#he wanted to take both rock band guitars too

[conshirtoe]

Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr

[hoshifighting]

rockstar!reader x church boy & bestfriend!joshua

— Synopsis: Joshua and you had this contrast, you too embedded in the electric guitars, the polemic rock band shirts, and Joshua deeply focused on taking care of the church activities. He has no idea of the after-parties of your concerts, but after so much insistence of him, you bring Joshua to meet your wildest side, the side you never let him meet before. — Genre: Best friends to Lovers — WC: 11.05k — WARNINGS: smut, fluff, slight angst, groupies showing tits references, alcohol, smoking and drug references, religious imagery—mention of a cross necklace, faith-based inner conflict. penetrative sex, rough sex, public make out, fingering, nipple play—reader have nipple piercings, face-slapping, mentions of boy fluids; cum/precum, cock riding, clit stimulation, dirty talk, post-sex care.

The neighborhood kids were a patchwork of personalities—there were the loud ones, the shy ones, the troublemakers, the saints. And then, there was you and Joshua. From the outside, it made no sense. You, the devil-may-care rebel with ripped jeans, always two seconds away from an argument with someone who couldn’t handle your attitude.

And Joshua, with his pristine shirts buttoned all the way up, soft-spoken voice, and the kind of calm that came from growing up in a house where every wall had a cross and every Sunday had a sermon. He was the kid who never missed a single morning of church, and you were the kid who never missed a single rehearsal with your rock band, banging out chords in your parents’ garage so loud the neighbors had to invest in better windows.

But here’s the thing: despite everything that set you apart, you were inseparable. You’d been friends since you were both knee-high, back when you didn’t even care about music or God or any of the other big things that defined you later. Joshua was the kid you trusted with everything. The one who’d patch up your scraped knees when you wiped out on your bike, even if you yelled at him for fussing too much. The one who never let you feel alone, even when the world felt like it was coming down around you.

You’d look at him sometimes—like now, when you two were sitting on the curb outside your house, him in one of those stiff, white shirts with the collar high enough to strangle someone, and you in your old, faded Black Sabbath tee—and wonder how the hell this worked.

“I don’t get why you always button that thing up like that,” you mutter, side-eyeing him as you light a cigarette.

Joshua looks over, raising a brow. “You sound like my mom,” he says, smirking. “Besides, it’s comfortable.”

���No way. You look like you’re ready to choke.”

“Yeah, well, you look like you’re ready to summon a demon or something in that shirt,” he fires back, glancing at the witch printed on the front of your tee. “You couldn’t find something uglier?”

You snort, blowing out a puff of smoke. “You’re just mad ‘cause you know Sabbath’s better than that crap you play.”

Joshua rolls his eyes. “Hey, I like Coldplay, alright? Not everything’s gotta be power chords and screaming.”

“I don’t scream,” you retort, half grinning.

“Yeah, you do.”

“Do not.”

“You screamed at the last gig.”

“That was—” You pause. “That was for effect.”

Joshua chuckles, shaking his head. “Sure. For ‘effect.’”

The thing is, Joshua could have roasted you to dust if he wanted to. But he never did. He’d always laugh it off, always find a way to turn the conversation into something lighter. And no matter how different you were, there was this unspoken respect between you. Like how he showed up to your gigs in high school wearing one of your band’s shirts, plastering flyers in the school hallways and sneaking some into the church bulletin board when no one was looking. 

And how you showed up at his baptism, cross necklace and all, standing there in the back, quiet but present. You never took the necklace off after that. The church boy who wouldn’t dare wear anything less than holy had given you a symbol of his faith, and you’d worn it ever since. You believed but weren't dedicated to it like Joshua, you used it because it was from him.

Joshua notices it now, the silver cross resting against your chest, slightly crooked. He reaches out, straightening it with a soft smile. “You still wear this?”

“Never took it off,” you admit, taking a long drag of your cigarette. “Doesn’t mean I’m converting, though.”

“I wasn’t gonna say anything,” he replies, leaning back on his palms. “I like that you wear it.”

You glance at him, a little surprised by the sincerity in his voice. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Joshua says, turning his gaze toward the sunset dipping below the houses. “It’s…nice, y’know? Like, no matter how far apart we get, we’re still connected.”

“Connected, huh?” you murmur, tapping the cigarette ash onto the ground. “You’re getting sappy again, dude.”

He laughs, nudging your shoulder with his. “Shut up. You like it.”

“Yeah, but your world’s so boring, Josh. All hymns and Jesus. You should come to the dark side more often.”

“Pass,” he says with a smirk, but there’s warmth behind it. “I’d rather keep watching you make it big as a rockstar. Somebody’s gotta pray for you when you’re out there corrupting the youth.”

Maybe that’s the thing about you and Joshua—no matter how much you rag on each other, how different your lives look on the surface, there’s a connection you can’t explain. You’re fire and he’s ice, but somehow, you keep each other balanced.

“Hey,” you say, suddenly serious, eyes fixed on the street ahead. “Thanks for, y’know…showing up. For all of it. I know I’m not the easiest person to be around.”

Joshua’s voice softens. “You don’t have to thank me. You’ve always been there for me too.”

You glance at him, your heart doing this weird flip in your chest. “Yeah, well, don’t get used to it,” you tease, though the words come out gentler than you intended.

Joshua grins, eyes crinkling at the corners. “Too late.”

You take another drag, the two of you falling into a comfortable silence, the kind only years of friendship can create. 

You weren’t trying to change him, and he wasn’t trying to save you.

The gossipy aunts on the block could speculate all they wanted—Joshua didn’t convert you, and no, you didn’t lead Joshua down some reckless path. You two were just… you. 

He’d brought you to church bazaars, where the smell of fried dough and barbecue sauce clung to your clothes long after you’d left, but he’d never pushed you to step foot into one of the more serious services. The ones where the hymns stretched on forever and people lost themselves in prayer. You didn’t do that, and he never asked you to.

And you? Well, you dragged Joshua to your gigs. He always stood at the front, close enough to feel the vibrations from the speakers, his clean-cut figure looking hilariously out of place in the sea of ripped jeans, leather jackets, and band tees.

But no matter how much he begged—and he did beg—you never brought him to the after-parties. The kind of chaos that erupted once the amps were off and the guitars were packed up. You’d drive him home, drop him off with a playful slap on the back, and head to the wildness he’d never see.

He didn’t need to know about the after-parties. He didn’t need to see you in your shortest leather mini skirt, the one that barely passed as clothing, as you downed beer after beer straight from the bottle, while the groupies flashed their tits at the band.

Joshua didn’t need to witness the wild shit that happened when everyone was too drunk or high to care about who was screwing who in the corner or the endless river of alcohol. That wasn’t his world, and you didn’t want him to see you like that. It was one thing for him to come to your shows, but seeing you let loose in a way that would make even your bandmates blush? No. He didn’t belong there.

Except… now Joshua was sitting with you in your garage, tuning your guitar like he always did before a big show, and he’d overheard you talking about the after-party.

“It’s the ten-year gig, huh?” he said casually, fingers sliding over the strings, adjusting them with that stupid focus he always had. “Big deal.”

“Yeah,” you replied, not thinking much of it. “It’s gonna be insane.”

Joshua’s head tilted, his lips pursing slightly. You recognized that look. It was the one he got when he was curious about something, when he was too polite to ask outright but dying to know more. He glanced at you. “You doing anything after? Like, after the gig?”

You paused. Shit. You hadn’t expected him to actually ask about that part. “Uh… yeah. There’s an after-party,” you said slowly, not looking at him. You fiddled with one of the tuning pegs on your bass, trying to look busy. “Same old stuff. You know.”

“I don’t know,” he said, and you could hear the smirk in his voice. “You’ve never let me go to one.”

You glanced up at him, already feeling your cheeks heat up. “That’s ‘cause it’s not your scene, Josh.”

“I want to see it,” he said, leaning forward a little. His voice was soft, but there was a determination there you weren’t used to. He wasn’t backing down from this one. “I’ve seen you perform. Why not let me see the rest?”

You let out a nervous laugh, shaking your head. “Trust me, you don’t wanna see the rest.”

Joshua raised an eyebrow, studying you. “Why not?”

Why not? Why not? How were you supposed to explain this without getting even more flustered? You could feel your palms sweating just thinking about it. The thought of Joshua witnessing that version of you—messy, no filter—made your stomach twist in a way that wasn’t entirely comfortable.

“It’s just… different, okay?” you muttered, rubbing the back of your neck. “Like, the crowd’s wilder. Things get… crazy. I’m not the same up there as I am here.”

Joshua narrowed his eyes, clearly not buying it. “I’ve known you since we were in diapers, and you think I can’t handle ‘crazy’?”

“You’re not getting it,” you insisted, your voice a little sharper than you meant it to be. “This isn’t just a few beers and hanging out. People get wild, Josh. There’s stuff that happens that you probably don’t want to see. Hell, I don’t want you to see it.”

He didn’t flinch, didn’t back down. “Maybe I do.”

You stared at him, dumbfounded. Was he serious right now? Joshua, the guy who got anxious if someone said a cuss word too loud around him, was asking to see the madness that was your after-party?

“Why the hell would you want to see that?” you finally asked, genuinely confused.

“Because,” he said simply, leaning forward on his knees, “I’ve always seen one side of you. The side you let me see. I wanna see the whole picture. I want to know who you are when you’re up there, when you’re with your band, when you’re… being yourself.”

You felt your heart thud hard against your chest. Shit. This wasn’t just about the party, was it? He wanted to understand you. All of you.

“I don’t know, man…” You trailed off, looking anywhere but at him. 

“I can handle it,” Joshua said, voice gentle. “I’m not a kid. I know what goes on. Just because I don’t live like that doesn’t mean I can’t handle seeing it.”

You bit your lip, hesitating. He was stubborn, and you knew he wouldn’t let this go easily.

“Alright,” you finally said, sighing. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Joshua smiled, wide and a little too innocent. “I’ll take my chances.”

[...]

The van sat parked in front of your house, baking in the morning sun, loaded with amps, guitars, and a drum kit that had seen better days. You were supervising the guys hauling the last of the equipment into the back, hair still wrapped in rollers, trying not to sweat through your shirt before you even made it to the venue.

And then, you saw him.

Joshua was walking up the driveway, and for a split second, you didn’t recognize him. The button-up shirt, the clean-cut image you were so used to—it was all gone. Instead, he was wearing one of your shirts, and not just any shirt. 

It was from your solo album outside the band, the one with the wild, scrawling letters across the chest and the cover art below. The cover art that featured your bust, as your tits were covered by an electric guitar. Skin covered in smeared kiss marks, lips of all colors pressed against your skin in a way that had been raunchy enough to make your bandmates whistle when you first showed them.

The album cover had been controversial, to say the least, but it sold like hotcakes. And Joshua—Joshua—was strutting around in it like it was no big deal.

You almost choked on your own spit.

He had black jeans on, hugging his legs in a way you didn’t expect, and he’d thrown on a couple of leather bracelets that looked suspiciously like the ones you’d worn on stage a few times. And the sunglasses perched on his head? Definitely not his usual vibe. He looked like someone who belonged backstage, maybe even on stage, and not at some church picnic. Worse—he looked like the kind of guy you could moan just from looking at.

Your brain short-circuited. You could already imagine the girls from your staff catching sight of him and drooling. Hell, you were almost drooling.

But then you caught sight of that shirt again, and all you could think was, out of all the merch I’ve got, why the fuck did he pick that one?

“Josh…” you called out, your voice full of disbelief as he approached. You gestured at the shirt. “Did… did your parents see you before you left?”

Joshua burst out laughing, shaking his head. “Are you kidding? No way. My mom would’ve had a heart attack. I snuck out before they were even awake.”

You groaned, clapping your forehead. “Oh my God. You realize you’re walking around with a picture of my tits on your chest, right?”

He grinned, glancing down at the shirt like it hadn’t even occurred to him. “Yeah, I noticed. It’s bold, right?”

“Bold?” you repeated, eyes wide. “It’s fucking obscene! You wearing that is obscene. Jesus, I can already hear the aunties in the neighborhood clutching their pearls.”

Joshua shrugged, completely unfazed. “Relax. No one from church is gonna be at the venue. I’m good.”

You gave him a hard look, still half in disbelief. “I’m not worried about church people, I’m worried about all the other people.”

He raised an eyebrow. “What, you don’t think I can pull it off?”

You blinked. Was he pulling it off? The more you stared at him, the more your brain started to fry. You didn’t know how to process this new Joshua—the one standing in front of you like he’d been born to wear that shirt. Born to make you lose your goddamn mind.

Joshua noticed your silence and raised an eyebrow. “What? You embarrassed?”

“I—no!” you shot back, though your cheeks were burning. “It’s just… fuck, you couldn’t pick a more normal one?”

“Where’s the fun in that?” he asked, flashing a grin that was a little too cocky for your liking.

“I can already see the crew girls drooling over you.”

Joshua shrugged, completely unfazed. “Let ‘em drool.”

You had to laugh at that.

“You know what? Never mind,” you muttered, waving him off. “Let’s just get to the venue before I lose it.”

Joshua chuckled and followed you to the van, casually tossing his sunglasses onto the dashboard as he climbed into the passenger seat. You took one last glance at him before slamming the door shut. He was leaning back, arms crossed, looking totally at ease in a way that was both infuriating and… kind of hot. Shit.

You could feel Joshua’s presence next to you, his knee brushing yours whenever you hit a bump. It was distracting as hell, but you did your best to focus on the road, on the gig, on anything that wasn’t Joshua in that damn shirt.

The ride was filled with the usual chaos—your drummer tapping out beats on the seat in front of him, your guitarist tweaking pedal settings on the floor, and the bass player scrolling through social media, barely paying attention. Joshua sat next to you, quiet, but you could tell he was absorbing everything. The energy, the vibe. This was the part of your life he’d never seen before.

When you finally pulled up to the venue, you felt the familiar buzz of expectation in your chest. The stage crew was already setting up, speakers being wired in, lights being tested. You hopped out of the van, gesturing to the others to get moving.

Joshua followed close behind, his eyes wide as he took in the scene. The venue was bigger than the high school stages he was used to seeing you on. It was packed with people running back and forth, instruments being tuned, sound checks echoing in the air.

“Damn,” he muttered under his breath, eyes scanning the stage. “This is...bigger than I expected.”

“Told ‘ya,” you said, grinning as you grabbed your bass and slung it over your shoulder. “Welcome to the real deal.”

Joshua nodded, clearly impressed. You could see the awe in his face, and a part of you felt proud that he was seeing this side of your world. The chaos, the noise, the energy. It was all part of the life you lived—the one he’d never been fully exposed to.

As the band started running through sound check, Joshua found a spot near the back, watching quietly, tapping his foot along with the beat. Every once in a while, you’d glance back at him, half-expecting to see him overwhelmed, but he wasn’t. He was nodding along, sunglasses now perched on his nose, looking like he fit right in.

You could hear the low murmur of the crowd outside, getting louder as more people settled into their seats. Joshua was still talking with Rob, your drummer, which gave you just enough time to pull the rollers out of your hair and finish your makeup in front of the cracked mirror in the dressing room. You rushed through it, swiping on your signature dark lipstick, when the door creaked open, and in walked Joshua.

Of course.

He stopped mid-stride, eyes darting around the room, then finally landing on you—and your outfit. You were wearing a black, lacy top that was just sheer enough to leave little to the imagination, especially when it came to the piercing you knew he had seen before. You’d never made a big deal out of it, but every time Joshua caught a glimpse, he’d get that uncomfortable look on his face, like he wasn’t supposed to be seeing something so private.

“Eyes, Joshua. Eyes,” you could almost hear him coaching himself. His gaze flickered up to your face, but it was too late—you’d caught the quick dip to your chest, to the black leather pants hugging your hips like a second skin.

“Uh, hey,” he muttered, scratching the back of his neck, clearly trying to act casual, but his voice came out rougher than usual. “I was, uh… just letting you know I should probably get to my seat. The crowd’s filling in.”

You smirked, finishing the last swipe of lipstick and tossing the tube onto the makeup table. “Don’t worry about it,” you said, standing up and adjusting the top slightly. “You’re not sitting in the crowd anyway.”

“What?” His brows furrowed in confusion, still trying hard to maintain eye contact, which was almost comical at this point.

“You coming up for the encore,” you explained, crossing your arms. “VIP section, side-stage. Didn’t I tell you?”

Joshua blinked. “No. You didn’t mention that.”

You grinned, seeing how flustered he was, and it only made you want to push him further. “Guess I forgot.” You winked, loving the way his mouth opened slightly, the words stuck in his throat. “Go get settled. We’ll call you up when it’s time.”

He mumbled something under his breath and awkwardly nodded, backing out of the room with a half-hearted wave. As soon as the door clicked shut, you let out a breath, grinning to yourself. Good luck keeping your eyes up there, church boy.

[...]

By the time you hit the stage, the crowd was electric. You could feel the vibration in your bones, the pulse of the drums and bass weaving through your body. The lights were blinding, sweat already starting to drip down your back within the first few songs. You scanned the crowd, catching sight of Joshua standing where you told him, off to the side, eyes glued to you like he’d never seen you before.

Maybe he hadn’t.

You weren’t just some girl with a guitar tonight. You were in it, the music flowing through your veins, your hands sliding over the neck of the guitar like they were made for it. The band was tight, every note hitting harder than the last, and you felt alive in a way you couldn’t describe. The crowd roared, hands reaching out as your bandmates, already stripped of their shirts, threw them into the audience like trophies.

Joshua’s eyes were wide, watching the sweat drip down your arms as your muscles flexed with every chord change. You were lost in it, mouth slightly open during one of your solos, head thrown back as you pulled the guitar into your body like it was an extension of you. You could feel his gaze, heavy and unblinking, and it only pushed you harder. You let your voice growl into the mic, letting out the kind of raw, strong energy that got you here in the first place.

His mind must’ve been racing. He’d seen you play before, but never like this. Never with this much heat, this much intensity. You weren’t just a rockstar tonight—you were a sex symbol, and every single person in that venue, including Joshua, could feel it.

It hit him then—this was why you didn’t want him to come to the after-parties. It wasn’t just about the chaos or the booze. It was because, in this space, on stage, with the lights and the music and the crowd screaming your name—you were untouchable. And so, so fucking hot.

He’d always known you were beautiful, but this? This was something else. Watching your body move in rhythm with the music, the way your fingers slid across the strings, the sweat glistening on your skin—fuck. Joshua couldn’t take his eyes off you. Every part of you was dripping with confidence, sexuality.

The crowd erupted as you launched into the final solo, the room swelling with the sound of your guitar. Joshua’s gaze lingered on your body, on the way your leather pants clung to every curve, on the sway of your hips as you moved, and on your lips, slightly parted as you leaned into the mic. He swallowed hard, heat rushing to his face as he watched your muscles tense and release, every move planned, every note flawless.

His thoughts ran wild, and as you finished the set, throwing your head back in a final roar of victory, he couldn’t help but think, So this is what she didn’t want me to see.

The show ended in a blur of cheers and flashing lights, the energy still pulsing in your veins as you stumbled off stage, half-drunk on adrenaline. When you spotted Joshua at the back of the room, standing there with that wide-eyed look of disbelief, you couldn't help but laugh.

You walked over to him, sweat still glistening on your skin, a tired but satisfied grin on your face. “Well?” you asked, chest heaving. “What’d you think?”

Joshua blinked, forcing his gaze up from the floor to meet yours. He swallowed thickly, that guilty knot tightening in his throat. “It was… amazing,” he admitted, his voice a little hoarse. “You were—fuck, you’re incredible up there.”

His compliment was genuine, but there was something else in his eyes. Something conflicted, like he wasn’t sure how to feel about what he’d just seen. His best friend—the girl he’d known since forever—looked like this. Played like that. He felt sick about it. Sick because his heart was pounding for all the wrong reasons. Sick because seeing you like that—half-wild, sweaty, powerful—it wasn’t just admiration anymore.

You grinned, wiping your forehead with the back of your hand. “Told you it was a rush.”

Before he could respond, the two of you heard the unmistakable sound of feet pounding the floor. Fans. A whole wave of them was running toward the back, hoping to catch a glimpse of the band before they left. You didn’t even think, just grabbed Joshua’s hand and yanked him with you, sprinting toward the van parked outside.

You were laughing as you ran, your grip tight around his wrist, and Joshua couldn’t help the way his heart raced—whether from running or from being so close to you, he didn’t know. He could hear you breathing hard, could see the wildness in your eyes. And for the first time, he got it. The thrill. The chaos. The rush that came with living your life like this.

By the time you both reached the van and slammed the door behind you, you collapsed onto the seat, letting out a long, relieved moan. Joshua just stood there for a moment, chest heaving, eyes wide. He felt it now—the thrill, the electric hum in his blood. But also something else, something that made his stomach twist.

When you caught his eye and smiled that lazy, satisfied smile, he felt like he was losing his grip. You looked like a sexy mess, hair tousled, lipstick smeared, eyes sparkling. He could still feel the warmth of your hand in his, and it was doing things to him—dangerous things.

“The after-party’s at a club,” you said, glancing at him as the van roared to life. “Private for tonight. Just the band and our friends.”

Joshua nodded, his mouth dry. He had no idea what to expect.

[...]

The club was another world entirely.

The moment you stepped inside, Joshua was hit with the smell of sweat, alcohol, and something that might’ve been smoke, but wasn’t just cigarettes. The bass was pounding, vibrating through the floor, and there were bodies everywhere.

The first thing he noticed was your bandmates already surrounded by a small crowd of girls—half-naked, some practically sitting in their laps. One of them was making out with the guitarist, her hand slipping under his shirt while the others just laughed, already drunk and messy.

Joshua’s throat tightened, his eyes wide as he took it all in. It was chaos. Absolute chaos. People were drinking, smoking, making out in dark corners, hands wandering under clothes with zero shame.

