#pocket size drummer

[sluttery-withoutshame]

Eric’s first Kiss concert

“Did I do good, Daddy?”

“You did very good, baby.”

“💖💜💕💖”

DUDE!!

You’re blocking the star of the show!

He wore the shorty overalls!

Man he must have really loved them to choose them for his first Kiss gig. Maybe he held on to them all these years?

[eyesxxyou]

Backstage Show Pt.2

★🎸 {} .. hobie brown x groupie!reader

rating. m

word count. 3k

synopsis. after a show, you and hobie fine yourself an an alley for a little fun. little do you know, you have an audience

or

hobie fucks you in an alley in front of paparazzi

🍒・．❕warnings. exhibitionalism (sex in backalley of venue), p in v sex, unprotected sex not advised, clothed sex, anal fingering (f receiving), ass eating, fingering, public sex, degradation, little bit of a size kink, hobie has a bit of a god) superiority complex, y/n is a group who'd do anything for her idol, bit of a power dynamic fr, this is a bit toxic but gets sweet at the end y'all so hold on

backstage show pt.1 | backstage show pt.3

If you told yourself a couple of months ago that you’d be the Hobie Brown’s fuck buddy, following him around while he tours, always there with open arms, open legs, and an open mouth, you would have called yourself delusional and admitted yourself into a mental hospital. But here you were, in the backstage VIP section watching the show from the best seats in the venue.

You had no idea why Hobie’s kept you around for this long. Compared to others, in your own opinion, you weren’t all that unremarkable. You were pretty, but not the prettiest, good at sex but not the best. But you could only truly narrow it down to your devotion to him. You worshiped him like a god, kissed the very ground he walked on. Maybe he liked the attention, the way he could always be sure that you’d do absolutely anything he asked of you.

You met up with him at every one of his shows, both before and after and depending on whether you fucking him before or after the show (usually before so he could steal your panties and keep them in his pocket while on stage as a "good luck token"), you'd hang out with him and his bandmates, smoking pot and throwing back shots while they recall stories of their earlier days on the road, just the 4 of them and their old van.

His bandmates took you in as an unofficial member of the band without so much as a hitch. A band member they all took turns flirting with but a member nonetheless.

After the show, The Mary Janes came backstage and you rushed to Hobie to praise him over his performance. You wrapped your arms around his neck and his hands came to support you by grasping your waist. He kissed you feverishly, the rush and exhilaration of the concert still coursing through his veins and screaming to get out in any way possible. The way his tongue stroked yours told you neither of you would get far before his cock would be bullying its way inside your greedy pussy.

“You did so good.” You murmured against his thick lips, your tongue pressed against his lip piercing. “You looked so sexy.” Hobie nipped at your bottom lip and set you down. “I would’ve gone betta if I saw tha’ pretty face of yas out in the crowd.” It it was decided then that there would be no watching from backstage from you, you’d sit at the front of the crowd because Hobie couldn’t perform his very best without seeing his girl.

“Fuck the rest of us then.” Eli, the drummer, muttered snarkily under his breath as a joke. You turned around to look at him in his heterochromatic eyes and slapped his chest as he towered over you. “Not fucking you, am I? I can only handle one pretty face at a time.”

Another band member, Cass, with his locs up in a ponytail and fiddling with his guitar, hummed. “Ya could be though.” They often made jokes about Hobie letting them share you and each time he had the same response. “I don’ like to share wha’s mine.” He’ll eat in front of them but they’ll never get any of the food.

Hobie tapped your ass in the booty shorts you were wearing. “You ready to head out, luv? We gotta go through the back or one of us is gonna get trampled.” He grabbed you by the waist with a possessiveness that told his mate to back off or someone’s head is getting bashed in with a guitar and pulled you into him. He didn’t even have to ask, you were willing to go whenever he was, wherever he was. “Yeah, let’s go.”

The two of you said your goodbyes to his bandmates and made your way through thebackstage to get to the back exit. Hobie kept teasing you along the way, walking with his fingers dipped beneath the waistband of the slutty little shorts you had on, his teeth nipping at the soft, supple flesh of your neck, leaving small bruises where his teeth violated your innocence.

Once you two breached out of the door, Hobie spun you around and pressed you up against the heavily graffitied wall with his lips on yours and his tongue in your mouth, coaxing moans from you which he swallowed as if it were the only sustenance in the world.

“Ma pretty girl.” He cooed into your mouth as he nipped at your tongue . “Always righ’ there fa me. Always down fa anytin’.” His fingers fiddled with the button to your shorts for a moment before undoing them and pulling the useless piece of fabric down just enough to gain access to your pussy. “‘M gonna fuck you righ’ here in this alley, all’em fans just down the way. Anyone can see us. And you’re gonna let me, aren’t ya?”

You nod feverishly, looking up at him as you tucked your bottom lip between your teeth. You could hear people walking by, chanting Hobie’s name in hopes that it might coax him to come out and greet them. Anyone one of them could walk right by and see him fucking you stupid and you didn’t care. Not as long as you were the one he was fucking.

“Turn aroun’.�� He grabbed you and forced you to turn around. You braced yourself against the wall with your hands, your ass perked out and your back arched, revealing your pussy and asshole to him to use as he pleased through a brand new set of nylon stockings.

Hobie slapped your ass hard, the sound of skin meeting skin echoing off the walls loudly. He wanted to see how much noise he could get away with before someone noticed, not caring if anyone rounded the corner and saw the two of you fucking under the flickering light of the alley. He wanted someone to see your depravity, the way you were so irrationally dedicated to him, the way you’d do anything for him.

He brute forced his way through your stocking, tearing a hole big enough for him to get to your pussy. “No panties? Wha’ a bad girl.” He spanked you again and you yelped at the sting of it, his hand undoubtedly left a print against your ass.

Hobie got down on his knees in behind you, his large, calloused, rough hands spreading your ass to further expose your delicacies. Your pussy was slick with your arousal, no need for preparation. "So wet already, baby. My performance go' you all hot and bothered, then?" His voice was warm against your core and you whined and whimpered with choking words of something of agreement. His performance always got you hot and bothered. There was something both so chaotic yet sensual about the show he put on. If anyone could give Hobie anything, they'd say he certainly had stage presence.

Hobie coaxed his fingers between the warmth of your cunt before easing a single long, slender finger into you. Your silky walls clamped down around the digit in desperation for any stimulation. "Hobie~" you sang his praises as he fucked his finger in and out of you. He wish he had something to record this so he could put it into a song but alas, something like that would have to wait.

Then he added another finger, curling his fingers against your silken walls. "'m pretty girl." He almost sang, fingering you nice and hard with his tongue and lips against your asshole, eating you out in a far different way than you ever expected. He ate your ass easily, languidly, all lips and tongue breaching the tight rim of your ass just a little. "Relax, babe, relax."

You listen to his command despite the anxiety of the crowd whose edges were slowly crawling it's way nearer to the alley as more people added themselves to the awaiting crowd. You took a deep breath, closed your eyes, and forced your body to relax a little for him. You loosenedd up in accordance, making it easier for Hobie to finger fuck you and sloppily make out with your second hole.

His fingers massaged that soft spot within you, his tongue on your ass sending soft jokes of pleasure to your core as he abused your spot mercilessly. He spat on you like you were nothing but an object of her pleasure, making it known that he was doing all this for him, not for you. Hobie paused a moment and pulled his face back, watching a glob of his saliva run down from your ass to your pussy before being pushed in by his fingers that splayed your pussy open in preparation for his much larger cock.

You whined for him, nails clawing at the concrete walls. "Keep going. I'm almost there. Please, Hobes." You needed it like you needed air in your lungs to breathe or you'd simply die without it.

Hobie scoffed at your plea for some semblance of kindness from him. "Desperate whore." He murmured and went right back to eating you. You were so close your legs trembled with the mere idea of cumming on his fingers and face and the more you thought about it, the closer it came to coming true until your walls were pulsating around his fingers and your ring of muscles clenched with the intensity of the orgasm that washed over you.