And then there was you.

You didn’t miss a beat, grabbing a drink from the bar and downing it like it was water. When you turned to face him, leaning back against the bar with your leather pants clinging to your body and your shirt barely covering anything, you were a vision. A sexy, disheveled vision, your hair a mess, lips wet from the drink, and eyes hazy from the adrenaline of the show.

You were the kind of person that people wrote songs about—the kind of person that people lost themselves over.

“You good?” you asked, voice low, almost drowned out by the music.

Joshua blinked, swallowing hard. “Yeah… yeah, I’m good.” But he wasn’t. He could barely keep his head straight with everything going on around him.

You grinned, holding out your drink. “Here. This’ll help.”

He hesitated for a second, but then grabbed the glass, taking a long gulp. The burn of alcohol felt good, grounding him for a moment. But it wasn’t enough to block out the heat in his chest, the strange attraction, the strange guilt swirling inside him.

You chuckled, watching him down half the drink. “Easy there.”

Joshua wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, exhaling hard. He shook his head, swallowing again, trying to focus. But then you were close—too close—and he could smell the combination of your perfume and sweat, and suddenly it was all he could think about. You were so casual about it, so relaxed in this wild mess, like you were born for it.

Joshua stared at you, watching the way your body moved with the music, the way your hips swayed slightly, your hair falling in your face. And he couldn’t help it—he wanted you. Wanted to pull you close, to taste the sweat on your skin, to feel the heat of you pressed against him.

But he couldn’t. You were his best friend. You’d been through everything together. But right now, in this moment, you weren’t just his friend. You were a fucking rockstar. And that terrified him as much as it thrilled him.

Joshua took another long drink, trying to drown the feelings that were bubbling up inside him. You watched him, a slow, knowing smile creeping onto your lips as you leaned in closer, eyes gleaming in the dim light.

“You feelin’ it now, aren’t you?” you whispered, voice just loud enough for him to hear.

He nodded, not trusting himself to speak. Because yeah, he was feeling it. The rush, the heat, the want. And it was all because of you.

Someone in the crowd—a guy with a half-buttoned shirt and lazy grin—held out a blunt to Joshua, smirking. “Want a hit, man?”

Joshua froze. His mind blanked for a second. “Nah, he doesn’t smoke. Leave him alone.” The air suddenly felt too heavy, the idea of it too real. Before he could even answer, you were at his side, grabbing the guy’s hand and pushing it back with a casual laugh. “He’s too saintly for that.”

Joshua froze, the word saintly cutting through the noise. You were teasing, of course, but that single word twisted in his gut. He didn’t need you looking at him like that—like he was too pure, too clean for this world you thrived in. He hated it. Hated that you saw him like some untouched, pristine version of himself that didn’t even exist. That look you gave him, all amused and lighthearted, made his skin crawl because it only reminded him of how distant he felt from you in that moment.

You grinned at him, eyes gleaming. “Come on, Josh. You’re way too neat for this shit. Leave the bad habits to me.”

He clenched his jaw, hands in his pockets, trying to keep his cool. The thing was—you had no idea. You saw him as the same old Joshua, the one you grew up with, the guy who kept his hands clean while you dived headfirst into the chaos. But fuck, that wasn’t him. Not really. Not anymore. You thought he was some perfect church boy who’d never done anything wild, who probably still had his V-card, for God’s sake.

If only you knew.

The way you laughed about it, as if the thought of him doing anything wild—anything sinful—was so absurd it was hilarious. And that burned. More than it should’ve.

Joshua swallowed, trying to keep his cool, but your words dug in deep. Saintly. Neat. Like you didn’t know. Like you couldn’t even imagine him doing anything like that. He wasn’t a fucking saint. He wasn’t clean like you thought. He’d done things—felt things—that would wipe that smirk off your face. But you… you never saw him that way. Not Joshua.

 “You’re lucky, y’know? Not everyone can pull off that whole saintly thing,” you teased, brushing a hand through your messy hair.

He clenched his jaw. “I’m not a fucking saint,” he muttered under his breath. But you didn’t hear him—or maybe you didn’t care.

Joshua felt his pulse quicken, the alcohol buzzing in his system, loosening up the tension in his limbs but doing nothing to calm his mind. He hated how you looked at him. Like he was too clean, too good for this world you lived in. He hated how you never saw him as anything more than “good ol’ Joshua.” The guy who had never gone off the rails, the guy who probably never even had his dick wet before.

That’s what you thought, wasn’t it?

And fuck, he couldn’t stand it. The truth gnawed at him, because you had no idea who he was outside of your little bubble. You didn’t know about the times he’d stayed up too late, desperate to cum, the fantasies he’d let himself get lost in—half of them about you, goddammit. You didn’t know about the nights he’d spent grinding against someone, hands buried in their hair, feeling the warmth of their body pressed against his, the messy nights where he lost himself entirely.

You looked at him, one eyebrow raised. “Oh yeah? Prove it.”

His breath caught. You were joking—you had to be—but something in the way you said it, so casual, so sure that he wouldn’t… it broke something in him. The club around him blurred as he focused on you, standing there all relaxed, your lips still slightly parted, that familiar teasing glint in your eyes.

He couldn’t stop himself. “You really think I’m that fucking innocent, huh?” His voice was sharper than he intended, the words cutting through the thrum of the music.

You blinked, pulling back slightly, surprised by the edge in his tone. “What? No, I just—”

“You think I’ve never been with anyone? Never had my fuckin’ cock wet before?” He didn’t care how crude it sounded. Didn’t care that it was probably the first time you’d ever heard him talk like that. He was sick of it. Sick of the version of himself you’d created in your mind.

You feel the heat rise in your chest, a compound of anger and something else you don’t even want to admit. The way he said it—rough, out of character—like he was someone else entirely. Part of you wants to slap him for it, for breaking the image of the Joshua you knew. The good one. The clean-cut guy who’d never even raise his voice, let alone tell you he wasn’t so fucking innocent. But the other part of you… it liked it. The tension, the bite in his words, the way he stood there, all riled up.

You narrow your eyes, smirking just a little.

His jaw clenches. His nostrils flare. For the first time, you see his eyes darken—none of that usual light. No soft Joshua anymore. His face shifts into something harder, almost dangerous. It catches you off guard, and suddenly you’re not sure if you’re playing a game you can win.

“Don’t push it,” he warns. It sends a cold lick from the beginning of your spine to the end, but you tilt your head, still smirking, testing him.

“What? Gonna do something about it?” You lean in closer, just inches from his face now, daring him. “C’mon, Joshua. Show me.”

And then it happens.

He’s on you so fast, you don’t even have time to process it. His hands grab your waist, fingers digging into your hips, pulling you flush against him, and you feel it—the hard line of his cock pressing into your belly. Your breath catches in your throat, but you don’t pull away. Instead, you lean in, testing the waters, your body instinctively reacting to the sudden heat between you two.

His mouth crashes onto yours, rough, almost desperate, all that pent-up tension is spilling out at once. His lips are soft but demanding, like they’re asking for something, but also taking it without permission. You kiss him back just as fiercely, a messy clash of teeth and tongues, the taste of alcohol on both your breaths mixing as you struggle for control.

His hands slide down your back, grabbing your ass with a roughness that makes you gasp, and he pulls you tighter against him, grinding into you just enough to let you know exactly how turned on he is. “Fuck,” he mutters into your mouth, barely pulling away to speak. You can feel the frustration, the years of him being the good one, bubbling up in every kiss, every touch.

You’re not sure if it’s the alcohol, but you grab onto his shoulders, pulling him even closer, your nails digging into his skin through his shirt. It’s messy, frantic, and the sound of it—the heavy breathing, the low growls coming from him, the way your lips smack together—fills the small space between you like the only thing that matters is how fast and hard you can make this happen.

And god, it’s wrong. So fucking wrong. You can feel it in the back of your mind, the thought lingering, telling you this isn’t who Joshua is. Not the guy you grew up with. But right now, he doesn’t feel like the Joshua you knew. He feels like someone who’s been hiding this side of himself for too long, someone who’s finally letting the mask slip.

And the worst part? You like it. Maybe too much.

He pulls back just enough to look at you, and his eyes—fuck, his eyes are almost black with craving, his chest heaving as he stares at you like you’re the only thing in the world that matters. You can see it on his face—how much he wants this, how much he needs to prove to you that he’s not as clean as you think he is.

“You sure you wanna keep pushing?” His voice is raspy, breathless, and his grip on your hips tightens. “’Cause I don’t think you can handle what happens if you do.”

Your breath hitches, but you don’t back down. “Try me,” you whisper, barely able to keep your voice steady.

And just like that, he’s on you again. This time, rougher. His mouth moves down to your neck, teeth scraping against your skin as he kisses you there, biting just hard enough to make you gasp. Your hands tangle in his hair, pulling him closer, and you feel the hard press of his cock grinding into your stomach as his hands roam over your body, touching, grabbing, pulling. He’s all over you.

You’re backed into the wall of the van now, his body trapping you there, and for a second, you think about the others. Your bandmates. The people who know Joshua—the real Joshua. You can almost feel their judgment, the silent “what the fuck” looks they’d give you if they saw this. If they saw how you’re fucking with his head, breaking him down until he’s someone else entirely.

But right now, none of that matters. Not when he’s kissing you like this, touching you like this. Not when his hand slips under your shirt, fingers grazing over your bare skin, making you shiver. Not when he’s showing you this side of himself that you never even thought existed.

And fuck, you realize. You’ve been wrong about Joshua. So, so wrong.

And he’s not done showing you just how wrong you’ve been.

Joshua’s hands slide under your top, squeezing your waist, his thumbs teasing your skin, brushing against the underside of your boobs until they find your nipples, flicking at the piercings. The sensation makes you gasp, your body betraying you as you fold under his touch. You clutch his arm, your breath heavy against his neck, before you moan right into his ear. You feel him twitch, nearly stumbling in front of you, his control unraveling.

Your fingers tangle in his hair, yanking it back to force his eyes on you. His bottom lip catches between his teeth, and you can see the hunger there, the intensity, the rawness of it. “We need to stop,” you breathe, trying to sound firm, but even to your own ears, it’s weak.

Joshua’s mouth presses back against your neck, and he mutters between kisses, each one punctuating his words. “No. You don’t. Want. To. Stop. Do. You?” His breath is hot against your skin, each word hitting you harder than the last, unraveling your willpower.

“I’m serious,” you insist, but it’s pathetic, because the way he’s touching you—like he’s memorizing every inch of your body, like he’s known this moment was coming—makes it impossible to think straight.

He pulls back for a moment, eyes searching yours, checking if you really want to stop. His expression softens, as if he’s giving you an out. 

“We need to stop, or we’re gonna end up fucking right here in front of everyone.”

For a second, you both pause, glancing around. The crowd is still buzzing, everyone too lost in their own world to notice what’s happening between the two of you. You could, technically. You could fuck right here, and no one would bat an eye, but that last shred of morality keeps you in check, pulling you back from the edge. Barely.

Joshua was imagining just how much worse things could get. But honestly, he liked every single one of these thoughts. 

He grabs your hand, pulling you toward the club’s parking lot, and rushing toward the van.

The heavy door of the van slides shut behind you, and Joshua locks it with a rough click, sealing the two of you inside. The second the door’s closed, it’s like the floodgates open. His hands are everywhere—grabbing, pulling, needy. He kisses you harder now, more frantic, his body pushing you against the side of the van, and your back hits the first seat with a thud.

You stumble, the both of you crashing into a pile of boxed-up instruments. Your knee hits a guitar case, his ass bump on the drum box, but neither of you care. Joshua’s hand slides down to your ass, squeezing hard as he pulls you into him, making sure you feel every inch of him pressed against your thigh. You’re practically panting, the need between you both building, burning.

You push him back toward the last row of seats, hands fumbling at his belt as you go, your teeth grazing his jaw, his neck, tasting the sweat and the heat from the show earlier.

He moans down in his throat, a sound that rumbles through his chest and straight into yours, and you swear it’s the hottest fucking thing you’ve ever heard. His fingers dig into your hips as he backs into the seat, pulling you down on top of him, your legs straddling his lap, the hard press of his cock straining against his jeans beneath you.

“Fuck,” you gasp, grinding against him, and his head falls back against the seat, eyes rolling shut for a second as you move. You take advantage of it, your lips finding his neck, your teeth scraping his skin just enough to make him hiss.

The leather of your pants is sticking to your skin, but you barely register it as Joshua leans down, kissing you again, his hands slipping under your top and pulling it up, exposing you. His mouth moves lower, trailing down your neck, across your collarbone, and then lower, until his lips are at your chest. He doesn’t hesitate—his mouth finds your nipple, and he flicks his tongue over the piercing, making you arch your back, a strangled moan escaping your lips.

The leather pants cling to you, slick with sweat, and you can feel every inch of them suffocating your skin. You groan in frustration, hands fumbling to yank them off. In your hurry, you knock your elbow hard against a nearby box, hissing in pain. Joshua’s hands are on you immediately, steadying you as you finally peel the damn pants down, tossing them aside like they personally offended you. He takes the opportunity to shove his own pants down to his knees, and as you glance up, he's yanking his shirt over his head.

You’re back on his lap before he even realizes what’s happening, grinding down on him through the thin fabric of your underwear and his boxers. It’s a hell of a lot better than the rough leather, and you feel the instant response—his hands grip your thighs so hard it’s like he’s holding on for dear life, his head falling back with this breathless, whiny moan.

His fingers slide down the front of your panties, finding you soaked, and he’s instantly wrecked. “Fuck, you’re dripping,” he growls, his voice ragged, eyes dark and hungry as they lock onto yours. “You’re so fucking wet for me.”

The dirty words coming from him feel so wrong, so foreign, but god, it’s making your head spin, red flags of danger flickering in your mind, and you can’t stop.

“No shit, Sherlock,” you mumble, still grinding against his hand, but then he pushes a finger inside you, and your whole body jolts. A hand flies up, palm slamming against the fogged window for balance, leaving a print there as you rock forward, riding his thick, calloused finger.

His finger feels huge, and the stretch of it makes you dizzy. You’re thankful for the seat behind you, giving you the support you need because you’re practically sprawled back on it, grinding on his hand like your life depends on it. 

He’s watching you, eyes locked on every twitch of your face, every moan spilling from your lips, and then he slides another finger in. The stretch makes you gasp, thighs trembling as he moves them inside you, fingers curling and hitting that spot that makes your vision go blurry.

“Talk dirty to me,” he suddenly demands, voice low and gruff. 

“You… don’t like it when I curse,” you manage, barely coherent as his fingers keep moving inside you.

“Fuck that,” he growls, fingers curling deeper, making you whimper. “Call me whatever the fuck you want. Call me a motherfucker, I don’t care. Just talk to me, let me hear it.”

Your body’s trembling, eyes rolling back as you grind harder against his hand, desperate for more.

You moan, feeling his fingers pumping inside you as his thumb brushes your clit. You’re teetering on the edge, and words are spilling out before you can stop them. “God, Joshua… Always acting so pure. I bet no one would believe how fucking hard you are for me right now, huh?”

His breath stutters at your words, his fingers thrusting harder inside you. “Keep going.”

“Is this what you’ve wanted?” you gasp, rocking your hips against him, feeling that coil tightening in your belly. “You want me to ride your fingers like a fucking slut, huh?”

He groans, low and deep. "Fuck, yes”

Your body’s trembling, every thrust of his fingers pushing you closer to the brink. “You’re such a motherfucker,” you whisper against his lips, your voice breaking. "You feel that? Feel how close I am? You're gonna make me—shit!—cum all over your fingers.”

Your head falls back against the seat, eyes fluttering closed as his rough, calloused fingers curl inside you, hitting that spot that makes your entire body tense. You're whimpering, struggling to keep the dirty talk going, but it's hard to form words when every nerve in your body is on fire. "God, Joshua, your fingers... they’re so fucking big," you manage to choke out, voice shaky.

He smirks, eyes dark, watching the way your body responds to him. “If you think my fingers are big,” he breathes, thrusting them deeper, faster, “imagine how you’re gonna feel when it’s my cock inside you.”

The thought sends another wave of heat pooling between your legs, and you grip his forearm, nails digging into his skin as he moves his fingers faster, relentless, pressing into your sweet spot over and over. Your walls clamp down around him, and a broken cry escapes your lips, your body trembling as the tension snaps, pleasure ripping through you in a rush.

"Fuck—Joshua!" you moan, your voice high and desperate as your orgasm hits you hard, your pussy squeezing his fingers so tight you can barely think. Your slick coats his hand, and he watches you fall apart, eyes locked on the way your body writhes against his, chest heaving, face twisted in pleasure.

He doesn’t stop, doesn’t even slow down, and you can feel him watching you, his expression mirroring your own without even meaning to. His lips part in a quiet curse, like he’s just as lost in it as you are, completely captivated by the way you cum on his fingers, riding the digits until you curl up on him.

His fingers slip out of you, slick and shiny, leaving you empty. Your breath catches in your throat when his hand dips down to his own cock, still hard and straining under the thin fabric of his boxers. He grunts softly, shifting, and you catch a glimpse of the outline of it through the fabric—big, thick. Your mouth goes dry at the sight.

He’s moving fast, lips already on you again, his mouth latching onto your nipple. You gasp as his teeth graze the sensitive bud, his tongue swirling over the metal of your piercing like he’s obsessed—after all, besides seeing it through your blouses, now he has them in his mouth. His grip tightens around your waist, pulling you closer, almost like he’s trying to devour you.

“Fuck, Joshua,” you rasp out, voice shaky, still buzzing from the orgasm he pulled from you with just his fingers. “Where the hell did you learn how to do that?”

He pauses for a second, teeth scraping your skin as his mouth moves up to nip at your collarbone, smirking. “What, you think just 'cause I look all neat and clean, I don’t know how to make a girl cum?” he leaves a wet hickey on your chest. “Trust me, babe, I know exactly what I’m doing.”

You arch into him, head tilting back as his tongue flicks against your other nipple, but this time, he looks inside your eyes. “Could’ve fooled me… always acting like a saint.”

His hand tightens on your thigh, sliding up between your legs again, brushing against your soaked panties. He smirks against your skin. “You’re the one who’s been driving me fucking crazy. Always teasing me. You know how hard it’s been to keep my hands off you?”

You’re about to reply, but his fingers are pulling at the waistband of your panties, dragging them to the side. The next thing you know, he’s pushing his boxers down, freeing his cock. Your eyes widen slightly at the sight of it—he’s big, thicker than you expected, the tip already slick with precum. And for a moment, you can’t help but wonder how many girls have seen this side of him, but then he’s guiding you back onto his lap, hands firm on your hips, lining himself up with your entrance.

“Shit,” you whisper, feeling the thick head of his cock brushing against your folds. The feel makes you hold your breath, the heat from his body and the sheer wrongness of it making your pulse race.

His eyes flick up to meet yours, and for a brief second, there’s conflict there—like he’s torn between the best friend who used to crash on your couch, and the guy who's about to fuck you. He’s barely holding himself together.

He guides himself inside you slowly, inch by inch, and you can feel every stretch, every pulse of his cock as it fills you up. You gasp, fingers digging into his shoulders as you sink down onto him, his size making your head spin. "Jesus, Joshua..." you groan, head falling forward, overwhelmed by how full you feel.

His cock feels impossibly big, filling you up completely, and for a moment, you wonder how the hell you’re even taking him.

His hands tremble slightly on your waist as he pushes the rest of the way in, a throaty moan slipping from his lips. “Fuck, this is so wrong,” he mutters, voice shaky, eyes squeezing shut. “You’re my fucking best friend, I shouldn’t be doing this—” His voice breaks off into another moan as you start to move, your hips rolling against him.

You watch him, grinning at the conflict flickering in his eyes, the way his face contorts with each movement of your hips. His best friend—the girl he’s never even crossed boundaries with—now stretched out, tight around his cock. It's almost too much for him, his mind clearly buzzing with how wrong it is, but his body craves more, needing the way you feel wrapped around him.

His moans meld with yours, louder now, whiny. "You're making me fucking lose my mind."

You lean in close, lips brushing his ear as you whisper, “Then lose it. Let me fuck you like no one else ever has.”

He growls low in his throat, his control slipping completely. He thrusts up into you, harder, deeper, and you moan, head falling back as your body rocks against his. His hands slide down to your ass, squeezing roughly as he pulls you down onto him again and again, his cock hitting deeper with each thrust.

You press both hands to his chest, halting his frantic thrusts, pinning him back against the seat. “Whoa, slow down,” you say, eyes locked on his as you adjust yourself, shifting until you find the angle that makes you gasp. His cock twitches inside you, and you bite back a smirk. You know you’ve got him right where you want him now.

You flick your hair to one side, leaning back a bit, and start riding him slow, dragging it out, making sure he feels every inch. His mouth opens to say something, but you change the motion, circling your hips instead, and whatever he was going to say dies in his throat. You scoff, half laughing, half moaning. “What? Why so quiet now?”

His hands fly to the armrests, knuckles turning white as he grips the leather for dear life. You know exactly what he’s doing—trying to stop himself from grabbing you too rough, like you can’t handle it. Like you don’t want him to. But you take one of his hands and place it on the side of your face, his palm practically engulfing your head. You lean into his touch, biting your lip before saying it. “Slap me.”

His eyes go wide. “What?”

“Come on,” you grind down on him again, slower, teasing. “You’ve never slapped anyone before? Right on my face. Do it.”

He looks torn, breath hitching as you ride him harder. You can tell he’s struggling to even think straight, his stomach clenching, his abs flexing under your hands as the pleasure hits him hard. But it’s your pace that’s driving him insane, the way you bounce on his cock, taking him deep, then slowing down just enough to drag it out. He’s barely hanging on.

His voice is rough when he finally speaks, “Fuck… I don’t—” He gasps when you clench around him on purpose, his hips flinching up into you, reflexive. His hand tightens on your jaw before he lets go, shaking his head. “I don’t think I can—”

“Shut up,” you whisper, eyes burning with challenge. “Slap me.” The way you’re looking at him, daring him, makes his heart pound in his chest. He hesitates for half a second, but when you grind down on him again, harder, his control snaps.

He slaps you, hard. Harder than he intended.

The sound of it rings out, followed by his shocked gasp. But you’re already moaning, your pussy clenching so tight around him that he almost loses it. He watches in disbelief as you react, the slap turning you on even more, your walls fluttering around his cock, soaking him.

“Holy shit,” he breathes, staring at you, wide-eyed, as you keep riding him like nothing just happened—no, like it made everything better.

Your body jerks with each bounce, the slap leaving a burning sting on your cheek, but all it does is fuel the fire between your legs. “See?” you taunt. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

He groans, the sound low and desperate. “Fuck… you’re fucking insane.” His hands find your waist again, but this time he doesn’t try to hold back. He grips you tight, fingers digging into your skin as you grind against him, circling your hips just to watch his head fall back, lips parted, eyes squeezed shut.

Every time you clench down on him on purpose, his whole body flinches, like he’s trying so hard not to lose control. “Jesus Christ, you’re so fucking tight,” he growls, voice ragged. “I can feel… fuck, I can feel you squeezing me like you want me to fucking break.”

You bite your lip, eyes half-lidded as you meet his gaze. “Maybe I do.”

Joshua's thumb strokes the still-hot skin of your cheek where he slapped you. You bounce hard on his cock, the slap only making the tension between you snap tighter. His thumb lingers, gently caressing the mark like he’s making up for what he did, but you grin, biting your lip through the pleasure and ask for more;

“Slap me again.”

It’s the same voice you used when you asked him to push you harder on a swing—excited, impatient, full of that rush of adrenaline. He sucks in a breath, brows furrowed like he’s torn, but the way your pussy tightens around him makes his decision for him. His hand raises again, and this time, it lands with purpose.

Your face turns to the side from the force, cheek burning red-hot, and fuck, it burns even better than the last one. 

Your pussy tightens around him instantly, and Joshua groans. He can feel the way your body responds, how you pulse around him every time he does it. You moan, “Fuck… I think I’m gonna cum again.” The whine at the end of your sentence makes his cock twitch, and it sparks something animalistic in him.

Joshua grabs your hips, lifting you just enough to pin you down on his lap, grinding his pelvis into you so deep that your vision goes hazy for a second. You roll your eyes, barely hanging on. Before you can catch your breath, he’s flipping you onto the seat, his cock never leaving you as he lays you down, spreading your legs up and grabbing the backs of your knees.

The new angle has you arching your back immediately, hands scrambling for purchase on the seat. He starts thrusting, and it’s so hard and deep you swear your body is melting into the seat. Each snap of his hips sends a sharp lock of bliss through you, his pelvis slamming into yours, and you know anyone outside can hear the van rocking, but you don’t fucking care.

You don’t care about anything except him, the way his thumb circles your clit just as he slips it down, thumb circling the base of his cock, spreading your slickness over the throbbing nerve. Your body jerks, an involuntary sob escaping your throat.

Joshua’s never seen you like this—ruined, makeup streaking down your face, thick tears rolling down your cheeks. His grin is huge, his breath ragged as he stares down at you, fucking relentless in his pace. “Aw, look at you. You’re crying on my cock,” he coos, his voice laced with sweet mockery. He presses harder on your clit, making you squirm, and he chuckles low, shaking his head. “Such a good girl, crying for me like that. You can’t even handle it, can you?”

You let out a strangled gasp, your body writhing under him as you feel the heat pooling low in your stomach, everything inside you winding so tight. “Fuck,” you choke out, “Josh, I’m gonna—”

“I know, baby,” he growls, leaning down, his mouth right by your ear now. “You’re gonna cum all over my cock, gonna make a mess of me?”

You’re too far gone to answer, your head tipped back as your body reaches its breaking point. His thumb circles your clit faster, his cock hitting that spot inside you over and over, and your whole body shakes uncontrollably. You feel the coil snap inside you so hard that you almost black out, your pussy clenching around him like a vice as you cum, the orgasm ripping through you with inhuman intensity. 

You scream his name, tears streaming down your face as you sob through it, your body trembling violently as your release floods out of you, soaking his cock and thighs.

Joshua watches, mesmerized by how fucking ruined you are beneath him, and he leans down, whispering against your lips, “That’s right. Cry for me more, baby. Show me how good it feels. Look at you… soaking me like that, dripping all over me.”

Joshua's hips stutter, and you feel the unmistakable swell of his cock inside you, growing thicker, pulsing as he teeters on the edge. He pulls out suddenly, leaving you breathless as he grips his cock, jerking it against your slick stomach. His hand is tight, desperate, moving fast as his chest rises and falls in ragged breaths.

His moans are a mess—whiny, high-pitched, slipping from his throat like he can’t control them. He bites his bottom lip hard, but the sly little whimpers escape him anyway, each sound more desperate than the last. His abs tense, his whole body trembling above you, muscles tight as a cord about to snap. His eyes flutter shut, head falling back slightly as he loses himself in the feeling.

“Fuck—” he gasps, his voice breaking as his orgasm hits him like a freight train. His grip falters for a split second, and then his cock jerks hard in his hand, spilling hot ropes of cum. It spurts in thick, messy streams, splattering across your belly, sliding up toward your chest, even reaching your chin. His knees buckle slightly, and he has to grab the back of the seat in front of him to keep from collapsing, his whole body shuddering through the force of it.

He’s panting, still jerking himself through the aftershocks, and his cum keeps dripping from the tip, mixing with the sweat that’s already covering both of you. Your legs tremble uncontrollably, falling to the side as your body finally gives out, utterly spent. The van feels suffocating, the air thick and humid, making it hard to breathe as the windows fog up completely now.

Joshua’s hand is still braced on the seat for support, knuckles white, his chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath. His eyes flicker open, and when he looks down at you—covered in him, eyes heavy, body limp—you can see the disbelief, the satisfaction, and maybe even a little guilt.

But neither of you moves, too wrecked to do anything but exist in the humid silence of the van, your breaths slowly returning to something like normal.

Joshua settles into the seat next to you, staring down at you like he’s trying to make sense of everything. You both stay silent, like the weight of what just happened hasn’t fully hit yet. Neither of you moves; it's as if you need this stillness to process, to figure out what the fuck this was and where it might lead. Was it the alcohol? The adrenaline? Or maybe the tension between you two, the one you both never admitted but always felt.

He suddenly stands up, his voice breaking the silence. “Where’s your necessaire?” You barely register the question, too lost in thought, so you just point lazily toward the front of the van, your limbs too tired to follow his movements.

You hear the zipper open, the soft rustle of him digging through your things. Your legs ache from the awkward position they’re in, but before you can shift, Joshua is back beside you. Without a word, he gently lifts your legs, folding them in a more comfortable position, almost cradling you. You catch his eyes as he pulls out makeup remover wipes.

He starts with your face, wiping away the tear-streaked makeup, his touch as soft as it’s ever been. “Close your eyes,” he murmurs, brushing your cheek tenderly—the same cheek he slapped earlier, his movements extra gentle now, like he’s trying to undo any mark he left.

You close your eyes, feeling his hands glide across your skin. “You’re lucky I know how to clean this up,” he teases lightly, the sound of his voice strangely comforting. “You always were a mess after shows.”

You hum, half-laughing. “You should see me after the after-parties.” The humor doesn’t land quite like it usually does; there’s something too real now, something too intimate that makes the joke feel heavy.

He uses a fresh wipe to clean the cum from your body, starting at your chin and working his way down your belly. His touch lingers, but it’s not lustful—more like he’s making sure every part of you is taken care of, like you’re something precious. “Lift your arm for me,” he says softly, and you comply, feeling the coolness of the wipe brush under your arm and along your ribs.

When he finishes, his hand slips to your necklace, the little cross with the rhinestones—one you wear mostly because of him. His fingers fiddle with it for a second, the small gesture almost grounding, like it’s pulling him back to reality. 

“You good?” he asks finally, eyes scanning your face, like he’s not sure if he went too far, if maybe you’re more hurt than you’re letting on.

“Yeah,” you breathe, and even though you’re wrecked, there’s something warm in your chest. “I’m good.”

His thumb brushes your cheek, his touch featherlight. “You sure? You need anything else?”

You smirk a little, exhausted but still yourself. “Yeah, I need a nap.”

Joshua chuckles under his breath, still holding your necklace. “Alright, you take that nap. I’ll watch over you.” There’s something sweet in his tone, a promise hidden in the words, something you know he means more than he’s letting on.

And as you start to drift, you can’t help but think that despite everything—despite the wild shit that just happened—Joshua is still Joshua. Sweet, caring, a little too good for this world, and somehow, still your person.

[...]

The nap you took wasn’t just any nap—it was wild, like the kind where time feels like it disappears. When you finally blink your eyes open, groggy and confused, the van’s already moving, and you hear muffled voices. Your crew is in the van now, going about their business like nothing happened. Instinctively, your hands fly to your chest, covering yourself, but you’re already dressed—the same clothes from the show.

Relief floods through you, though you’re not sure why. Then you realize where your head is resting—not on the uncomfortable seat like before, but on Joshua’s lap. His thick thighs beneath you are surprisingly comfortable, his body warm against yours.

You feel him stir beneath you, his body shifting as he wakes up too. His hand brushes against your arm, and you glance up, meeting his eyes. His hair’s a bit messy, his eyes still heavy with sleep, but there’s this soft smile on his face, one that makes you feel like everything’s okay.

“Mornin’,” he murmurs, voice rough from sleep, his hand absentmindedly stroking your arm.

“Mornin’,” you echo back, your own voice low and hoarse.

There’s a moment of quiet between you, the rest of the van oblivious to the weight of everything that passed between you two last night. You shift a little, feeling his thighs under you, and the memories flash through your head—the heat, the sex, the things you said and did. You wonder if he’s thinking about it too.

“You slept through everything,” he teases, his smile widening, though there’s a hint of something unspoken behind it.

You chuckle, adjusting slightly but still keeping your head on his lap. “Guess I was tired, hm?”

“Tired? You passed out,” he grins, his hand moving to gently fix your hair. “Had to dress you. Can’t have the crew thinking… well, y’know.”

Your face flushes a bit, imagining him trying to carefully dress you without waking you up. “Thanks for that.”

“No problem,” he says, his tone playful but gentle. There’s a pause, the kind that stretches just long enough to make you wonder what’s next, what happens after this.

You glance around at the others in the van, but it’s like they’re in their own worlds. No one’s paying attention, no one’s noticed how close the two of you are, how your head’s still in his lap, how his fingers are still brushing through your hair like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

You can get used to it, can't you?

[steddieas-shegoes]

Country singer Steve Harrington, who has always leaned more into the pop country side of things (think Wanted by Hunter Hayes), but wants his third album to be more true to old school country roots.

His label agrees but only if he works with Eddie Munson, a rock star who had to leave the spotlight when he got kicked out of his band for, well, rockstar behavior gone too far.

Steve isn't amused, especially because he doesn't care for metal music or rock star shenanigans. He was "raised better" and doesn't think Eddie could sit down and write songs with actual emotion and feeling.

Cue long songwriting sessions where Eddie is trying his hardest to be on his best behavior because he knows this is his last shot at being taken seriously, and Steve being surprised every time Eddie proves that he's talented as a songwriter and musician, well outside the scope of just metal and rock.

They write a song that they're both so proud of, Steve asks if he'll record it with him just for fun. The released version would just be Steve.

Eddie agrees.

It's an incredible duet, something country music has needed forever, but Eddie doesn't want that version out there.

The label genuinely accidentally releases their version instead of the Steve only version. As soon as they realize, they remove it from official places, but it's too late.

Fans have already heard it and have gone crazy over it, begging them to let the radio play this version, begging for this version to be available for streaming. The Steve version is great, but it doesn't have the emotion that's laced in the tone of them singing together.

Eddie finally gives in when he sees how happy Steve is about the reaction to it.

But the label decides they want them to tour together, have Eddie work as his opening act, perform his acoustic songs that haven't been officially released anywhere. Eddie can't do it.

He can't go back into that lifestyle. He couldn't do it to his band, who made him promise that he'd come back to them when he got his shit straight. He can't do it to his fans, who stuck by him through some rough shit, but probably wouldn't support a fucking country music career. He definitely can't do it to Steve, who deserves to have someone with him who can be trusted not to go off the deep end.

So he runs. He hides. His uncle welcomes him home, congratulates him on finally embracing his country roots.

It doesn't take long for Steve to find him.

Because he'd been more honest with Steve than he'd ever been with anyone. He told him about his childhood, his Uncle Wayne, his struggle to make it. He told him about his worse struggle when he did make it, how he got in with the wrong people, the wrong things. Prioritized the lifestyle more than his own life.

Of course Steve knew where he'd run to.

Of course Steve came to remind him what his life could be if he allowed himself to find new priorities.

Steve's lips were pretty persuasive, but not nearly as persuasive as his promises to remind him what he could have if he kept his life his priority.

"But what if I let you down?"

"You won't."

"But-"

"No. You won't. You're gonna do amazing things for yourself. And I'm gonna be there to see it happen. That's all."

And he was.

They co-wrote Steve's entire album while Eddie worked on recording his own original songs. He liked that it was an old school rock and roll feel, some blues, some country, some hints of metal sneaking in on a couple songs.

He called his band to come help him with a song, hesitant to even ask, but they came. Of course they came.

He called his Uncle Wayne to play banjo on a song, worried that he wouldn't like the heavier electric guitar notes over it. Of course he loved being involved.

When their tour started, he let himself actually feel nervous.

But instead of running, he looked at the man who supported him through it, even when his own career was on the line.

Of course Steve was there.

[luveline]

hello lovely angel!! humbly requesting zombie!steve au, perhaps more of jealous steve? i love their dynamic so much💗 maybe someone is flirting with reader, and enter protective steve:)

thanks for requesting! fem, 2k

You tend to think of it in two weird halves. You love Steve, and you never would’ve known that without the end of the world, so things are okay. Sometimes you wonder if he ever could’ve loved you if he hadn’t been so close to you for so long, but he loves you in this insane capacity of softness that says otherwise. Like, soulmate style. 

It didn’t begin that way. Steve your reluctant guide, and you his unlikely saviour. You’d stopped him from dying at the very start of it all and he couldn’t leave you behind. And Steve, he’d been mean to you. He didn’t want to take care of you initially, but you’d grown to get along. You’d argue black and blue and he’d still rub your back at night. 

There are so many moments you’ve shared that make what you have all the more special. A hundred different memories from before you’d ever kissed. You think about it now, watching him across the firepit as he shows a young girl, Cassandra, how to braid her hair. 

The one that’s sticking today is when Steve got really bad food poisoning for the first time. When you’d known you were in love with him for a while, and when he’d stopped pretending he didn’t know. He’d been sick everywhere, on both your shoes, and you’d rubbed his back through everything.  

It was nice to take care of him. Nicer that night when you’d shared a bed and he’d hugged you half to death. 

He has no idea how much he means to you, or how much those moments with him kept you going when you were all alone. You’re lucky now to have found community, but those stolen hours in bed with him hugging him and getting to be his support, you wouldn’t have made it here without them. 

“Hey.” 

You look up as a man sits down. A boy, a man —what do you call twenty somethings? You don’t feel like a woman most of the time, but you are. 

“Hi,” you say. 

“I’m Jamison.” 

“You’re Eddie’s friend, right?” 

“Who, Munson?” Jamison makes a kidding face, a disgusted scrunch of his eyebrows that falls away to more friendly fondness. “Yeah, we go back. You’re Eddie’s friend too, right? I saw you guys taking out some laundry a few days ago.” 

Jamison is handsome. He has tan skin, short hair, and a crooked nose. His smile is disarming. If you hadn’t fallen in love with the handsomest guy around, you might feel nervous under his gaze. 

Time spent ugly under Steve’s reverent handling makes you confident. You genuinely feel prettier knowing Steve loves you, and it makes it easier to be yourself with strangers. 

“Eddie’s awesome,” you say easily. “I thought he was gonna kill me when we first met, but he’s too nice.” 

“Nice, really?” 

Jamison is casual, as people go. You wonder what his motivations are for talking to you at first, but as conversation stretches, littered with the cracking pops of the fireplace and brief pauses of surprisingly comfortable silence, you realise he’s just talking. Maybe he’s lonely. You know how that feels. 

He tells you that he and Eddie had been in a rock band together before the apocalypse. You’d known to some extent that Eddie was in a band, but Jamison tells you all the details you’d been missing. They were called Corroded Coffin, four members, Eddie played guitar and Jamison thought he was pretty fucking good at it, actually. 

“I don’t think we would’ve been, like, Metallica. But we could’ve been good. We were gonna make a record.” 

You smoke sympathetically. “I bet you could’ve been.” 

“What were you doing? Before all this?” 

“I honestly barely remember,” you say quietly. Your life before Steve is a blur, and it’s painful, too. “Things are harder now, I know that. I wish every day that we could go back to how things were, you know, I miss TV and grocery stores and my family.” You lick your lips. “I wish things were different, but somehow, I think I like my life now. I have stuff to do. Is that crazy?” 

“It’s not crazy. Everything fucking sucks,” —you both laugh— “but that’s not crazy. I’m lucky, I still have my dad, and my friends. There’s purpose in being here.” 

You nod emphatically, just once. “Exactly.” 

You have purpose, now. You get to be a friend, a girlfriend, a confidente. You take care of people. 

It all comes back to Steve, at the end of the day. Would you change the world if it meant never having met him? 

Nope. 

You glance across the fire for him, but he’s not there. 

You put your arm behind your back and bend, looking for him. 

“Looking for someone?” Jamison asks. 

You deflate with relief when you spot him standing near the gaggle of tents about fifty feet away. He’s looking at you from over Robin’s shoulder. You wave, and he waves back with a big smile. 

Something seems a little wrong. 

“Steve,” you explain. 

“He’s your boyfriend, yeah? Eddie told me you’ve been together since the start.” 

You don’t bother correcting him. He might not mean together as how you’re thinking it. “Yeah, that’s him. Have you met him?” 

“Kind of. We all thought he was a huge dick, back then.” 

“He sort of was,” you say. “I mean, we all had our own stuff going on. I get that I’m biased, but he’s my favourite person I’ve ever met. He’s so kind, I don’t think I could describe it to you or anyone just how much he cares about people. I wouldn’t be here without him, and… I don’t know, I’m not saying you’re wrong, but if you ever wanted to meet him again, he’s amazing. He’s a great friend. He’s so fucking funny, he makes me laugh every day.” 

“He’s sort of giving me the stink eye,” Jamison says. 

You wave your hand weakly. “He has raging jealousy issues.” 

“Shit, am I getting you in trouble?” 

“No, never!” you say, tempted to laugh. “He doesn’t get mad at me for stuff like that. He’s normal, I promise. Just sensitive.”

You tell Jamison that it was nice talking to him because it really was, but you’ve been missing Steve for hours already and you need to get back to him before you go totally bonkers. 

He’s sitting on the floor in the tent. The weather has been beautiful lately, you could sleep under the stars if you weren’t scared of being zombie charcuterie. Steve has stripped down to just his jeans and socks, no t-shirt or shoes to be seen. He has his sketchbook splayed open on his thigh, but he abandons it the moment you kneel down. 

“Hey,” you say. 

Steve folds his book closed, pencil between its pages. “Hi. Have I told you lately how beautiful you are?” 

You shuffle in to take his hand. Clumsy touches, his fingers warm and a tad clammy between yours. “You told me yesterday that I have a smile like an angel. I know you were kidding, but I still felt it.” 

“I wasn’t kidding,” he says, wrinkling his nose with a smile. “You think every compliment is a joke.” 

“Don’t make me laugh so much, then.” 

He squeezes your fingers gently. “Sorry I didn’t introduce myself to Jamison. Just, I knew him already from school. And he did not like me.” 

“That’s okay. He seemed nice, I think you’d get along if you met now.” You kick your shoes off and crawl as close to him as you can get. He looks up at you, but you look down at his lap. “What are you drawing?” 

“I was just trying to touch up that landscape I did of the river,” he says, a sheepishness to him as he opens his sketchbook. 

You read it with affection, trace lines and hatchings in awe. “Steve, I really wish you had time and space to do this stuff properly. Not that you aren’t doing it properly, just, I know you could make something just as beautiful as this with paint.” You slide to be sitting properly, putting you both at the same height, so you can meet his eyes as you continue. “Did you know what you wanted to do, when you were finishing school? Did you ever think about art?” 

“I thought about it.” His lips quirk. “Mostly about how my dad would’ve kicked me out if I said something that stupid.” 

“It’s not stupid.” 

“I know.” 

That would’ve been a nice life. You and Steve living together, with a basement for his paintings, or a garage turned studio. You’d read books together every night like you do now, and you’d scrub paint smudges off of his cheek. 

You love him so much it must give you an aura. 

“I’ve got nothing to worry about, huh?” he asks softly. 

You drift in, tipping your head back for a kiss you don’t take. “I don’t know, Steve, Jamison used to be in a rock band.” 

He scoffs in disgust. You think it might be a mixture of anger at Jamison and himself. “Who wants to date a rockstar?” 

“I might’ve.” 

You’re teasing, of course, smiling as your kiss draws nearer, and nearer. 

“Well, I can be a rockstar,” he says quietly, warmth of his breath on your lips. “Just give me a chance to get there.” 

You brush the tip of your nose against his and hold your breath. “That’s okay,” you say, letting it rush out of you in a huff, your excitement to be kissed too much to bear, “I like my guys all mixed up. Preferably good at track, and swimming, but with a soft side. Kind of guy who fills a sketchbook up with my face.” 