Your knees buckled into each other and you would have fallen down if not for you being braced against the wall. "Hobie…please fuck me. Please– I'll do anything, please." You wanted him to extend the kindness a human gives to another and fulfill your ask to the fullest degree.

You'd come to regret that.

You listened in anticipation as he stood back up onto his booted feet and undid the buckle to his belt. He unzipped his pants to let himself free from the restraints of his clothing. He was already so hard just at the sight of you splayed open for him without so much as a shred of dignity in sight. You pushed your ass out further until your checks framed his cock and you began rubbing yourself on him. “Please Hobie.” You whined softly, looking back down the alley to ensure the two of you weren’t seen.

The risk of it made your anxiety all the greater but the sexiness of the moment greater than even that. The risk made him harder and made you wetter.

“Tha’s i’. Dirty lil’ slut can’ help haself.” Hobie grasped your hips and forced you to keep going. He couldn’t help but rut his cock against your ass, slipping it in the hole he made so he could feel his skin against yours and the heat and slick of your pussy against his balls. He grunted into your ear, spitting lewd obscenities at you while nibbling at your lobe.

“Put it in fa me, luv. Since you wan' I'm so badly.”

You whimper softly and reach behind you to grasp him at the base of his cock. You stroked his length a bit, dragging a few moans out of him along with it before directing the tip of his cock towards your dripping cunt. You prepped him the way he always did himself, dragging the leaky head of his dick between your swollen pussy lips so that your shared juices intermingled against your clit.

Hobie slapped your ass once more and this time you cried out at the pain. “I said put it in, didn’ I?” You nod in compliance and quickly positioned the head of his cock against your entrance. You tried to guide him in by he was simply too big for you to do it on your own. “I– I can’t, Hobie. Plea— ahh!” He forced his cock into you with one solid, fluid thrust into your tight hole, forcing out something of a moan and a scream from you. You slapped your hand over your mouth to keep yourself quiet, looking out down the alley once more.

Hobie didn’t seem to care not one bit as he held your hips still and fucked you nice and rough. He let out noise running parallel to huffs, growls, and groans. “Bes’ cunt ou’ there. This pussy gonna be the death of me.” There was something primal about the way he fucked you. There were no niceties, no pleasantries, no manners. Just rough fucking in the dark backalley of a venue he was just performing inside of. You weren't some girl he had to wine and dine before he could get into bed. You were just some slut he could convince to do anything. And it didn't even take much to convince you to let him fuck you in an alley.

He fucked you dumb, stupid, half brain-dead with your face pressed into the wall, lips parted and drooling while you moaned. He fucked you at an angle, ensuring that if someone did happen to come down there, they wouldn’t be able to see your face. Hobie towered over you, his body completely consuming yours while his hips fucked up into you, each thrust lifting your a little more off the ground until he was supporting your complete weight in his hands as your feet no long touched the wet, littered ground.

You let out muffled squeals and screams. He’s never fucked you like this, fucked you so animalistically. You should be scared all things considered but it only made you wetter, your pussy leaving a creamy ring around the base of his cock. “Shut up and take it.” He muttered, looking down at the way his cock split your hole open with each brutalizing thrust he delivered to your weeping pussy. Each stroke of his cock forcing you to accommodate his size, each thrust forcing your walls to memorize each groove, each vein, each stretch of him. He fucked you like you were his own personal sex toy and there was absolutely nothing you could do about it

His cock touched places that, before him, you never even knew existed. You could feel him bulge in your belly, you could feel him in your throat. You could feel him everywhere, that sweet, thick head of his just barely kissing your cervix, undoubtedly coating it in pre-cum.

“You wanna lemme try sometin’?”

“Anything.”

Satisfied with your answer, Hobie took one hand from your hips— still supporting your weight somehow— and spat on his fingers. You shivered as he placed them on your puckered asshole and spread his saliva across your second hole, prepping you, you realized. You had never done anything anal related before but you kept yourself clean down there just in case a moment like this arose. You were nervous however, as anyone would be if they were getting the shit fucked out of them in an alley with a slew of people just on the cusp of witnessing an actual crime.