Steve lists to the side. Your lips are so close, you can feel the phantom of them against yours as he moves in. “It’s not just your face… it’s your hands, your arms… your everything–”

He cuts his own explanation off with a soft kiss. That softness swiftly hardens, turns rough, ten long seconds of sweetness before his hands coming up behind your head and he’s pressing inward, deepening the kiss, and giving you little room to breathe. 

You have no intention of dating any rockstars, but his jealous streak has nothing but upsides for you. Steve knows that his jealousy over the innocuous is his own problem, his own insecurity that he’s working on, and while you sympathise with him (after all, haven’t you yourself worried he’d find someone else he liked more?), you have to confess to enjoying the edge to his kissing. 

You make a pleased, humoured sound as he breathes you in like you’re a drug he’s been waiting for. He gets sloppier, and you can’t help pulling away to laugh. 

“What?” he asks, thumbing at your cheek in a soft juxtaposition. “Sorry, am I being a dick?” 

“No, it’s fine. Kiss me how you want to.” 

Steve kisses your cheek softly. “He knows you have a boyfriend, right?” 

“He knows.” 

Steve hums like he’s smiling and nudges your nose with his, until you part your lips, and he wades in for another dose. 

[good-griief]

losing game pt. 1

HEYYYY i'm actually back with a lil smutty angsty ellie fic bc i needed to write for this woman... anyway here's part one its only a lil angsty i just wanted an excuse to write rly gay smut so enjoy and p2 tmrw!!

as most of yall know any reader i write (as a poc writer) has no race, i just wanted to use a picture of taylor momsen bc i love tpr and that's definitely the vibe of the music in this fic

part two part three

read me click me

──────────✿───────────

Being in the rock scene was your dream. You started with small gigs, then small venues and festivals, and now you had a band to go along with your music. Your career was kicking off and it felt like heaven; every performance, every song, all the adrenaline made for some of the best nights of your life. 

When you picked your band, you hand-selected each member, and to say you picked your guitarist for any reason other than how pretty she was would be a lie. Yes, she was amazing, but you also couldn’t speak when she walked in for her interview. She just smiled, laughing at the way you stared at her before your manager started talking for you. He often did, she came to realize. 

She still accepted the moment you offered her the position, but she made it clear that she didn’t like your manager. She accepted for you; to be with you.

And she slowly became your favorite part of performing. You had this way of connecting with each other — of course, you were close with all of your band members, but she was different. You’d spend time together one-on-one, smoking a joint and talking about nothing until one of you had to force yourself to go. You’d get coffee together, have dinners, and even spend the night at each other’s apartments. Whenever someone asked about you two, you said you were best friends. Even when she was waiting for you at the end of the carpet, and you both laughed at your answer like it was some kind of inside joke. 

Even when you were onstage, on your knees, singing your most sensual song to her as she melted to your level, smirking as her hips thrust against the electric guitar. Sometimes, she even sang with you. You’d hold her face, or thread your fingers through her hair as you held eye contact or rested your forehead against hers with shut eyes, and if there was a break in the song you’d kiss her hard — a stage kiss that the crowd would erupt in cheers over. But they happened offstage, too… after a shared joint or during a party. Nothing more.

She’d let you place your fingers on the strings of her guitar to find the chords as you stood behind her, her head leaning back on your shoulder in a way that showed the muscles on her neck as she breathed in heavy, hot breaths. She let you wrap your hand around her throat, groaning in your ear as fans caught pictures of you dragging your tongue over her sweat-ridden jaw or biting her shoulder as she grinned. 

There was one night you let her take over the mic as you danced along. She played her guitar, singing and watching you until you sang with her. Your hands drifted down her thighs as you kneeled behind her, the crowd screaming as you lifted her shirt and came around to kiss the line of hair below her belly button. She smirked, stopping her playing and fisting your hair to pull your head back as you laughed. 

Nights when you’d take off your shirt, tossing it into the audience and pouring your water on yourself before she came to lick it up, tongue dragging over top of your breasts as you sang breathlessly. There were times she had to wrap her arm around your back to keep you standing when she did that, the action so intimate, so arousing, that it was hard to remember why you were on stage and not in your dressing room, alone with her. Some nights she’d take her shirt off and give it to you if she didn’t want anyone else to see you, smiling at you with her shirt on before you came over to kiss her cheek. 

There were moments with other band members, but none of them were like her. They didn’t make you feel the same — none of them were her. 

So, when the end of her contract came up and she talked to you about leaving to pursue other things, you were devastated. You didn’t think she’d leave, but after a talk with your manager, her decision was set. 

“I think you should,” you told her anyway. “Whatever makes you happy, Els, seriously. I’ll support whatever you do.” She smiled, taking your hand to kiss. On the inside of her fingers, and yours, you could see the matching tattoos you got months ago, threading your fingers together so they match up. 

You dedicated your last show with her to her. It was a surprise, and she cried when you said it in the beginning, but she just turned away to shake it off quickly. At least, she did until you started crying during a song you wrote for her — it was another surprise from you and the rest of the band, but the minute she saw you crying she couldn’t keep it together. She came over to hug you, kissing the top of your head as she let you hide your face in her chest. The crowd awed, but Ellie took the mic to say you’d be back. She set it down and lifted your head to make you look at her. “I love you, pretty girl,” she said, away from the microphone so no one heard her, but they could sound it out if they wanted to. “Please don’t cry.” She wiped beneath your eyes, ignoring the camera flashes and screams from the crowd. “I hate that I can’t do anything about it right now.”

You smiled. “I’m gonna miss you so much.” 

She laughed at you. “It’s not like I’m going anywhere.” She nodded to the microphone. “Finish my song, I wanna hear the rest.”

“You’re an idiot,” you said, now standing at the mic and making the audience laugh. 

You were such an idiot. 

She never told you what other things she wanted to pursue, but you should’ve known. 

Of-fucking-course she was pursuing her own music. Of-fucking-course she was starting her own band. With yours. Of-fucking-course all of their contracts ending over the course of a few months would amount to this. Of-fucking-course each last show you dedicated to them meant nothing. 

You couldn’t even be mad. It was smart. But you were beyond hurt. 

And she still dedicated her first show to you. She texted you herself, asking you to come. 

When would you learn your lesson?

“I just want to thank you guys for coming,” she said to an audience of mostly your fans. “You might know me — us — from a backup band, but we got a little tired of being backup, didn’t we?” The band laughed. “So, uh, my name’s Ellie if you don’t know… probably don’t,” she laughed as if you’d never thanked or introduced your band before. “And I just want to dedicate this show to the previous artist I worked with. I wouldn’t be here without her, so she means… a lot,” she said it so fucking snarky, “to me, and… I have a few songs for her… if you all wanna guess which ones they are.”

And her first song was the biggest Fuck You song you’d ever heard. 

Still, she texted you after the show. 

She didn’t ask you to come to another show, and maybe that was because you announced a break from music, or because she was getting so much attention that she didn’t care. You saw her at award shows sometimes, and she would cheer when you won. Of course, you’d cheer for her too, but it never went beyond that. Almost like it was an unspoken rule that you weren’t on speaking terms. 

But the minute you came back to the scene, almost a year later, she texted you for the first time since her first show. 

You didn’t reply at first. You hadn’t kept up with her at all during your break, your manager telling you to stay away from any of her and her band's promotions and interviews. He had you block all of them and their numbers, but you couldn’t bring yourself to block Ellie’s. And you were glad you didn’t. Usually, you didn’t have your phone on you until late at night, your manager having your assistant handle your messages and social media, but you were about to fall asleep when she texted. As if she remembered your schedule. 

And it prompted you to look her up. Then her and you, and you could see countless videos. 

every time ellie has mentioned “her” compilation was what you decided to click on. It was made by an account that was clearly a big fan of hers, so you readied yourself for any hate that’d be thrown your way. 

The first clip was an interview, asking her why she split from your team. “You know, I really loved her and her team,” she said, “still really love her. It’s just hard being reminded, constantly, that you're a stepping stone and your time is running low, you know? We might’ve held her back if we stayed, and she was moving on to better things,” it sounded like she was quoting someone else. “—I mean, she always wanted us to shine, and I’m so grateful for her. I really miss being on stage with her, but I don’t miss anything else besides her and I think that says a lot.” 

Another was on her way into a hotel, a reporter asking if you congratulated her on an award. You could remember seeing her at the show before your manager called you over just as she was walking your way. She laughed, “haven’t talked to her in months.” 

Another of a sit-down interview with the whole band, your name being brought up and Ellie snapping at them, “You know I really wish people would stop asking me about her.” She got choked up as the others answered, nose reddening when the question finally circled back to her. “We’re not friends, we don’t talk, she doesn’t want anything to do with us, so...” She shrugged, pissed off. 

The next was another interview. It seemed she was just having to get used to being asked about you. “I’ve tried to reach out,” she said, “maybe she changed her number.” 

Another. “She was my best friend, I miss her a lot. I hope she’s doing okay.” 

And another, asking about her songs. “Yeah, I wrote a lot about her — No, I don’t regret it. I feel like it reflects a moment in time, you know? It was a really nice moment — I mean, I still have our matching tattoos,” she laughed, showing the tattoos on the insides of her fingers. 

Another, after a show. She was always emotional after shows, and it made it harder to watch as she wiped her eyes when the interviewer asked what your relationship really was. “I don’t fucking know,” was her answer before she walked away. 

Some of them were sweet, memories you shared that made you laugh. Others made you sick with guilt, like when she mentioned your lack of response or you blocking the band. Some just made you sad. And you felt like an idiot for doing this, but after reading the comments, some defending you for not running your socials or phone, or angry with you for the same reason, you played a compilation of the two of you together from the same account. 

Then you called Ellie. 

It rang once before sending you to voicemail and you just hung up. You kept your attention on the video to distract yourself from how much that stung. 

But she called right back. 

You stared at the phone for a moment, seeing the contact poster of the two of you at her last show with you lighting up your screen and feeling your words get caught in your throat as your eyes stung. You grabbed the phone, answering quickly. “Ellie?” It was silent, “Ellie, I just wanted to say, I had no idea… I understand if you never want to talk to me again, but I—“ You cleared your throat, trying not to sound like you were about to cry. “I’m really sorry.”

“I thought — I didn’t think you were going to — It feels so good to hear your voice,” was what she settled on after stammering through a few sentences. “You have no idea how much I’ve, just, wanted to talk to you…”

You bit down on your lip as you listened to her. She didn’t sound angry, but she clearly had so much to say to you. Her voice was filled with feeling as she went on, trying to get everything out as if she thought you’d hang up the phone at any minute. You just listened, shutting your eyes and bringing your hand over your face as hot tears spilled down your cheeks. You couldn’t bring yourself to understand why you were so emotional, maybe it was the fact that you misunderstood her so easily, or that your manager had ruined your relationship with her, or maybe it was even that you were just getting to hear her talk after so long, but she paused the moment she heard you trying to calm your breathing. 

“Please don’t cry.” She already knew. “I hate it when you cry and I can’t do anything about it.”

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled. “Keep talking. What were you saying?” You looked at your computer, auto-playing something else of the two of you. It was clips of you on stage and during interviews, heads on each other's shoulders, hugging, kissing each other’s cheeks, singing together. You pursed your lips, tears coming quicker as you slammed your laptop closed. “Ellie,” you cut her off, biting at your lip as you looked at the empty spot on your bed she used to take some nights, “what are you doing right now?” 

“I’m on my way,” she said quietly, and you could hear her shuffling on the other line. She was probably getting ready to go to sleep, and wake up to no response just like every other time she messaged you. And you would have woken up with no idea she even texted you. “Do you want me to stay on the phone?”

“If you’re already headed to sleep—“

“I’m coming over,” she said. “I’m already in the car, I’ll be there in ten, okay?”

“Okay…” Now you felt bad for making her leave her house, looking outside at the snowfall and sniffling as you tried to wipe your eyes. “I’ll see you soon.” You hung up the phone and groaned at yourself, shoving your head in your pillow. 

You opened your laptop, typing in the song names people speculated she wrote for you and queuing them all. Not one was the one you heard during her first show, and it made you feel even worse by the time the doorbell rang. You moved off of your bed, wiping your eyes and going to the door to buzz her up to your apartment. 

You waited by the door, balls of your feet kicking at the floor as you crossed your arms and waited for her to knock. It was the same rhythm she used to knock in, and where it usually made you smile, it made you cry more. God, you missed her, and you didn’t even realize how much until now. You took too long to open the door and you heard the lock click. She still had her set of keys, and that made you feel worse, too. She’d probably texted you about returning them, and you never got to see it. Nothing was making you feel better as she opened the door, and seeing her face just made it worse. 

“God,” she muttered, immediately bringing her arms around your waist. She tucked her head into your shoulder, shutting her eyes as your arms went around her shoulders. Her hands held you like you’d disappear the minute she let go, thumbs running soothingly back and forth over your shirt. “I missed you so much,” she said. “They all wanted me to get over it, but I knew there was no way — I knew we had something more than just — fuck, I know you better than they do. I know I do.” Her lips brushed your skin with every word. “I missed you so fucking much,” she repeated, hugging you tighter. 

Just her touch made your tears slow to a stop, relaxing into her hold and hugging her so tight, but she didn’t care. She was happy to be back in your arms. Your hand drifted to her hair, cradling her head to your shoulder. You could remember the nights you spent playing with her hair until you fell asleep and the thought made you run your fingers through it. She sighed, pulling her head back but refusing to let you go. 

There was a silence as you moved her hair out of her face, tucking the strands behind her ear. Slowly, your hand cupped her cold, flushed cheek. She leaned into your touch, eyes falling to your lips as your thumb stroked her cheek. 

“Ellie,” you muttered and she hummed, turning her head to kiss the inside of your palm. “I missed you, too,” was all you chose to say despite the wanting in the way you said her name. Her hand took yours as she kissed the inside of your wrist. “So much…” Her kisses trailed up your arm, with more of a meaning behind them than any of the kisses you’d given each other before. 

You moved your hand back to her face, turning her head toward you. She met your eyes, hers shining in the low light. They fell to your lips again and she leaned in, kissing your cheek. She kissed away every tear stain, still wet and warm. She moved closer and closer to your mouth, but never kissed you, kissing away the stains on your other cheek instead. 

Then you turned your head, catching her lips for a brief moment before she pulled back. There was a moment of hesitation, neither of you able to speak before she pressed her lips to yours. They were still cold from being out in the snow, but they warmed as you kissed her back, pressing your body impossibly closer to hers as she sighed into your mouth. She couldn’t tell you how long she had wanted this, but she knew it was long enough that her waiting for you was pathetic.

[simpjaes]

how about jealousbf!heeseung who takes you to the empty soundproof vocal rooms and stuffs you full with no mercy after you looked at jay a little too much while they were doing their dance practice

tags: front man heeseung, wannabe groupie reader, he's not her bf !! non idol au, they're just in a band !!

wc: 1k

looking at jay was never an issue until heeseung was looking at you.

who would blame you though? it's not your fault Sunghoon always brought you to band practices. it's not your fault that Heeseung never really paid attention to you before they managed to finesse their way onto a label.

then again, it's not like you knew that Heeseung was always looking. You always seemed to share a gaze between him and everyone else too, so it wasn't really a competitive thing until he noticed you consistently looking at jay more and more.

Hah, always the fucking guitar players too. What do they have that he doesn't? Aside from skilled fingers?

Arguably, Heeseung's fingers are quite skilled too. Just because he's the front man doesn't mean he can't fuck like a guitarist.

So, well, it all really started when you didn't show up. It's rare that you don't, honestly, and all the members seem to miss you when you're not there but man.

Jay sure is a fucking asshole.

"I think she wants me." He joked that one day, nudging Sunghoon and watching them both nod in confirmation that yeah, it's probably true.

"I could take her into one of the soundproof rooms, none of you would even know." he said on that same day, giving Heeseung the idea to do it first.

After all, it's not like he hasn't seen you disappear into sticky bathrooms or dingy band van's at several small town shows with other bands and their members. Why would he be any different? Why would Jay be any different?

Exactly. You're a wannabe groupie and Heeseung is far too willing to feed into your fantasy of fucking a rock star now rather than later.

Jay likes the chase. Heeseung likes the hunt.

And so, that next "practice?" Of course you showed up. Bright eyes, slutty outfit, doe eyes blinking in awe at a bunch of guys who haven't even debuted past a burned CD with shit sound quality? Heeseung approaches you.

Being the front man and all, it's not hard to get you alone as the members take their time doing their own work on the new song. Heeseung's vocals were all finished, and Jay was too wrapped up in his guitar solo recording to notice you eye fucking him again.

"Welcome back, we missed you last time." Heeseung starts in a sweet voice, opening his arms out for a hug.

You kind of quirk your brow at him because, well, you've known the dude for like two years by this point but never has he done more than an awkward side hug while covered in sweat and the scent of musk and alcohol after a show or a hard practice session.

"Oh?" You question, surprised by the grip he holds on you.

"Wanna come with me somewhere?" He asks again, even though the question felt more like a demand in the way he immediately starts dragging you away from the recording studio and into the hallway.

You don't really say much, being more of a go-with-the-flow person than anything. You just shrug, following him into what you obviously know is one of the sound proof rooms they've used previously to practice the noise music.

Working out the kinks of a song doesn't always sound so good, yknow? Nobody really wants to hear that shit til it's ready either.

And it's not like you're stupid or anything. You know what this is, when he steps inside and closes the door behind you. In fact, you're entirely down for it despite not really knowing why the band's front man suddenly wants to be alone with you.

"Hah," Heeseung smirks, watching you already start to slip your shirt off. "I knew it."

You just kind of look at him.

"Well, what else would I expect after being dragged in here?" You ask, pausing your movements and allowing your shirt to fall back into place against your waist.

"I don't know?" He laughs back, rolling his eyes at you briefly before boxing you up against the wall. "Jay?"

You smirk.

"Honestly? Yeah. We've been eye fucking each other for ages." You laugh, brushing Jay off entirely. "Didn't expect you to be the one to come after me."

"Well, if you would have stopped staring at his fingers for thirty seconds maybe you would have noticed it."

"What can I say? He moves fast."

"And you think I would? You've seen what I can do with my tongue, right?"

You pause, noting all those instances during shows where he definitely treated his tongue like some sort of mating ritual. Licking up his microphone, flicking it between his fingers, even going as far as flattening it at multiple city girls that seemed to want a bad boy for the night.

"Don't think I have, actually." You roll your eyes playfully, blinking at him innocently. "Care to elaborate?"

Man, he elaborated.

Without another word, actually. Which was a bit of a shock to you, considering he likes to rasp those vocals all night through song and shrieks. Ah, the sounds are so much different vibrating when his tongue is buried into you, moving faster than you'd have expected.

What's worse? You never really noticed how pretty his vocals could sound until he was muttering out words of degradation towards you. He went in raw, explaining that it's his right. That he should be the first to feel your pussy squeeze him dry. Whispers questions of how many other men have been in you like this. Asking if you've always been this breathless for them. Asking why you're not screaming loud enough for Jay to hear, even through the soundproof room.

In reality, your throat is dry from allowing yourself to be loud for him. Rasping and panting confirmations of his filthy words, only to feel him plunge into you harder, harder, harder. Like a mantra of a song he only wishes he could write.

The proof of having you before Jay could, the proof of fucking you better than anyone else could.

By the end of it all, to Heeseung? Doesn't really matter if every other member of his band has a turn with you know. He's only gonna ask what his dick tastes like. He's only gonna ask if they fucked you cross eyed too. Because he knows the answer will be no.

Why?

Because you keep coming back for more. Up until Jay takes note, mentioning a month later to Sunghoon, right there in front of everyone,

"What's gotten into her? She practically ignores me."

And of course Heeseung smirked, giving him the answer he probably didn't want to hear.

"Me."

[afyrian]

hi :3 for your event could i call captain america for a screeching noise pls !! (´；Д；`) w suna or sakusa i don’t mind :3

sweaty palms and hearts suna rintaro x fem!reader (fluff) m.list | wc: 941 | prompts: brother's best friend + band au

    peeking out of the curtains, you feel your hands getting clammy. the velvet texture runs along your palm, feeling odd against the callouses on your fingers. taking in a deep breath, you let them close back together, the loud cries of the crowd slowly drowning out. shaking your hands, you roll your head, trying to steady your breathing.

  you commit to this exercise every gig, rain or shine. running your hands up and down your shirt, closing your eyes to mentally encourage yourself. when you open your eyes you're faced with the sight of suna walking onto the stage, spinning a drumstick in his hand. looking over at you, his gaze softens, mind emptying of the nervousness he's been feeling. 

  "you getting ready?" he asks, both to you and himself, hand shoving the drumsticks into his back pocket.

  pursing your lips, you nod, fingers fiddling absentmindedly. staring at your guitar, you swallow down the nervousness sitting idly in your throat. "yeah.. yeah, i'm just feeling- i don't even have the words, there's just so many people," resting your hands on the back of your neck, you pace the stage. 

  "you do great every time, n/n, you're gonna do fine now," he walks up to you, hands reaching out for yours.

  his thumbs run along the backs of your palms, his fingers noticeable softer than yours. a smile etches on his lips and for a moment you can feel your heartbeat slow. for a moment you can finally hear your thoughts play out in coherent sentences. he soothes you in a way you've always needed, he's your beat. 

  looking up at him, you take in one more deep breath, fingers tapping against his hands. "thanks, rin," you quietly say, the front of your old converses just barely touching his shoes, inches apart.

  "anything for you, n/n. plus talking to you helps me calm down too," suna breathes out a sigh of relief, his heartbeat returning to the same natural beat, like a drum that's rocking steadily.

  "really? well, i never knew that," you smile wider, feeling your cheeks getting warm, butterflies stirring in your stomach. 

  without missing a single second, his hands free themselves from yours, raising up to your cheeks. resting his thumbs against your cheekbones, his touch is soft and gentle. breath kissing yours, suna looks deep into your eyes, reaching down into your soul, "may i?"

  nodding softly, you lean into his touch, lips pressing against his. the gentle touch of his hands act opposite of his chapped lips. devoid of much chapstick or water, they're rough against your own. suna holds onto you like he's starving without you, as if he's been waiting for this moment his whole life.

  bringing your hands up to his neck, you hold onto him, matching his energy. just as you're about to pull him closer, something falls to the ground, sounding like an old grocery store bag filled with boxes. letting go of his neck, you stand back, biting your lip. looking in the direction of the noise, you see atsumu standing with his mouth wide open. 

  "you two? suna you're kissing my sister?? and y/n? you're kissing my ex-teammate slash bandmate?" his eyebrows furrow, the bags of dessert and snacks he had brought for after resting on the ground.

  holding back a smile, you look back at suna, crinkling your nose. "i'm so sorry you had to see that 'sumu, but he’s not just your bandmate…” you quietly say, hands raising up and covering your mouth.

  suna stays next to you, hands resting by his sides, “she.. well, she is a great person. and i really like her and have known her and you for forever.”

  “this is so weird… god i have to text ‘samu,” atsumu grabs at the phone in his pocket, immediately wanting to tell his twin of their younger sibling’s personal love life.

  shaking your head, you take a few steps towards him, hoping to stop him from contacting your other brother. raising the phone higher, atsumu starts typing out a message, thumbs tapping quickly against the screen. “no! you’re not telling him!” reaching up once more for his phone, you give up, knowing there’s only one other way you’ll get it…

  you jump up from your spot, wrapping your arms around his neck. your legs wrap around his torso, the heels of your shoes dig into his stomach. one of your hands pushes against his face as your hand reaches out to his. your fingers push against his phone, attempting to get him to loosen his grip just enough that you can pull it from his hand. luckily, the pressure against his nose causes his hand to instinctively open. 

  grabbing the phone, you begin deleting the message, including the many typos. “no! you are not ruining this for me before ending something before it’s even begun!” shoving it into the pocket opposite of your own phone, you look down at his face, eyebrows raise.

  “i won’t send anything if you get off me!” atsumu says loudly, fingers pulling at your hand gripping onto his chin, “plus i think you climbing me like a monkey surely isn’t going to attract suna very much.”

  looking back at suna, you can instantly feel yourself growing embarrassed. he’s seen you mess with your brothers more than once, but never has he seen you act as wildly as you did today. he’s holding back a smile as he shrugs, “nah, don’t worry, never getting the ick with you.”

  “now i’m getting the ick…” atsumu frowns, ruffling his hair between his fingers to try to fix your mess.

a/n: thanks for requesting, i hope you like it!! gen. taglist (open): @eggyrocks @causenessus @applepi25 @softpia

[sunalee]

jam to my heart — Jay

summary: The handsome guitarist set his eyes on you, and lucky for him, you did the same.

with: Jay (Park Jong-seong)

warnings: rockstar au!, enhypen as a band, jay is a smooth fella, he's charming enough to make my cheeks warm.

a/n: jay with a guitar is such a perfect sight i can't even ratiocinate. Some of the boys aren't metioned, but they're still part of this au.

“C'mon _____, let’s stay on the front so we can see them better!”

Ami calls you out, dragging you through the ’90s themed new pub you’re visiting, “Cords and Jam”. The place is really cool, with black and white checkered floors, red walls with various themed lamps, and posters of classic rock bands. The staff is very friendly, not to mention the drinks and snacks that make you want to spend your whole wallet there.

But the reason you’re here it’s the almost one-year hiatus, not having seen any live show since this period. You miss this environment, the thrill of waiting for the next band to perform, and even the sound check that the musicians do five minutes before the music starts.

Ami told you about this band tonight, Orange Blood. You haven’t heard anything from them yet, but they’re really known on social media for their impressive covers, skilled talent, and very, very, good-looks. 

Rock is great, but a handsome guy playing makes the experience one hundred times better.

She drags you to the front as you both get your bubbling drinks, fortunately not having too many people blocking your path. You don’t mind being in the back of the room, it’s even better to dance there, but you won’t lie, it’s so exciting being right close to the stage, even with the frenetic heartbeats that make you want to take another sip of the drink.

The band finally arrives, five handsome men in their twenties coming in front of the stage. The crowd shouts excitedly, you join them with your own hollering.

“Good night, everyone! I’m Jake, and we are the Orange Blood!” The blonde lead singer announces, a cheeky smile appearing on his face as he hears the crowd’s euphoric cheers.

The drummer, a dark-haired lad with side shaved haircut and looks of a runaway teen, taps four times the drum sticks together, a cue for the other instruments to start playing as well. On Jake’s left side, there’s the keyboard player and the bassist, the two with similar features and exhaling confidence. You heard around their names were Sunghoon and Heeseung. 

But it’s the guitarist on the right side of Jake who catches your attention; suddenly, he’s the only thing you can focus on.

Not only for his great solo at the beginning, but his very charming personality. The way his fingers pluck the strings with such mastery, as if it were as eyes as breathing, his built arms taken by cool tattoo shapes matching with his dark, medium hair, his thin and well cared lips that forms a pleasing smirk whenever he hears a praise from the female crowd. 

And when you hear his smooth, deep voice singing on his microphone, your legs almost give out.

It’s like this man put a spell on you, taking you to a place without time, space or circumstance, all your senses fixed only on him, mind navigating and daydreaming about different scenarios where he’s the main star, and you, his forever partner.

The show was a blast. Everyone had the time of their lives, and Orange Blood for sure would receive a lot of invitations after this concert. The mysterious guitarist wipes his sweating forehead after waving at the crowd, his black regatta clinging on his torso and making him look even more attractive. Unfortunately, he moves away with the rest of the crown, sparing one last glance before going.

That glance goes directly on you.

You don’t know what to think about it, your heart racing and mind numb from the unexpected moment, but before you can try to come up with something, Ami is dragging you by the hand again, leading you to the bar.

She tells you that she’s going to call her friend outside and would be right back. “Don’t accept drinks from strangers” was the last thing she said before leaving. You decide to order another drink, sitting on a free stool there.

You start wondering about what that gaze meant, the sweet flavor of your pinky lemonade helping your mind work even with the pub buzz. But you focus so much on your thoughts, that you don’t notice the main problem right in front of you, brown eyes staring at you with amusement.

“Pinky lemonade?  Sweeter than I thought you would be, huh?” That smooth, dreamy voice wakes you up, making your heart suddenly flips as you finally realize who just sat beside you. He gives you another one of his charming smirks, supporting his jawline on his hand while he extends the other in your direction. “Jay. A pleasure.”

“______.” Best say your name right away than rambling trying to come up with a sentence. “I-It’s nice to meet you too. You played amazing tonight.” You can’t help but blurt your thoughts. 

“You think so?” He tilts his head, looking even more interested now, his eyes following you like a cat gazing at its prey.

You bite inside your mouth, feeling uneasy but not in a bad way. “Yeah, totally.” You nod to your own sentence. Jay tries to hold back a chuckle. “Uh, shouldn’t you be in your dressing room after playing?”

“And lose the party? What’s the fun in that?” He questions, raising his pointer finger to call the barman. “Same thing she’s having.”

Now you can’t help your chuckle. “Are you a sweet man too?” Your interest wins your nerves, showing Jay your playful side that he’ll surely enjoy in the future.

“I don’t like getting drunk. Especially not when I’ve just met a pretty girl like you.” He flirts without shame, making you swoop into his charm so easily that you even forget that you came with Ami here. Not that she wouldn't support you, anyway.

“I don’t know If I should be flattered.” But you’re not hooked enough to be fooled. Whatever this man wants with you, you want to figure it out now.

He gives you a knowing smile, as he just reads you like an open book in front of him. His pinky lemonade comes just in time for his answer, his hand holding the glass but not taking his brown eyes off you.

He wants you to know that feeling too.

“You should be.” He answers honestly, self-confidence boosting around him. “ It’s not every day that I set my eyes on someone special.” He moves to click his glass with yours, taking his time to take a small sip of his drink before leaning close to you, gaze and smirk never faltering.

“And when I find someone special, doll, I don’t lose my chance.”

© sunalee 2024 — all rights reserved.

[jasmines-library]

As a girl who listens to a lot of metal (all kinds, especially death tbh), I always try to find fics abt the batfams reaction to that, but there’s not a lot to find.

You think you could write that? <3 totally fine if you don’t want/can’t, it’s just such a small thing I think they’d be really interested in!!

Metalhead

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

Note: As a metalhead, how could I refuse? Also Jason definitely listens to metal.

Word count: 0.7k

⛧ BATFAM MASTERLIST ⛧

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

You hadn’t really been paying much attention to what was happening around you. You had your headphones in and were tapping your hands and feet along to the drum of your music. It was turned up quite loud, so you didn’t notice Jason calling your name from across the Batcave as he returned from his patrol.

“Hello? Y/N?” Jason tried again but was still left with no answer as you continued to be absorbed in your music as you watched the screens.

Rolling his eyes, Jason moved closer, the sound of his footsteps resonated throughout the cave. As he approached you, he could hear the muffled sound of your music escaping your headphones. It was loud, with a distinct guitar sound playing overtop.

When Jason tapped you on the shoulder to gain your attention, you flinched slightly and turned around quickly to face him, hand reaching instinctively for the weapon at your hip. Though once you realised it was your only Jason you let your guard down and slipped your headphones off.

“Hey Jay. What’s up?” You asked him.

“I’ve been calling you.”

“Oh. Sorry.” You shrugged. “I was listening to my music. I guess it was louder than I thought it was. What can I do for you?”

“I was just going to ask you if you needed anything from upstairs.”

You pursed your lips in thought for a moment before shaking your head. “No, I’m all good thanks.”

Jason nodded.“What are you listening to anyway?”

You hesitated. It’s not as if you were ashamed of your music, it was just something you had never shared with them before. Between patrol and training, sitting and listening to music together wasn’t one of your priorities.

“...metal?”

“Metal?” Jason squinted. He hadn’t pegged you for being into metal.

“What?” You frowned, confused by his reaction. Worried what he was going to think.

“Nothing.” He hummed. “Just surprised me is all.”

Taking off your headphones from around your neck, you handed them to him. “Wanna listen?”

“Sure.” He placed them over his own ears and you pressed play on your phone. Soon enough he was humming along to the song.

“You know it?” You asked him as he tapped along to the drum solo on the chair.

“Oh yeah. They’re a great band.” Jay replied. “I wish you had told me you liked them sooner. We couldn’t have listened to them together.”

And you did. You and Jason began to listen to metal together quite frequently. Whether it was when you were training or if the two of you had some spare time in the evening. The both of you would sit and listen to it, sharing recommendations, seeing who could scream the loudest along to the vocalist or just jamming out together

It spread pretty quickly through the manor that you enjoyed metal. And although the others were less keen sometimes they would tap along.

Particularly Damian, who liked to imagine he was in some sort of dramatic fight from a movie whenever it played over the aux in the cave.

Dick and Tim were…less keen. They would listen to a few songs, but often would ask to change it to something a little less heavy.

Sometimes, you would catch Tim listening to it once in a while. It was one of his guilty pleasures. He even asked you once for recommendations ‘for a friend’.

Dick was an avid listener of rock music, so although he was not a huge fan of the heavier death metal, he found that sometimes his music strayed onto the cusp of metal but he wouldn’t listen purposefully to it.

Since they found out that you like metal, jamming sessions became a frequent, not just with Jay but with the rest of them too. And even Bruce would join in occasionally. Though, an effort was made to make sure that when Alfred was in the house it wasn’t too loud because none of you wanted to cross that bridge.

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

BATFAM TAGLIST:

@hearts4robs @aestheticdaisies @hell-o-kittys @xxrougefangxx @mamapucket @harleycao

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

[abstractnaturaldisaster]

is it over now? (was it over then?)

part two

part three: you search in every model's bed for something greater

Steve had been doing his best trying to go back to some semblance of normal after Eddie walked out of his life. It wasn't easy and he spent countless nights dreaming up how he could have handled it differently or made Eddie stay or call Robin immediately and beg her to let him tell Eddie (Steve knew she would have but he hadn't wanted to ask her). He knew he could have done countless things differently but the result probably would have ended up the same. At the end of the day, Eddie didn't trust him and at the most basic crux of everything nothing else really mattered.

He was happy for Nance and Robin though. That was the big secret of it all. Robin wasn't ready to come out publicly and Steve offered to let Nancy stay at his place so that if there was any press it would be tied to him and not Robin. Eddie came over at maybe the worst time before he had been able to clear everything with Robin and Nancy was still sleeping off the jet lag from whatever Eastern European country she was reporting in that month. Steve and Nancy had an on again off again thing as kids when they were both getting famous in their own fields having grown up in the same small town. Steve knew Nance was bigger than him but it still stung when they finally admitted it to each other.

Thankfully, the next project Steve was on he met Robin who was the light of his life and his soulmate. He'd been pretty convinced they'd get married at one point until Robin drunkenly admitted she was gay on the bathroom floor of some random afterparty their heads a little fizzy from the champagne. Their relationship quickly pivoted from romantic to platonic and Steve was more than happy to play arm candy to stave off any rumors Robin was sick of circulating. As the years passed and Robin and Steve's circles melded together, Robin and Nancy started gravitating together and even Steve couldn't deny they were kind of perfect together. He'd happily agreed to lend whatever subterfuge he could to keep the two out of the tabloids. Unfortunately he hadn't really thought about bringing his boyfriend in on the plot until a little too late. Fuck him for thinking Eddie would trust Steve though, right? Steve was trying to be more positive as he didn't want to burst Robin and Nancy's new relationship bubble with his grumpy attitude. Instead he was doing what he normally did after a bad breakup -- wallowing and forgetting it happened.

Tabloids followed him around and accused him of sleeping with everyone including Robin’s secret girlfriend but in reality he was mostly at home only scheduling nights out every so often to give the girls some privacy at his loft. Nancy had convinced Robin to head out to the Hudson Valley to have some alone time outside of Steve's apartment so Steve was using his night at home alone to rot on the couch flipping through channels until he spotted a familiar flash of dark curls hammering away on his guitar apparently playing some new single.

Steve was livid. He would’ve been pissed if he had found out about the song in a more low key way way like scrolling through TikTok or getting a text from Robin but he was fucking livid because he found out about the song when Eddie fucking Munson was on Jimmy Kimmel.

Apparently, Eddie had thought it would be fun to release an unexpected single ahead of his band’s rumored fourth album. Steve knew Eddie had to have seen the tabloid fodder after he started going out again making headlines about how his and Robin’s relationship was on the rocks and Steve was auditioning most of the city to take her place. However, he hadn’t expected for Eddie to believe all of the rumors about him. 

Steve's relationship with the tabloids had always been trying. From his very public breakup with Nancy (who everyone asserted won because she immediately starting seeing Jon) to his "slut era" before "settling down" with Robin and more recently to speculating on his relationship with Eddie and what happened with Robin. Steve and Robin had a pretty long discussion about how to handle Eddie and if she wanted Steve to keep Eddie quiet so they could continue playing up their relationship. Robin had given her blessing but Robin wasn't quite ready to come out to anyone outside their tight nit circle of friends even though Steve and Eddie quickly became inseparable. Eddie had understood when Steve told him about Robin's agent and how it was helpful if there were at least rumors of the two dating even though it couldn't be farther from the truth. While they hadn't been super public with their relationship fans of both Steve and Eddie speculated in comments to pictures and stories the two posted but the boys never confirmed anything other than a few cheeky hearts here and there.

Steve had learned about Eddie because one of this kids he grew up babysitting was a huge Corroded Coffin fan and begged Steve to bring him as his plus one to some award show the band was also nominated at. Steve tried to explain to Dustin that is was not common to just run into famous people while they were heading to the carpet but of course the universe proved him wrong and they were right behind Eddie Munson himself. Dustin never had any sense of social propriety so he went right up to Eddie and introduced himself. Steve had pretty quickly fallen for Eddie's quick wit and how kind Eddie was to one of Steve's kids. Steve hung back in the wings but became enamored with the man from afar. Later when they found themselves at the same 30 under 30 event Robin all but pushed Steve into Eddie to force him to finally talk to him. They pretty quickly fell into the rhythm of exclusivity and from there it was a short road to boyfriends.

Early on in their relationship, Steve had thought Eddie and him had gotten over the hump of his history with the press. When Steve and Eddie had started going out on dates without trying to be coy about anything, there was lot of rumors that Steve was cheating on Robin. It had taken a lot of long nights and talks but Eddie seemed to trust that so much of Steve's public persona was presented by reporters who were only looking for a story. Steve thought they'd moved past believing rumors about each other that the press loved to spin. Eddie's song made it pretty clear Eddie believed every shitty headline or tweet or deuxmoi that had come out about Steve fucking his way across town.

It wasn't like Steve could have even tried to set the record straight with Eddie. Steve had tried to contact Eddie shortly after reorienting a very confused and awake Nancy after Eddie slammed Steve's apartment door. Steve didn't tell Nancy exactly what happened but he did tell her that Eddie broke up with him. She held him as he sobbed and realized each way he had to contact Eddie was gone. He'd blocked his number, blocked all of his socials, turned off any messaging Steve could think of.

Steve was devastated Eddie thought Steve was the man the tabloids presented him as even thought he'd worked really hard to make sure all his found family knew he wasn't that person. Apparently Eddie had forgotten all of that. It certainly wasn't helping that Eddie's song was already a Tik Tok trend and Steve was enough of a masochist to scroll through the sound. Steve found far too many edits of him and Eddie timed to the chorus.

Steve felt like he couldn’t escape it or figure out how to at least tell his side of the story. Anything he said would just make him seem like an asshole for moving on so quickly or trying to cover up for cheating on his ex, so Steve kind of resigned himself to private wallowing.

In the end, it wasn't even really all of that that hurt Steve the most. Steve couldn't help but fixate on that one line.

at least I had the decency to keep my nights out of sight

Steve was heartbroken that Eddie had already moved on. Steve may have been going out and putting on a smile at whatever club or restaurant he was passing time in that night. As much as the magazines wanted the world to believe Steve was finding a home in a new girl's bed every night, reentering his notorious bad boy era, Steve went home alone or found himself with Nancy and Robin cuddling on his couch. In Steve’s less than proud moments late at night when he lay awake staring at the ceiling, he’d pull up Eddie’s public insta and may or may not have set up a google alert for any references to Eddie or his band. None of that prepared him for the reality of hearing Eddie croon about his new relationship with someone who wasn't Steve.

Steve had been trying to keep the specifics of their breakup from Robin and Nance. He knew they'd both feel terrible and with no real way to contact Eddie it wasn't worth dragging Robin and Nancy down with him. After going down a Tik Tok rabbit hole listening to people say all kinds of terrible shit about him and doubting his sincerity with Eddie, Steve slunk out of his room to where Nancy and Robin were finishing up their Thursday night movie.

"Steve?" Robin asked as soon as she saw Steve wrapped up in his blanket, eyes puffy and red.

"Rob, I need to talk to you about something." Steve sat across from his friends, tucked his knees into his chest and got ready to dive into the reasons Eddie actually left.

part four

@lololol-1234 (we're getting close to the happy ending i promise)

(if you saw this version earlier when i forgot how i had these two fools meet, no you didn't)

[the-flaminhos]

MAZE RUNNER HEADCANONS CAUSE I SAID SO. Anyways this is gonna end up leaning more towards Minewt/ Newtmas head canons but I want this to be ivy trio so bad so if you squint hard enough that’s what you’ll get. UH YEAH. Angst, fluff, random shit, it’ll probably be here. Also heads up this is MY head so you don’t need to agree dude. ENJOY !!

- In the glade Minho and Newt used to make fun of gally but all in good spirit until gally dragged Minho in the circle just to have his ass whooped

- Thomas and Minho like collecting shells and showing newt but one time they found one that reminded them of chuck, cried, showed newt, and made him cry too

- In the safe haven, when Thomas and Newt started flatting together people would constantly bring up the roommates trope and they wouldn’t get it all the way up until they started dating

- The ivy trio does movie night on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Friday

- Thomas tried the therapy thing where you write notes to people you dislike and set them on fire but everyone got the wrong idea and thought it was a bonfire. That’s how many letters he wrote.

- They started a band they called “Gladiators” but it’s pronounced “Glade-iators” and Minho thinks he’s a genius every time he corrects someone on it

- The band featured fry on the drums and Gally on the guitar, Minho sings, newt plays the bass, and Thomas knows how to fucking play the keyboard.

- Newt and Minho speak in a stupid made up language to confuse Thomas but Thomas learnt the “words” and confused them right back.

- Thomas will call newt stuff like: Babe, baby, dude, and bro

- Newt calls Thomas stuff like: Darling, love, dear, and sweet

- Minho and Brenda start dating and cringe at the sound of both (they call each other honey.)

- In the glade, when it was just newt and Minho up during bonfire nights they’d stargaze for about half an hour before cringing and leaving to sleep with an awkward hug

- Thomas and Minho shadow box each other to see who has to help set up bonfires and Thomas loses every time

- When the three of them had to put names on the tribute rock they all cried at the same intensity while carving Chucks name out

- Newt is a wet the brush and the paste kinda guy, Thomas does his dry, and Minho does his with just a wet brush

- Newt: socks and sandals. Thomas: sandals, no socks. Minho: just socks cause he can’t be fucked with sandals cause he fell while running once.

- Newt likes Caramelo Thomas like almond chocolate and Minho adores white chocolate

- When newt is sad but doesn’t want to do his sobbing to Thomas he’ll cry to Minho for hours as Thomas listens from the other room wondering if he’s still good enough for newt

- Thomas and Minho like eating dinner together when newt decides to eat dinner with his sister

- The first time Thomas and newt made out they were both shit faced so the only person who actually remembers it happening is Minho

- Sometimes when Minho thinks nothing is real newt is experiencing the worst sleep paralysis and Thomas is thinking about what he could’ve done to help everyone. Sometimes it all lines up and they can’t help each other.

- Newt has a fear of throwing up

- Minho hates mint more than life but will always take gum if offered it

- newt: Bloody hell! Minho: holy shuck faced idiot!! Thomas: FUCK!!!

- Newt likes his coffee with more milk than coffee and that only IF he’s drinking the stuff otherwise its tea, Thomas drinks his black and everyone hates it, and Minho is a cappuccino kinda guy

Okay I’ll shut up now whanau😭😭

All my love to you - Nevaya <33

[random-potat]

.:･˚₊ let's get out of here

pairings: theo x fem!reader ft. intak, and chaeryeong and ryujin of itzy

synopsis: with parties not bring your forte, trying to find a way out unexpectedly leads to meeting someone new.

word count: 1.5k

warnings: mild swearing, poor attempts at humour, alcohol consumption

a/n: ahhhh! first written oneshot and it's for theo!! hope you guys enjoy, this honestly took me a while cause although i have the plot in my head im just too lazy to actually write it lol, but worry not as i am working on future fics and ideas ৻( •̀ ᗜ •́ ৻)

Bodies. Alcohol. Sweat. More bodies. More alcohol. More sweat.

"Gross," you thought. "Clearly, parties aren’t my forte." 

You walk over to the crowd, searching for your friends, Chaeryeong and Ryujin. After what feels like being pushed over 20 times, you reach your friends.

“You guys, I think I'm going to head home." You fan yourself, acting as if you feel faint, “feeling kind of lightheaded.”

Chaeryeong turns to you, pushing you to a more quiet area. "Are you ok? It's pretty late right now. Why don't you take a nap upstairs in Intak's room? He said that none of his roommates are here right now. That way, we can go home together."

You nod your head in agreement. "Ryujin was my ride home anyway." You glance back at her, seeing her drunkenly dance around "that is if she's sober enough."

"Which way is Intak's bedroom? I don't want any of his roommates to find some random girl sleeping in their bed." 

"It's the second room on the left."

"OK, wake me up when you guys are done."

"Rest well," Chaeryeong says as you watch her head back to the rest of your friends on the dance floor.

Going upstairs was much more of a challenge than you expected. With people's bodies on top of one another and smoke fumes going through your face, it just wasn't a fun time. Nevertheless, once you make it to the top, you may or may not have forgotten which room to go to.

"Second door, second door, something. Was it left? Was it right? I have a 50% chance here. Left or right?" You looked both ways, still pondering. "Just gonna go with the right-hand rule."

You walk into the room, “Oh shit- oh, I’m sorry. I guess it was the left door." Forgetting that you were still standing there, you make eye contact with the man in front of you. “Thought this was Intak’s room. Sorry to bother you,” you say as you scratch the nape of your neck.

As he stares at you, he fails to remember that he hasn't responded to you yet. Clearing his throat, his voice begins, “uh- no, no, it’s fine. My fault for forgetting to tell Intak that I came back.”

As the air begins to get more and more awkward, you walk backwards towards the exit of the room. "Well, I'm just gonna head to Intak’s room,” you point behind you.

You turn around halfway before hearing the boy say, "Hey! you wanna head out?” Stopping in your tracks, you question him, “What?”

“Let’s get out of here,” he states more boldly. 

You turn around, eyeing him from outside of the room. “I don’t think that would be the best idea, considering we don’t even know one another.” 

He shrugs. “I mean, I'm sure you have nothing better to do. I'm assuming you came up here to get away from all the madness downstairs.” 

You stare at him with a blank expression. “That was just an idea, you don't have to. You can just head to Intak's room,” he says, panicking while moving his hands around. 

As you hesitantly walk back into his room, you inspect every single corner. Seeing posters and vinyls of rock bands like AC/DC and Queen, with little trinkets scattered around his room. Spotting an electric guitar in the corner of his room, you point towards it, “You play?” 

The boy turns to where you point, and he nods, “Yeah, I dabble. Been practicing Until I Found You on it.” 

You turn back to him, finally making your decision, putting your hand out for him to shake. “I'm YN.”  

He grabs your hand to shake and smiles, “Theo.” 

You smile back at him, “Let's get out of here.”

The two of you guys go out on a journey towards the convenience store. As you walked, you expected a somewhat awkward silence but were met with Theo giving his ear buds to you, “just for us to listen to.”

The familiar tune of Beth by KISS surrounds you. Theo says, “I'm just going on a whim that you may like rock songs.” He turns to you, “Don't think that I didn't see you eyeing my AC/DC vinyl.” 

“I will say your vinyl collection is very impressive," you reply. 

Thankful for the music in your ears, the rest of the walk to the convenience store went by smoothly. Small talk and hearty laughs were exchanged, and with the cool breeze passing by, both of you were completely unaware of the butterflies gradually forming in your stomachs. 

Reaching the convenience store, you head straight to the instant food. Grabbing some Neoguri ramen as well as some instant spicy rice cakes, your drink of choice is some good old-fashioned milk tea. 

Walking back to Theo, he shows you his items. Some jelly, strawberry milk, and honey butter chips. He looks down at what you’ve grabbed and asks, “Was the party food really that bad?”

You sighed, “If there even was food, all I saw was alcohol." You looked back in thought, "although I think I did see a bowl of something in the living room.”

After paying for your snacks, the both of you head to a nearby park to hang out.

Sitting down together on a bench and munching on your snack, the night passes by in a blur. Long conversations were held with your guys’ laughter, which could be heard from a mile away. Interests were exchanged, heavy on the topics of interest you both shared.

Finding a similar interest in Harry Potter, questions were being asked back and forth, “Ok, but no, which Harry Potter movie is the best one though?” Theo asks. “Definitely Prisoner of Azkaban, it’s also the best book, and no one could tell me otherwise,” you replied.

Finding out about Theo’s admiration for Emma Watson, you couldn’t help but tease him, “You know, if you dye your hair ginger, you might pass for a Weasley," you say, laughing as he glared at you.

Not knowing the time at all, and with the party long forgotten, your phone blows up with notifications. “I’m going to assume those are my friends." You check the time and realize that you guys have been out for nearly two hours. 

“Holy shit, yeah, we should probably head back. Intak might think I kidnapped you or something.” Theo says as he grabs all the trash.

Arriving back at the house, people can be seen leaving as they're helping their tipsy friends, with some people looking like they're going to stay back for a little bit longer. You spot your friends, looking worried, on the porch with Intak.  

They spot you, putting up their hands to wave at you. As you wave back at them, you turn back to Theo, “guess this is me. It was really fun hanging out with you tonight. Although I was a bit skeptical at first.” 

Theo puts his hand to his chest, “wow that hurt!” feigning a pained expression. 

“Hey, for all I know, you could've just come into this open party and acted like you were Intak’s friend, just to kidnap someone.” 

“Ok, that’s impossible. You saw all my pictures in my room, which happen to have Intak in them," he replies back. 

“Hey, you never know. That could all have been a front that you've planned for months.” 

“Really, YN? Maybe you need to lay off the true crime documentaries for a while.” 

Not really knowing how to leave one another, you both speak at the same time.

“I think my fri-” 

“We should prob-”

 Theo speaks first, “We should probably head inside. Are you staying over?” 

You shake your head. “Nope, class tomorrow, plus I'm pretty sure Ryujin might collapse any time now,” you say as you glance at your friends, who are now heading over. 

“YNNIE!” Ryujin screams, “i missed yuh sooooo muschhhh,” she slurred as she tackled you into a hug. “I was dancing all on the floor thing an YOU were out with a man. like whyyyy? ah we not enuf fir you?” 

You lift her up, putting your arms around her to support her weight. “Okay, now I think it's time for you to head into the car.”. 

You glance back at Theo, “hopefully I’ll see you around?” 

He nods and smiles. “Yeah, I’d like that.” 

As you watch Theo head back to his house, Chaeryeong nudges you with her elbow. “Soo, what’d you guys do?” she teases. 

“Definitely not whatever you’re thinking, that's for sure. C'mon, help me put Ryujin in the car.” 

"Oh, come one, give me the details,” she whines. You shake your head. “Maybe tomorrow morning, when you guys are both sober.” 

“Pinky promise?” 

“Pinky promise.”

As Theo walks towards the house, Intak comes into view with his dopey smile. 

“Stop looking at me like that.” 

“Like what?” Intak replies.

“Like that," Theo waves his hands, “like you’re all knowing or whatever.” 

Intak puts his hands up in surrender. "Look, I'm just saying it seems like you and YN hit it off,” he smiles again, “plus I know she’s single.” He wiggles his eyebrows. 

"Oh, shut up!”

my masterlists

likes and reblogs are appreciated ⋆˙⟡♡

perm taglist; open 📌: @yoizhrs @sunoostripletriple (send an ask or comment if you'd like to be added to the taglist ദ്ദി(｡•̀ ,<)~✩‧₊)

[ihavenolife346]

☆♡Her, only her♡☆

Pairing: James Hetfield x f!reader

Summary: He couldn’t stand to lose her, not another person he loved, he just couldn’t.

Warnings: Slight angst, Near death experience, swearing, slight description of severe injuries, hospitals, car crash, one mention of a drunk driver, but happy ending.

People: James Hetfield, Kirk Hammett, Lars Ulrich, Jason Newsted, Bob Rock, Y/N

Side note: I’m in a mood tonight so yes, sad stuff with a happy ending.

The show was going perfect. The crowd was into it, the band was playing great, everything was going incredible.

“How about some more shit off of Ride The Lightning?!!” James yelled into the microphone, the crowd erupting with cheers.

Walking over to the side of the stage, James, Kirk, and Jason all made a guitar change. “James!” Bob came running up to the singer.

“What Bob?” James wondered, wanting to get back to the crowd.

“Listen um…” Bob started, not knowing how to tell James the news he just got. Y/N, James’s girlfriend, a girl on the complete other side of the country, had been in a really bad accident. Bob knew James would personally kill him if he waited to tell him.

“Jesus Christ Bob, I have a show to get back too. What is it?” James was getting impatient, hearing his band mates call for him.

“James…” Bob sighed. “It’s Y/N.” That was enough to get James’s full attention right now.

“What about her?” James went immediately to the worst.

“She uh…she was in a car accident a few hours ago, I just got the call from the hospital. It’s not good James.” Bob watched the singers face completely drop.

“W-what.” James didn’t think he heard Bob right.

“They’re taking her into surgery in about 10 minutes.” Bob didn’t wanna believe it either, but it was true.

That was all James needed to hear before he dropped his guitar and took off. Bob understood it, it was his girlfriend, he knew he needed to be there right now.

Jason and Kirk watched the whole thing happen. And this point, the crowd was getting impatient. “Hey man, what the fuck? Why’d James just take off running.” Jason sounded annoyed by the singers actions.

Bob didn’t want to have this conversation again, he knew he had too, “it’s Y/N…she was in an accident. It’s not good, not good at all. She’s going into surgery here in a few minutes. I just got the call.” Bob explained to the guitarist and bassist.

Both had the same reaction as James, “what?!” Kirk spoke first. He loved the girl like a sister, she was his best friend. Jason had grown quite close to her as well, she always made sure he was comfortable when he first joined the band, hung out with him when the others didn’t want too.

“He left when I told him that.” Bob added.

Kirk and Jaosn understood why he left. “Ok…um. We’ll handle the rest of the show.” Jason mumbled.

Within seconds, Jason and Kirk were over by Lars explaining the situation. “Ok!” Kirk yelled into the microphone. “So for all of you who are wondering what’s taking so long. Something personal with James came up and he had to leave in a hurry. We only had 2 songs left, and we are all terribly sorry. We hope you understand, we will release details when we feel ready too.” Kirk explained the basic details of what was going on, some boos, some ohs, and silence coming from the crowd. None of them were mad at James, they were just as worried about the girl.

_____________________

An 8 hour plane ride had never felt so long to James in his life. His mind was racing the entire trip back to San Francisco. Was Y/N ok? Was she dead? What was going on?

James didn’t care about the press right now. He needed to get to her. He’d answer questions later, he’d answer them when he knew she was ok. James had contacted Bob on the plane, he knew what hospital she was at, he was easily going over 15 on his way there. He hadn’t slept in almost a day, he didn’t care though. He needed to see her.

It didn’t even take him more than 5 minutes to get from the hospital parking lot to the floor his girl was on. “Mr.Hetfeild.” It was almost like Y/N’s doctor was just waiting for him to get there.

“Can I help you?” James was in no mood to have his time wasted right now.

“I’m your girlfriend’s doctor, Dr.Grey. If you would like to see her, I can take you to her room. She got out of surgery a few hours ago.” Dr.Grey simply explained to the singer. He could understand James’s want to see his girlfriend.

James felt like he could at least take a slight breath now, she was ok, she got out of surgery, she was ok. “Yes. Please.” James tried his best not to sound rude.

Dr.Grey nodded, “follow me.” With a small smile on his face as he turned to go to his patients room.

_____________________

There she was…tubes, monitors, everything. She was laying in the bed looking almost lifeless. It almost broke James seeing her like this. “W-what happened.” James mumbled, not being able to tear his eyes off the girl in fear that she might just die right then and there.

“She was hit by a drunk driver. We took her into surgery the second we got her in. She had a piece of glass stabbed into her right hip, a few pieces of glass around the rest of her body, three broken ribs, a dislocated wrist, and a broken shoulder. She’s a strong one, not many would survive a surgery like hers.” Dr.Grey explained the basics of what happened to her.

James couldn’t help but hold back tears. Y/N went through all that…all that while he was in New York playing a concert. “Y-yea…that’s my girl.” James choked on his words.

The doctor could tell James wanted to be alone with her. “Some nurses will be in and out checking her stats.” Dr.Grey spoke before turning to leave the room.

James didn’t even bother saying anything to him. Slowly walking over to the girl, James felt like he was gonna break her at even the slightest touch. Taking a seat in the chair next to her bed, James didn’t know what to do. Should he say something? Should he just wait for her to wake up?

Sitting there with nothing but the sound of Y/N’s heart monitor, James pulled the chair closer to her bed, taking her hand in his. “Hi baby…” James could barely bring his voice above a whisper. “Um.” James wasn’t really sure what to say. He didn’t even know if she could hear him. It broke him seeing her like this, cold and pale. “I’m sorry…” James started. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t here. I’m sorry this happened to you. You out of all people don’t deserve it… this shouldn’t have happened.” James noticed how shaky his voice was. He really didn’t know what else to say.

_____________________

He sat there in silence, watching the nurses come in and out, trying to keep back his tears until he couldn’t. At this point he didn’t even know how long he had been sitting there, all he knew was that the sun had went down at least an hour ago. “I-I can’t lose you…” James couldn’t hold back his tears. “I can lose everything…but I can’t lose you. Oh god, I can’t lose you.” James rested his head on top of her hand. “I lost Cliff not even 3 years ago…I can’t lose you. I wouldn’t be able to handle it. Please baby…please wake up. I love you, I love you so much. Please wake up…you have to wake up.” James knew he couldn’t bare to lose her. He had lost Cliff, he lost his mom…that he could bare. But losing her? No, he couldn’t. He just couldn’t.

Y/N felt the feeling in her body come back, she practically forced her eyes open. Y/N could only roll her head over to see what the weight was on her hand. She heard some of what James said. The sight made Y/N slightly smile. He came when he found out what happened, he was there, there to see her. He came from New York, just to see her. “H-“ Y/N tried to talk, her voice hardly even a whisper. “H-hi.” That was really all she could muster up to say. Everything hurt. Her body hurt, her head hurt, her throat hurt, it all hurt, even with the pain killers.

James’s head shot up almost immediately. The first thing Y/N noticed was the tear stains on his cheeks. Y/N had only seen James cry two times in his life. Once when his mom died, and another time when Cliff died. She’d never seen him cry any other times. “Baby?” James wanted to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating.

“H-hey.” Y/N spoke between coughs. “Don’t cry sweetheart.” Y/N reached up a shaky hand, using the little energy she had right now, to whip the few remaining tears from his face, ignoring the throbbing pain in her entire body. James couldn’t help but lean into her touch when her hand came to his cheek, finally realizing that she was actually awake.

“H-hi.” James had never looked more relived in his life than he did now. “Hi baby.” James kissed the palm of the girls hand, gently placing his free hand on top of hers and keeping it close to his face, his touch almost as light as a feather.

Y/N smiled the best she could, “what the hell happened…” Y/N grumbled, she didn’t really remember much of anything.

“You were in an accident baby. A really bad one.” James was relived that she woke up finally, he could take an actual breath knowing that she was officially ok.

“Fuck…” Y/N grumbled.

_____________________

It didn’t take long for the doctors to come in and find her awake, check her vitals, and determine that she would be ok for the next few hours. “Don’t you have a show to go to tonight?” Y/N coughed out.

James shook his head almost immediately, “shows are postponed till you’re home, Kirk and the guys are taking care of it.” He squeezed her hand as gently as possible in his, just mentally telling himself that she was at least awake and talking. It still hurt…it hurt seeing her so banged up, it was killing him seeing her in that hospital bed, but my god he was just happy she was awake. He just wanted to lay next to her, pull her into his arms, hold her and cradle her against him and jsut tell her it would all be ok. But he knew he couldn’t do that, he would never forgive himself if he accidentally hurt her or if she would hurt herself further just by moving.

Y/N was honestly amazed at what he just told her, even if that little voice in her head was telling her to stop feeling guilty for taking him away from his fans, she was touched at the fact that he postponed god knows how many shows just to be there, “you postponed the shows to be here…?” She almost felt like crying at what he did for her.

“Of course I did baby…I was on a plane within an hour after Bob told me. Of course I’m gonna be here with you.” James ran his thumb over her knuckles, not once breaking eye contact with her.

She was honestly touched at the fact that he already had his tour postponed. She knew just how important the tour was for the album, for the band as a whole. “Thank you…” Y/N muttered, using almost all the strength she had to finally intertwined her fingers with his. Just the fact that he was there, holding her hand, it almost made her feel better about the whole thing. He was almost that small sense of comfort that made her feel ok, he was her reminder that she had to be ok.

James didn’t dare to pick her hand up completely, just the fact that she got the strength to interlock her fingers with his was enough for him for a moment. His eyes had never left her since she woke up. He really just needed to know she was ok. He needed that reminder that she was looking right back at him, talking, breathing, that she was ok. He simply just leaned his head down, pressing a badly even noticeable kiss on her knuckles.

Y/N could just see that look in his eyes. Sure, she was the one in the hospital bed, but that didn’t stop her from worrying about him. She could tell he wasn’t ok, how much he hated seeing her like this, yet that small look of desperation in his eyes made her weakly smile. After a moment of silence, she let out a shaky breath, gently trying to tug on his hand a bit.

James glanced down at their hands when he felt the barely even noticeable tug, his eyes immediately shooting back to her, “what’s wrong baby…?” James questioned, his mind immediately thinking she was trying to get his attention cause she was in more pain.

“C’mere…” Y/N mumbled, not managing to get her voice above a whisper, looking back at him with that same hint of desperation in her eyes that he was looking at her with, when she realized how much she actually wanted to be held right now.

James kinda froze for a minute, practically screaming at himself to just give into his own wants and give her what she wanted, but part of him couldn’t bring himself to say yes out of fear that he’d hurt her, “I can’t sweet girl…” James spoke as gentle as he could, trying to hide the pain in his voice. “I can’t accidentally hurt you…”

She let out a huff, shaking her head ever so slightly, “you won’t…j-just-please…?” She muttered, doing what she could and gently tugging on his hand again. She didn’t care if he did by chance hurt her, she knew he wouldn’t mean to, and she just needed to feel him closer to her.

He couldn’t deny it. The way she was looking at him with that pained yet wanting look, he couldn’t say no to her. He thought about it for a second before he gently let go of her hand and got up from the chair he was sitting in, observing over her carefully. “Can I move you a bit baby…?” James asked gently.

As much as she didn’t want to move at all, she wanted to be close to him just a bit more. “Y-yea…” she muttered, nodding ever so slightly.

James was as careful as humanly possibly once she nodded, carefully slipping his arm under her knee and his other arm under her back, moving her over just a tad bit so he could properly at least sit next to her.

She bit down harshly on her lip when he moved her just a bit, trying to ignore the pain that shot through her, just constantly telling herself she’d at least be closer to him. “I am so sorry…” James repeated a few times before he got her moved over jsut enough to at least sit next to her. Within seconds, James was as quick but gentle as he could be when he climbed into the uncomfortable bed next to her, letting his back rest against the few pillows she had and gently wrapping an arm around her shoulders to try and get her to lean against him a bit.

She couldn’t help but let out a few pained groans when he moved her, managing to get her body to move just a bit so she at least had her head on his shoulder, a breath she didn’t even know she was holding left her lips the second she felt his arm wrap around her. Right now, he was her main source of comfort, he was her reason for knowing she’d be ok, he was the one thing making her feel better about the situation.

James leaned his cheek against her head when she managed to move so she was against his side and had her head on his shoulder, just holding her gently against his side, pressing a very feather like kisses to the top of her head, “I love you…so much…” James spoke in a soft murmur after a few moments, still being as gentle as he could be with her but having a decent grip on her as well.

“I love you too…” she muttered back, actually managing to get herself to relax even just a bit, focusing completely on him instead of the pain she felt all throughout her body, finally taking a breather when he kissed her head. He always made her feel safe, and right now that was what she desperately needed. Having his arm around her, feeling him close to her, she knew he was her reason that she had to be ok. Even with how everything hurt, she knew she had to be ok for him, and she knew she would be.

[shoujo-wizard]

@lexirosewrites srry if this is too late for u to queue up i was writing it out to a place where i wanted/needed to stop it. this was intended as an ask but then i got too into it & filled it with detail after detail so the majority of it is below the read more

Thinking thoughts abt Steve's canon music taste bc I saw/reblogged a post abt how Steve is shown to listen to alternative rock & punk rather than pop & disco like we all characterize him.

This started as a steddie thing & has morphed into an a/b/o O!Max centric blurb with an elumax agenda, everything is below the cut

world building: in all of my omegaverse AU omegas can give mating bites, and betas also have mating glands they’re just noticeably smaller. also, omegas are able to be reliably identified at birth because they have a noticeably sweeter scent than other babies, once puberty starts omegas no matter their primary gender will get periods, female omegas get a period every month while male omegas get a period every other month. it is my personal headcanon tht betas evolved to assist in various biological needs tht the other designations might need i.e. if a beta is caring for an omega during their heat they’ll start giving off vaguely alpha pheromones/scents & male betas will be able to give their omega partner a smaller knot OR if a an alpha is in rut their beta partner gives off an omegas pheromones/scent while they also begin to produce a moderate amount of slick OR if they are in a throuple with an alpha & an omega they’ll maintain their natural scent during either partners cycle & fulfill the social role of caring for needs like feeding their partners, maintaining the structure of the nest, helping their partners remember to take any medication they take daily

So first picture for me: punk band frontman O!Steve, he & the other omegas in the band have those spiked collars tht look actually dangerous tht they wear as a rebellion against the expectation tht omegas should wear collars in public, he takes birth control but personally doesn't take heat blockers bc he sees it as another way society seeks to police omega autonomy, he semi-regularly throws his shirt off into the crowd during shows (omega nipples r treated like women's nipples in this AU, very scandalous), Steve has an intentionally messy mullet he cut himself & Robin helped dye dark pink, he's imitated jacking off on stage & used fake blood once or twice to make it look like he was jerking it while on his period & ofc he’s done this stunt while on his period a few times too, & he has the nail bat tht he uses to smash already broken equipment tht they fish out of various recycling centers. He's got multiple piercings & several tattoos, he'd get a neck tattoo but the most traditional thing abt him is he wants to mate someone he loves, have pups & a neck tattoo messes up anyone's mating gland. 

the majority of his band r also omegas, he's the vocals mostly but he's known to throw on a guitar & step back so the bass player (robin) can step forward for songs they created/rehearsed just for her to perform, he's also done a number of wicked guitar solos, they figure out how to record & burn CDs on their own bc they're thumbing their noses at the industry tht wants to box omegas into bubblegum pop also bc they don't think they'll ever get a record deal.

The band is named Cannibal Impulse, playing around various venues in Chicago. Steve is vocals/2nd guitar, O!Robin is bass, A!Nancy is lead guitar, O!Jonathan is drums, and B!Argyle is part of a throuple with Nancy & Jonathan so he happily acts as a groupie/roadie/pizza bringer. They have a fairly loyal following of local punk enjoyers, especially omegas. For shows Steve & his band mostly wear whatever punk aesthetic they like, steve & robin both tend towards glam punk, Nancy favors a ragged style inspired by 1920s mens fashion, Jonathan likes subdued crust punk, Argyle wears stoner fashion but for their shows he puts on the battle vest Jonathan made him over his typical fashion choices.

Here’s the actual ficlet/set up/idea, idk what the time period is for this exactly, probably a vague late 90s because I want ppl to have cellphones, specifically flip phones. Also warning for implied underage drug (weed) use.

A!Eddie is the frontman to world famous Corroded Coffin & the co-parent to O!Max (he's 33 & was 18 when she was born) she's the result of a rut shared w sugary sweet head banging mosh pit queen B!Chrissy, Max is the best part of his world even if she's entered the stage of teen hood where she's angry at the world & sometimes her parents. He's had to move around once or twice bc his career demanded it, but now they have all settled permanently in Chicago bc the band have put together a music label all their own, Rotten & Revived Records. 

Chrissy used to live permanently in San Francisco, working as a paralegal, but when she got an amazing job opportunity in Chicago the family had a very long talk tht included the rest of the band & everyone ended up deciding tht basing everything in Chicago seemed like the right move. The band enjoyed every concert they'd performed in the city, Max had been once or twice so she agreed it wasn't the worst place in the world plus she wanted to b near both of her parents, & Chrissy would live in a two bedroom apartment that’s a bus ride away from the home Eddie bought for himself & Max.

O!Max (full name: Max Riot Cunningson) is 15 almost 16 & she's had a number of heats & gets her period on a schedule tht is still adjusting as her body changes & ofc her mom Chrissy helped her get birth control. 

Eddie has to go on tour as the summer kicks off after everyone barely settles into their new homes in Chicago, Max decides to spend the summer in Chicago after going to a few shows of the tour, staying with Chrissy most nights but also in the house Eddie owns as a means to feel independent from time to time. She wanders around most of the summer, seeing museums, eating whatever she wants when Chrissy isn’t looking, and going into a bookstore or music shop every so often. She finds herself in a music store tht had an impressive collection of vinyls & CDs, then she sees the poster for a small concert for some local band happening in the basement of the store, it says 18+ but when she asks the omega cashier (Jonathan) he explains tht no one checks ID as long as you bring the cover charge of $5 & don’t very obviously look like a kid. There’s no alcohol allowed anyway which is why it’s advertised as 18+. Max practically skips out of the store, a new CD and the address/date of the concert on a note paper in her tote bag. The concert is on a night Chrissy agreed she could be at Eddie’s alone. She feels free as a bird. 

Night of the concert she eats mac and cheese she made herself for dinner, and begins picking out what to wear. Max is an omega so she’s expected to wear a collar in public which she hates but there’s any number of creeps in the world. She decides on a black collar she got for her birthday the year before. Luckily when your dad is a world famous metal musician you have an endless choice of black as well as any rainbow of color one could want. She chooses to wear a dark purple t-shirt, her custom leather jacket Eddie paid for, her barely decorated faded red battle vest, black jeans ripped at the knees. Max lines her eyes with a color called kohl, and shoves her feet into the work boots her Grandpa Wayne had helped her pick out. Then she’s off through the nighttime to the basement of the music shop.

The basement is lit fairly well, there r seats all along the walls for ppl to take as they need, there’s a few coolers of water bottles guarded by a weasel esque man dressed like a lazy novelist in a zombie apocalypse, a small table of a meager amount of merch, a raised stage tht is set up for the band, the people around her seem to all know each other, a few people glance her way but no one acts as if she shouldn’t be there. 

there’s a circle of ppl tht are very openly smoking weed near/behind the merch table, she recognizes the cashier from the other day in the smoking circle so she approaches because he’s the one person she recognizes in a new environment. Jonathan is welcoming & introduces her to the entire circle of people: Nancy his girlfriend, their merch monitor Argyle his boyfriend, their assistant merch helper B!Eleven (who’s the only one not smoking), he explains tht Eleven’s dad & his step-dad is Hopper the burly man at the door, tht the man at the coolers is the shop/building owner Murray, and his friends Robin and Steve are tangled up in a way tht makes it hard to tell who was sitting on whose lap. She introduces herself as Max Riot & everyone cheers her for her badass name. Eleven eagerly gives her a fistbump telling her tht her name & her look is bitchin’. Max compliments everyone because they’re dressed in a way she never knew punks would dress. Each person is in a slightly different aesthetic but the eclectic look of the group works. Steve explains they all enjoy different flavors of punk fashion.

When she notices the spiked collars practically everyone in the room is wearing she can’t stop from commenting abt wanting one for herself. Robin crows tht she has to go to a specific thrifted clothing store tht has a display from a leatherworker who loves making the kind of collars everyone is wearing. When Max looks uncertain Eleven offers to meet up & go with her because she needs some new shirts to cut up, tht her boyfriend Lucas might also join them because he needs a new jacket to wear under his battle vest. When Max asks if Lucas is coming to the show Eleven says he’ll likely get there shortly after the show starts because he has to finish dinner with his family & bribe his little sister with the newest fear street book before he can pretend he’s going to her house to sleep over & play video games for the next 2 days. Eleven & Max realize they’re going to the same high school & Eleven eagerly invites her to eat lunch with her, Lucas, & their friends. 

Max is so absorbed in her borderline flirty conversation with El tht she’s surprised to hear the noise of drums crashing out a beat on the stage, turning around as she gawks to find the people she’d been chatting with are the band performing. Then she's lost to the music, throwing herself around the edges of the pit, jumping to the overwhelming energy of the music, yelling out the anger she's felt since fully presenting, sweating away her eyeliner, stumbling to get water, & then ending up at the front as the band crashes through their finale with Steve ripping off his shirt to throw into the crowd showing off his tattoos & pierced nipples before pulling out a nail ridden baseball bat tht he uses to smash apart an old stereo she hadn't noticed. It's electric, it's exhilarating, it's pumping adrenaline straight to her heart. The crowd calms as best a punk crowd can as they begin filing out of the basement after an encore tht features Robin at the mic singing an anti-war song from the 70s. The little concert/show was nearly two hours after all & it’s getting so late it’s almost early morning.

The band steps down from the stage as the crowd dwindles, Jonathan asks Max if she's able to join them for some food at a nearby diner & she agrees right away. She's told to just wait by the merch table with El & Lucas as they put away their instruments. Indeed a black boy is sitting behind the merch table with El in his lap. El eagerly greets her, getting up & hugging her, then happily introduces her boyfriend A!Lucas. A CD of the latest from Cannibal Impulse is pressed into her hands free of charge by Lucas while El sticks a pin badge of the band's logo onto her vest. Thus begins Max's whirlwind final month of summer vacation learning abt punk, filling her music collection w previous Cannibal Impulse CDs & other punk bands she ends up liking (both local & famous) through everyone's efforts to help her learn, investing in a new wardrobe, decorating her battle vest, & attending every show Cannibal Impulse plays tht isn't in a bar (which turns out to b the majority of them)

Chrissy is more than supportive, laughing as she thinks abt Eddie “metal is king” Munson’s reaction.

Imagine Eddie's surprise (despair) to come home from a tour shortly before school starts to his daughter blasting punk music, dressing like a punk with notably new piercings he knows Chrissy had to sign off on, loudly going out on weekends to punk shows, & coming home at all hours smelling of weed & sometimes high. He can't complain exactly, he was smoking weed at an earlier age than her, staying out at all hours, blasting metal, taking impromptu trips w his band out to the city to watch some metal concert or other. At least she calls him to let him know she got to the venue safely & to give an estimate of when she'll b home. At least she doesn't seem to have any tattoos yet.

Eventually Eddie wants to go with Max to one of these shows. Mostly because he wants to understand his daughter as she’s growing up without them growing apart, and because the band's newly established label has hit a bit of a wall when recruiting new talent. They have a number of metal artists on their label, some rock, and even a couple of bubblegum pop artists. But they feel like their catalog isn’t as well rounded as it could be. So Eddie asks to go with her, and she tells him she has to think abt it & warn her friends because none of them know her dad is world famous Eddie Munson, The Freak King of Corroded Coffin. This makes Eddie sad tht his daughter is basically hiding him from her new friends & mentors but Chrissy knocks him upside the head telling him tht she’s had less than genuine friendships before now due to her dad being a world famous musician.

When Max brings it up after a show that weekend they’re all sitting in their favorite diner digging into greasy delicious food they don’t believe her at first, but then El tells them she isn’t lying despite only have met Chrissy (El has an uncanny knack for knowing when someone is lying) so it turns to disbelief tht Metal King Munson wants to go to a punk show of his own free will. The tension between metalheads & punks is well documented after all. But all in all they agree because Max is one of them, Steve has all but adopted her, Lucas & El have tentatively begun to court her, Jonathan has been teaching her drums, Robin has donated some of her more glam articles of clothing to the cause tht is Max’s continued education in the punk scene, Nancy has helped her (as well as El & Lucas) with their homework, & Argyle makes sure that when she does occasionally join them in smoking weed she’s safe & not getting overwhelmed. So they agree tht Eddie should feel more than free to come to their upcoming show in the basement of Murray’s shop/building & they reassure Max they’re not looking for any kind of record deal.

The night of the show comes quickly & Max sheepishly brings Eddie along. Hopper’s eyes bug out of his head when he notices Eddie behind Max after greeting Max with the handshake he shares with El & Lucas. The basement becomes controlled pandemonium when people process/notice tht Eddie Munson is there in the flesh. No one approaches him for autographs & when they see he’s there with Max they leave him alone in favor of greeting Max because everyone’s gotten to know her by now especially since Cannibal Impulse took her under their wing. Eddie follows Max, feeling out of place for the first time in a long time, to the merch table where all of her closest scene friends are gathered. They’re courteous to Eddie since he’s Max’s dad, and Steve gives him a wave from where he’s a tangle of platonic limbs with Robin. Eddie takes a moment to come back to himself after staring at Steve who’s the most striking omega he’s ever seen. He ends up striking up a conversation with Lucas & El when they reveal they’re the pair that’s been courting Max since school started. Then before he knows it a guitar is wailing from the stage & he gives his attention to the show. Cannibal Impulse put on an electric show. Robin starts them out with another anti-war song this time from the 60s tht they repurposed for the punk genre. Then Steve steps up to the mic & it’s like the crowd comes to life even further. A mosh pit explodes in the room, he’s briefly concerned when Max & Lucas jump right into the center of the pit, but soon he’s absorbed with the performance the band is putting on. When the finale comes Steve’s already ripped his shirt off & as Nancy & Jonathan play a screaming duet with their instruments Steve is smashing apart a piece of equipment tht they got from their favorite recycling center with his nail bat.

[matty-bear]

Concert Fright [C.S]

type: fic !

pairing: drummer!chris sturniolo x fem!little!reader

warnings: sfw, fluffy, age regression

summary: you and your friend liv manage to bag tickets for your favorite band ! who knew it would take a sudden overwhelming turn and the two of you would end up backstage ? 

notes: submission for Bratzfornick141 writing contest ! (which is hosted by @bratzforchris and @nicksbestie !) <story elements selected: fluff, age regression, band member x fan, and concert> first age regression related fic i'm so excited ^^ hope u enjoy ! happy reading <33

WC: 4.7K

｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆

｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆

The loud chatter of people ran through your ears as your friend, Liv, pulled you down the aisle and to the barricade. You could faintly make out an artist playing on the speakers in the small venue however you couldn’t quite make out who it was exactly due to all the commotion around you. With a soft exhale, you grasp the black railing and look over at the brunette next to you with a large smile. 

“Okay, but you have to admit I bagged such good tickets,” Liv says as she turns on her heels, an equally large smile plastered on her lips as she looks over at you. 

A few weeks ago, you and Liv’s favorite band announced that they would be going on tour. Considering how huge fans the two of you were of them, you both immediately decided on going. After ensuring that they were going to come to your area, Liv immediately made a plan for how to get tickets. The female took it upon herself to get in the traumatizing queue of Ticketmaster and sat in front of her desk for around an hour in hopes of bagging tickets. 

Luckily, she managed to get two front-row tickets and didn’t hesitate to call you the moment she got the confirmation email. Since then, you guys began to plan out concert outfits (you guys obviously got matching outfits) and counted down the days till the band came to your area. 

And that brings us to now. 

“These are amazing seats, props to you for fighting all the fangirls.” You praise the female with a small pat on her shoulder. Liv simply chuckles softly at the touch and quickly digs her hand into the pocket of her pants. After pulling her phone out, she taps her screens softly and turns the device so it faces you. 

“Two more minutes!” Liv lets out a small squeal of excitement and takes her free hand to grab your shoulder and shake your body back and forth. A small stream of giggles falls from your lips as you rock back and forth on your heels a few times before the brunette finally lets you go. “You think Matt will notice me? I mean I will be right in front of him.” 

“I’m one hundred percent sure that he will fall in love with you the second he comes on stage. Kid will get so dazed that they're gonna have to call for a break.” 

“Awh wait, I don't want them to have to stop mid-concert.” Liv frowns faintly with a soft huff. You shrug your shoulders and turn your head to allow your eyes to land on the stage in front of you. Your gaze wanders to the instruments towards the back for a moment, allowing your brain to get a better sense of your surroundings. You can faintly make out two of Matt’s guitars on a light brown rack tucked in the corner, the light blue one being attached to the amp a little closer to the ramp near the side of the stage. 

Next to the rack was Chris’ orange drum set, the set the male has had since the beginning of the band’s career. The boy never went a day, from what you know, without using his orange drum set. You vividly remember him saying in a video that he’s grown very attached to the said set and would never get rid of it, even if the wrap is scratched and beaten to the core. It simply holds too many memories. As you stare at the bass, you feel your insides start to churn, half out of nervousness and half out of excitement. 

You were very fond of Chris, him being your favorite member of the band. You felt as though the two of you had a lot of things in common and that’s why you were so drawn to him. Yes, the boy was very attractive but his personality was what took the cake for you. He knew when it was time to mess around and when it was time to get to work and you respected him a lot for it. In the middle of your daze, the lights suddenly dim, and the speakers get rid of the music sounding from them. 

Immediately, the sound of high-pitched screaming runs through your ears. You freeze on the spot, a million feelings running through your veins all at once. At first, the feeling was a little overwhelming, however when you felt Liv’s hand gently grasp your hand, you felt more at ease. As you glance over at the female next to you, the sight of her excited expression brings you pure happiness. You watch her quickly take her phone out and open her camera before you face the stage again. 

The second you do so, the band begins to take the stage. Your jaw drops slightly as you watch the boys take their places in front of their instruments or Nick’s case, take his mic, and set it on the stand. You find yourself staring at Chris, your breath getting caught in your throat as you watch him take a seat behind his drums. A large smile can be seen on his lips as he bends down slightly to slip two sticks out from his bag. 

As he begins to twirl one in between his fingers, his free hand raises to adjust his in-ear. The boy finally lifts his head after a few moments and the two of you immediately lock eyes. You feel your face heat up when the brunette sends you a small wave, his smile somehow growing even wider. You send a small wave back before averting your gaze over to Nick who’s standing directly in front of you. 

Holy fuck he waved at me. 

Your heart was going at a million miles per hour at this point. You just made rather long eye contact with your favorite member not even a minute into their set. Your limbs were beginning to feel like jelly but you kept your strong hold of the barrier to keep yourself steady. As you kept your gaze focused on Nick, a certain boy behind him kept his eyes trained on you. 

“Hey guys!” Nick greets into the mic, his voice booming through the speakers and filling the venue. The crowd immediately begins to scream loudly at the boy's simple greeting. “It’s great to finally be here! You all look lovely tonight, I swear we have one of the best-dressed fanbases. Wouldn’t you agree, Matt?” 

The blonde turns his head slightly to look over at the mentioned brunette who rips his focus away from the guitar in his hands. Matt takes a moment to look out to the crowd, his eyes scanning over a few fans before he nods his head with a small smile. 

“Well, I'm sure you guys have been waiting for long enough. How about we jump right in, yes?” Nick asks as he focuses his attention back to the crowd ahead of him. In response, everyone begins screaming again. Nick lightly chuckles in response, his mic barely picking up the sound. 

The boy turns his body slightly to look back at Chris and gives him a small nod. The brunette nods firmly in response and you can faintly make out his chest rise and fall softly before he begins to play. You immediately recognize the song by the first few beats and a small scream escapes your lips as a result. 

“It’s your song, girl!” Liv exclaims as she clamps a hand on your shoulder. You nod your head rapidly in response, your eyes shifting from Chris to Nick again as he begins to sing the first verse.  You immediately allow yourself to get absorbed in the band’s set as their music spills from the speakers. The boys started with some of their slower songs and eventually transitioned to their upbeat ones, which caused the crowd to lose their shit. (that includes you and Liv) 

As they were a few songs in, you felt yourself start to get a little overwhelmed. The girl behind you was starting to throw your senses off with her non-stop screaming in your ear. It seemed as though she had no off button during the band’s set. While you’re all for enjoying a concert and allowing yourself to be free during sets, you strongly dislike when people are nonstop screaming and aren’t being considerate of the people around them. 

On top of the girls screaming, the music was starting to get a little too loud for your liking. Usually, you wouldn’t mind this however your feelings were getting thrown about like a rag doll and you felt super out of wack. Due to how overwhelming you were starting to become, you were starting to feel a little small. As your chest was starting to tighten and you felt yourself about to slip into your headspace, you looked over at Liv. 

You hesitated getting the female’s attention since she seemed to be enjoying herself but you needed to get out of the crowd and God knew you couldn’t do it by yourself. People were constantly shoving each other, trying to get closer to the front, and as a result, you got shoved against the barricade, your ribs and legs smashing against the cold, hard metal.

After a long moment of hesitation, you grab Liv’s arm and shake her gently. It took a few good tugs for the female to finally turn to look over at you but when she did, a concerned expression flashed on her face as she looks at you. 

“What’s wrong?” The female asks, her free hand immediately grasping your wrist. You let out a small whine and shake your head in response. You were fighting for your life to be big at this point and as a result, you couldn’t bring yourself to verbally respond to the girl. Liv takes a moment to study your features until it finally clicks.

She goes to open her mouth to say something however at the sound of two girls screaming bloody murder behind you, you immediately crouch down. One hand immediately shoots to cover your ear as the other firmly gasps one of the bars on the barricade, a small whimper escaping your lips as your eyes squeeze shut. 

“Hey, hey, hey.” Liv says, her voice barely audible over the intense amount of screaming around the two of you. “y/n you need to get up. You’re gonna get trampled if you stay down there.” After not gaining a bodily response from you, Liv huffs and bends down slightly to grab you from beneath your arms. 

With one strong pull, she lifts you to her feet and allows you to crash against her chest. When your soft whimpers and cries fill her ears, Liv sighs softly and rubs her hand against your back. As she begins to look at the crowd behind her, the dials in her brain begin to turn as she attempts to figure out how to get to a secluded area. Little did the female know, a certain band member had been intently watching the two females the moment the situation went down. 

As Chris finishes his part of the song, he stops and allows his arms to drop to his lap, the tip of his sticks lightly grazing the hoop of his snare. As he takes one more worried glance at you, he finally lets his eyes shift over to Matt, who has now begun to walk to the front of the stage to play his guitar solo. Chris lets out a rather impatient huff and looks over at Nick, who’s reaching down to grab someone’s phone, not paying attention to anyone but the person in front of him. 

No one’s paying attention. Shit. 

As the brunette continues to keep the steady beat of the song through the usage of his bass, he eyes Matt and waits for the male to be done with his solo. When the boy strums the final chord and begins backing up, Chris finally decides to grab his attention. 

“Matt!” The boy whisper-shouts. After not gaining a reply, he yells again, this time a little louder. “Matt!”

The guitar player finally turns his head, his eyes immediately locking with Chris’ worried ones. “What’s up?” Matt mouths. 

Chris lifts a single stick and points toward you and Liv’s direction. “Get security and tell them to escort those two to the back.” 

“The back?” 

Chris rolls his eyes at the hesitant look Matt gives him. “Yes, the back! Hurry the fuck up!” 

Matt huffs and turns back around, his eyes immediately getting to work on finding security. The moment his gaze falls on a bright yellow vest near the center of the stage, he quickly hurries over to them. When his turn to play comes up, his fingers begin to dance around the fret of his guitar. Due to both of his hands being busy, he crouches down as close as he can to the security and calls for them. At the sight of the brunette struggling to get the security’s attention, the fans in front of him assist the male by also shouting.

When the security finally turns back to face Matt, the latter quickly turns his head towards where you and Liv are. “Get those two girls to the back, please. Chris’ order.” The male states as he swiftly stands back up. 

“Who?” The security asks, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion as he looks up at the brunette. 

“Front row, right in front of Nick. They’re wearing matching outfits and one of them has the other held against her chest. Hurry please.” The security quickly nods and hurries over to where you and Liv are. When his eyes land on the two of you, he quickly shouts for you both. 

“Hey, I'm taking you two to the back. Come with me please.” The male informs Liv after locking eyes with her. The female faintly nods and gently pushes your shoulders so she can see your face. 

“Hey, they’re gonna take us to the back. Come on.” Liv says, her left hand gently running up and down your arm in a comforting manner. “Are you big or did you slip?” After you send the female a blank stare with a small pout, Liv sighs gently. “Come on, hun. I’ll help you get over the barricade.” 

Liv carefully sets both her hands on your hips and on the count of three, she helps you get over the barricade. The moment your legs swing over the top railing, the security member grabs onto your arms and helps set you down. The male doesn’t have time to check on you and get back to Liv before the female leaps over the railing. She lands on the hard floor with a hollow thump and takes a moment to dust herself off and adjust her skirt before gently grabbing both of your wrists. 

“Come on you two.” The security says. With a single wave of the hand, the male begins walking to the back, you and Liv following close behind him. The entire walk to the back, the female held you as close as she could, a single arm being kept around your waist. After a while, the loud beats and screams of the crown died down, ultimately lowering your uneasiness. Nonetheless, you were still frightened and tightly clutched onto Liv’s blouse for support. 

“I’m gonna let you guys in this room for the time being. If you need anything, call one of the staff members. There’s already plenty of snacks and beverages in there so help yourselves.” The security says as he begins to unlock a door. After opening it and pushing it wide open, Liv bids the male a soft thank you before guiding you inside. The moment the door shuts behind the two of you, the female lets out a small sigh of relief and pulls you to the sofa. As you plop down on one of the cushions, you gaze over at Liv with a pout. 

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” The female asks as she sets a gentle hand on your kneecap. At the sight of you rubbing your stomach, Liv nods her head and gets up from the sofa. She takes a glance around the small room and the moment her eyes land on a large tray on the nearby dresser, her eyes light up. She quickly makes her way over to the tray and examines the snack selection for a moment. 

Nuts, health bars, crackers…

When her gaze lands on the stack of fruit snacks and chocolate chip cookies, Liv immediately grabs two packages of each snack with a small smile. She turns on her heels when they’re in her grasp and makes her way over to you. The moment she takes a seat next to you, she sets the packages on your lap. 

“Which one would you like, hun?” Liv asks gently. You force your lips together as you stare down at the snacks. After a moment of ‘pondering,’ you snatch up a pack of the fruit gummies and set them on Liv’s thigh. “Great choice! These are so yummy.” The female picks up the small pack and opens it with one small tug. “Here you go!” 

When she hands you the pack, a large smile appears on your lips, your eyes crinkling slightly. You gently slip the pack off the girl’s hand and stuff your fingers into the small opening. As you silently indulge in your sweet treat, Liv leans back against the back of the sofa and takes her phone out to keep herself busy. 

-One hour later- 

“Yeah, they’re in here.” 

“Alright, thank you so much.” 

At the sound of muffled voices coming from the other side of the door, Liv immediately lifts her head. The moment she turns to look over at the shut door, it opens slowly with a small creeeeak.

The female’s eyes widen in pure shock when Nick pops his head inside the room, a worried expression plastered on his face. When the blonde notices that the girl already has her eyes trained on him, he smiles softly. “Hey, girl! Is it okay if we come in?” Nick asks gently. 

Liv’s mind sputters for a moment, all of her words seeming to be caught in the back of her throat. She takes one glance down at you, who’s settled in her lap and is intently staring at her phone which is playing My Little Pony before she looks back over at Nick. 

“You can come in,” Liv replies, silently cursing herself at the way her voice cracked slightly. Nick sends the female a small smile before he stands upright and gently pushes the door open. He turns around for a moment and waves his hand before walking inside the room. At the sight of Matt and Chris entering shortly after him, Liv’s jaw drops and she quickly clamps a hand over her mouth. 

“Are you two doing alright? Chris told me to get security and have them bring y'all back here.” Matt asks as he gently shuts the door with a soft click. 

“Yeah, we’re fine now. My friend here just had a little episode.” Liv replies with a small head nod. 

“She get too overwhelmed in the crowd? I saw everyone pushing each other and it looked horrible for the people in the front. I tried to get people to calm down but you can only do so much, you know?” Nick asks, a small frown overtaking his features. 

“Yeah, she did. She's usually able to handle concert settings but the crowd today just didn’t sit right with her.” As Nick and Matt gently nod their heads, Chris hesitantly takes a step forward. When he’s able to get a better view of your face, a small smile creeps up onto his lips when he sees you already peering up at him with slightly wide eyes. 

“Hey, kid.” The brunette greets. As you hide your now flushed face behind Liv’s phone, the boy chuckles softly. When his eyes shift over to the open pack of fruit snacks that is discarded near your leg, he carefully picks it up. “You like fruit snacks too?” 

You slowly lower the phone to peer up at Chris before you nod your head. “They’re yummy aren’t they?” 

As the brunette continues to converse with you, Nick and Matt exchange confused looks. “Chris, what the hell are you doing?” 

At Nick’s sudden question, Chris cuts himself off and quickly turns his head to look back at the blonde. After taking a moment to take in the elder's warning look, he replies, “Making her more comfortable. She's a little, right?” 

At the boy’s straightforward question, Liv’s jaw drops. The female shuffles back a little in her spot before eyeing the boy closely and hesitantly replying, “Yeah… How did you figure that out?” 

“I have a friend who’s a little so I kinda have a gist of how they act and such.” Liv hums slowly and intently watches as Chris shifts his focus back to you. “How old are you, angel?” 

You look down at your free hand and stare down at your fingers before holding up three of them and shoving them out in front of you. “Three? You’re very well-behaved for a three-year-old!”

You flash the male a large toothy grin as you force yourself up into a sitting position, both of your hands dropping down onto your lap with a soft plop. You look down at your hands for a moment, getting caught up in gazing at your pastel pink nails before your eyes snap over to Liv's phone which is still open and playing the cartoon you were watching moments ago. In one swift movement, you grab the device and show the screen to Chris. The male jumps slightly at your sudden move however his eyes soften as he watches AppleJack and Rainbow Dash converse on the screen.  

“Woah, I love My Little Pony! Who’s your favorite pony?” The brunette exclaims with a wide smile. You set the phone down on your lap to point at one of your pink nails. “Pinkie?” You rapidly nod your head with a small giggle, your legs kicking out in front of you subconsciously. “She’s a silly one isn’t she?” 

You nod once more and point at Chris, your action causing a confused expression to paint his face. After a moment, what you’re trying to say finally clicks in the boy's head. “My favorite pony is Rainbow! She’s so cool and fast. I would say she’s super cool but I'd be calling Matt super cool and I don't wanna gas him up like that. You know, considering how she plays the guitar in the human world and Matt also plays guitar.”

At the male's statement, Matt narrows his eyes and shoves Chris’s shoulder. You watch the latter stumble a little from the sudden hit with a small giggle. “Did I say something wrong?” Chris asks, a fake hurtful expression flashing across his features as he looks back at the male next to him. 

“Yeah. Watch your mouth.” Matt grumbles in response, his eyes rolling as he turns on his heels and makes his way to the mini fridge in the corner of the room. When the boy is out of earshot, Chris walks up to you and bends down so you’re at eye level. 

“He’s all bark, no bite.” The boy whispers to you, his statement earning yet another giggle from you. 

At the sudden sound of three hollow knocks, the five of you all turn around to face the open door. Your eyebrows furrow in pure confusion when your eyes land on a female leaning against the doorway, both her arms crossed over her chest. “We need to get to the hotel. What are you three doing?” The female asks, a single eyebrow raising as she eyes the band. 

“We’re just checking up on our friends, Laura. They had a little incident during the set and we just wanted to make sure they were alright.” Nick replies with a soft sigh. 

Laura shifts her gaze over to look at you and Liv, her eyes narrowing as she eyes you both. “Oh. Well, they seem fine so let’s go. I seriously don’t want to deal with the receptionist today because we showed up late.” 

“We’ll be there in a minute, Laura. Go wait in the bus.” Matt dismisses the female with a wave of his hand, his eyes staying fixed on the can of Root Beer in his hand. Laura huffs and turns on her heels before walking off. When her footsteps fade, Chris turns around and puts his focus back on you. 

“So, where were we?” The boy asks you with a small smile. You quickly grab Liv’s phone once more and show the brunette the screen again. “Ah, yes! Did you know that Nick’s favorite pony is Rarity? Pretty fitting, huh?” 

“Alright, kid. There’s no need to out me like this.” Nick mumbles as he stuffs his hands in the pocket of his pants. “I think we should wrap things up before Laura starts dragging us to the bus.” 

At the blonde’s suggestion, Chris pouts and looks back at the older male with a pleading expression. “Exchange numbers or something if you want. We need to go kid, come on.” Matt says as he crushes the empty can in his hand. 

Chris sighs softly and looks over at Liv, his pout not faltering as he gazes up at the female. “Can I have her number, please?” 

“Yeah, of course! y/n would be pissed if I said no.” Liv replies with a small chuckle. 

y/n…

“Am I her favorite or something?”. 

“God, yes. She won’t shut the hell up about you sometimes. I swear if I bring up one thing that’s somehow related to you, she would immediately go on a tangent about you. I’ve learned to tread carefully when I say stuff yet she still manages to yap about you.��� 

At the female’s statement, Chris looks over at you with a wide, cheeky smile. “How cute are you!” The brunette exclaims. The boy lands a few playful pokes on your side, the small touch drawing small squeals from you. 

After being rushed by Matt, Chris finally gets your number in his phone. The three boys quickly bid you and Liv farewell however before they leave, you quickly get up from your spot on the sofa and rush over to Chris. The brunette looks down at your shy expression and smiles warmly before engulfing you a hug. With a small pat on the head, the boy pulls away from the warm embrace and ruffles your hair before leaving the room. 

“You're whipped aren’t you?” Nick asks the moment the three of them are out of earshot from you and Liv. 

“What? No.” Chris replies with a firm shake of the head. 

“Sure, kid. Sure.” Matt says as he lands a single hand on the younger’s shoulder. Chris looks over at the male and takes in his teasing smile before rolling his eyes. 

The boy was most definitely wrapped around your finger but was he going to come to terms with it? Absolutely not. Well… not right now that is. 

·:¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨:· TagList ! ·:¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨:·

@freshloveforthefit @thenickgirl @patscorner @frankdelreyy @sturnsann @kileybankzz @robins-scoop @miloisdone1 @rootbeerworshiper @rubyperic-09 @teenagetrash00 @maryx2xx @junniiieee07

click here if you’d like to be added to the list !

[heartofwritiing]

Kiss me (beneath the milky twilight)

paring: musicanbur x fem!reader

summary: you're the backup singer for lovejoy, the fans don’t know you and wilbur are together, but one duet changes that.

authors note: trying to practice dialogue, so sorry if it is a little wired and doesn’t make sense idk how to write good conversation lmao, also i thought this idea was cute hope you guys like it :)

warnings: short, a make-out on stage, fluff, unedited!

“Okay, someone ate the last poptart this morning on the bus, fess up, who was it?”

Mark, who was twirling his drum stick a few times questioned amongst the group as you and the rest of lovejoy stood in a circle backstage minus Wilbur; who was still asleep in his dressing room. Pre-show naps were a ritual for him now.

Being on tour was an experience to say the least. You never thought you’d be sharing a small space with four grown men, but here you were living on a tour bus for the next four months with them. Most days it wasn’t complete chaos, you all had your respective bunks and areas but a lot of times you thought you’d somehow died and were sent to purgatory until whoever decided to send you to actual hell.

“I don’t know but I have a stash in the bus so I know it’s not me,” you raise your hands up in innocence.

“Why do you get your own secret stash?” Mark frowns.

Wilbur liked to spoil you with snacks to hide around the bus so the other boys wouldn’t find them just to tease them, All in good fun of course.

“Perks of being the lead singer’s girlfriend,” you smirk with your chin held high.

“Im convinced now that you’re the pop tart thief,” Joe added, thumb and pointer finger fiddling with the tuning pegs on his guitar while standing off to the side. “I know all the little hiding spots on the bus and I haven’t seen any secret stash of pop tarts anywhere,”

“That was completely sus of you to say, now i think it was you!” you pointed.

Stupid moments like this made up for all the times you got annoyed with them. Though you loved them all to death they drove you absolutely insane.

“So where’s your secret stash then?”

“Ill never tell, you thief.”

A pair of arms suddenly came to snake around your waist and pull you further back until a head rest on your shoulder. A very sleepy Wilbur yawned and pressed a tender kiss to your shoulder. You smiled sinking back into your lovers arms and reached your hand up to pet his soft curls. Almost instantly he hummed and it mimicked a cats pur.

“What are you guys arguing about now?” he mumbled against your shirt.

“I wouldn’t say we’re arguing, just pointing blame for whoever stole the last pop tart this morning,” you explain.

“It was probably Ash,” Joe quips. Ash looks offended with his arms raise in confusion.

“Oh no, that was me,” Wilbur states nonchalantly.

“WHAT?!” The group erupted into protests.

“I was hungry,” Wilbur shrugs. “we can afford more guys.”

“very true,” you piped.

“well i guess this solves the great pop tart thief mystery,” Mark shrugs.

“Case closed.” you remark.

Soon the argument dissolved, and everyone spoke amongst themselves. You rocked with Wilbur side to side as you hummed no tune in particular as you leaned against him.

“How was your nap honey?” you asked.

“lonely,” he states. “I missed you,”

Your heart jumps at his sentiment. It had only been a few hours since you both woke up tangled in each other’s limbs, maneuvering out of the small bunk trying not to roll out and fall. Still, you missed him when he wasn’t around too.

“I missed you too,” you brought his hand up to your lips and gave it a kiss before placing it back down against your waist.

“you still wanna go through with tonight?”

You knew what he was referring to. Wilbur had come to you with the idea of you both singing a duet on stage at one of the gigs. At first you weren’t so sure, it was his bands time to shine and you didn’t want to take away from that. You’re the back up singer for Wilbur, you felt out of place trying to share the spotlight. After some convincing; more like brain washing you with his puppy dog eyes, you eventually caved and agreed to do it.

Now that it was so close to the performance, the nerves in your body weren’t going away. You had never really been front and center on stage before. Always in the back round hidden in the stage lights. So the thought of being in-front of a crowd of a thousand people staring at you, probably waiting for you to possibly mess up, was fucking you up in the brain just a bit.

Wilbur could practically feel how tense you suddenly got and perked his head up and looked at your face with a slightly worried expression.

“We don’t have to if you’re not ready darling,”

“No, I’ll be fine,” you shook your head. “I wanna do this with you, It’ll be fun.”

Your smile didn’t seem to convince him. He didn’t want to push you into anything but, he could sense how anxious you had seemed the past couple of days. One word from you and he would cancel the whole show if you asked. which of course was very silly of him.

You were determined to get over this fear and just go with it. With one last final hug you both pulled apart and began getting prepared for the show in an hour.

The show was so explosive. The energy of the crowed was strong tonight, it made your adrenaline buzz with excitement. You had almost completely forgotten about your nerves when you stepped onto that stage.

The band had just finished One Day and cheers and screams rang out through the venue. You watched as Wilbur reached down to grab the towel sat beside his mic stand and whip his brow clean from sweat. He threw the towel back down and leaned into the microphone.

Wilbur had told you after One Day was the time slot you had to sing the duet with him.

“Alright, so we have something special planned,” Wilbur spoke. “I wanna welcome to the front of the stage Y/N, my incredible backing vocalist!”

Cheers rang out for you as you stepped center stage into the light clutching your microphone. You smiled and wave at the crowd shakily, you could practically feel your heartbeat out of your chest.

“Were gonna play a song for you, and I need you guys to sing the lyrics if you know them, and be nice to Y/N, shes super nervous,”

A chorus of ‘awes’ rang out from the crowd and you blushed bashfully as you heard a bunch of various shouts of support.

“Thanks Will,” you playfully roll your eyes at him revealing your secret.

The song you had chosen was Kiss Me by Sixpence Non the Richer, one of your favorites. The opening chords rang out as Joe began the melody. Soon, Mark kicked in the drums and you were bobbing your head to the beat.

You glanced over at Wilbur and saw a smile on his lips as he began playing as well. He looked over at you and saw the panic glossing over your eyes in the light. Somehow it made you forget everything once you connected eyes.

Look at me. he mouthed. just keep your eyes on me.

You took a deep breath and began to sing the lyrics, keeping your eyes locked with Wilbur. Somehow it made you forget everything around you and be in the moment with him.

Kiss me out of the bearded barley

Nightly, beside the green, green grass

Wilbur saw how stiff you were, barely moving your limbs. In an attempt to get you to be more comfortable he moved towards you while continuing to play.

Swing, swing, swing the spinning step

You wear those shoes and I will wear that dress, oh

He leaned forward until he was practically kissing your mic. Shocked at the close proximity you kept your composure as you both sang the chorus of the song in harmony.

Kiss me beneath the milky twilight

Lead me out on the moonlit floor

staring deeply into each others eyes nothing else seemed to matter. The pit in your stomach making your knees weak with the look in his eyes as they flickered down to your own lips as he sang.

You rested your left hand on his bicep, the fabric of his silky black button up grounding you before you got too light headed.

Lift your open hand, strike up the band

And make the fireflies dance, silver moon's sparkling

So kiss me

You broke apart and suddenly felt weightless. You danced around the stage as Wilbur watched you with awe and adoration. Your cheeks were hot feeling his eyes on you the entire time. You sang the next line;

Kiss me down by the broken tree house

Swing me upon its hanging tire

Bring, bring, bring your flowered hat

You moved towards Wilbur and he turned to wiggle his hips to the beat. Trying so hard to hold back a laugh, you copied his movements. You couldn’t wait to see all the videos on your timeline the next day.

leaned against his side and began singing together once more;

We'll take the trail marked on your father's map

Kiss me beneath the milky twilight

Lead me out on the moonlit floor

Lift your open hand, strike up the band

And make the fireflies dance, silver moon's sparkling

So kiss me

You dance around the stage again feeling yourself in the moment as the last notes rang out. You didn’t even process the cheers and screams as you felt a pair of hands cup your cheeks and press their lips against yours.

Your eye’s opened in shock to see Wilbur was the one who pulled you into a kiss. On stage. in front of a whole crowd of his fans. Fuck it, you thought, and melted into his touch. His lips moved against yours softly and you could feel your skin set aflame.

Your arms looped around his middle and pulled him closer to you. Hours could have passed and you could’ve kept kissing him, but eventually you pulled away for the lack of oxygen in your lungs. Chocolate eyes peered down at you with such love you had ever felt. Wide smiles broke the two of you into infectious giggles you could barely hear over the whole crowd of people screaming all around you.

Wilbur took your hand and walked back over to his mic. All your friends were cheering you on as well, Causing you to blush harder at all the attention on you but it didn’t matter anymore.

“Well, that was a heat of the moment sort of thing guys, sorry about that,” his giggle echoing through the venue speakers, everyone ‘wooed’ in response. “Had to take my moment, y’know?”

Wilbur gazed at you out of the corner of his eye to see your bashful state. Squeezing your hand he said one last thing to the crowd before he had to move onto the next song on their line up.

“Everyone please give it up for my beautiful, wonderful, talented, girlfriend!”

You were most certainly redder than a cherry at this point. The crowd was loving every second of it. Hiding your face in Wilbur's shoulder from his side, he kisses your forehead before having to send you back over to your place on stage. You very certain your twitter feed will be insane the next day.

It wasn’t long before the next song started up and you were dancing along with Leandra. Wilbur gave you one final glance behind him and you blew him a kiss to which he beamed at you before he turned forward to continue on with the show.

-

taglist: @trashcanduck @merakiwi @addxms @ax-y10 @scenefaez @joviepog

let me know if you wanna be added or removed! :)