“‘S jus’ a finga, okay? Jus’ ma thumb.” He assured you that he wouldn't be doing anything crazy. No here at least. He kept fucking you as he eased his thumb past the tight ring of muscles and immediately you moaned and shuddered as the feel of it intruding into your body. “Hobie…Hobie please.” It was all so much. You felt that you might simply pass out if he continued like this.

He fingered your asshole while fucking you, pressing and messaging the even tighter walls of your ass while your pussy greedily swallowed his cock with each of his thrusts. You were seeing white, crying out so loud that someone has had to hear you by now but you simply couldn’t care at this point. Hobie was fucking your too good for you to care, the rest of his fingers splayed across the small of your back as he uses his new grip on you to fuck you even harder.

This was the kind of fucking that made you revere him, worship him like the sex god he was. You kiss his feet if he wanted, lick his boots, let him degrate you, spit on you, use you as his own personal cum dumpster if he so chose because the orgasm ravishing your body right now was makinging you see white, your gaze lose focus, and your ears ring.

“Hobie, Hobie, Hobie!” You chanted his name as if calling upon a deity to help you, like a prayer on your lips to a god who wasn’t there and you just needed him to hear you. You came a second time, creaming all over his pretty dick, leaving the dark skin glistening in white from your cum.

You could hear Hobie come down from his own high, fucking cum into you with a low, gravelly groan into your ear. His final thrusts were spaced and rough as he emptied his balls into your pussy and once he was done he removed all appendages from you and quickly made you decent before someone could see you stuffed like a thanksgiving turkey.

You could feel his cum leaking out of your pussy as Hobie helped you out of the alley, tossing an arm over your shoulder and pulling you in close to protect you from the paparazzi’s intrusive photos. You thought about how later you were going to finger yourself again with his cum still inside you, hopefully able to get him on the phone to help you through it.

Later on that week, you saw a tabloid magazine about Hobie and smack dab as the front picture was you and Hobie in the alley fucking. You couldn’t see either of your faces but it was very clearly Hobie from his wild hair. In a panic, you called Hobie, babbling on and on about how you shouldn’t have done that and that you might lose your job.

“Is your face in the photo?”

“Well…no.”

“Then how will they know it’s you?” He made a good point. As long as no picture showed up with your face in it, you had nothing to worry about. You took a deep breath to calm yourself. “You’re right, sorry. Okay, I’ve gotta go but I’ll see you tomorrow, right?”

“Of course, luv. Have a good night.”

[lumosinlove]

Day Two of @oknutzy-week-2024 !!

Write Me In

Finn O’Hara, the lead singer of Night Swimming, the band that tops charts year after year, has an interview set with music’s top writer, Leo Knut. The whole thing will take place over one week at the locations and times of Finn’s choosing. Leo’s not freaking out. He definitely hasn’t had a crush on Finn since he was sixteen. Logan Tremblay, the band’s drummer, definitely had nothing to do with Leo realizing he liked boys.

Leo’s to go see the concert and then do the first part of the interview after the show. Only, when he’s shown back to Finn’s dressing room for the first interview, Leo definitely opens the door at the wrong moment. Because there is Finn O’Hara, heartthrob to people everywhere, kissing his drummer, Logan Tremblay.

Leo had gone through too many outfits. His bedroom floor back at his apartment was a mess of his clothes. The problem was that he didn’t know where they were going. Where would Finn O’Hara want his interview done? He was in the middle of a massive world tour so they could end up anywhere from his dressing room to his private jet. That had happened to Leo before. He’d gotten right on the plane with the star and then be left at their destination to get himself home.

They could go to one of New York City’s number one restaurants—Paps were always catching Finn at Nobu and Via Carota—or it could be one of the apartments he kept. It could be a damn night club for all Leo knew. You didn’t wear the same clothes to Via Carota as a night club. Well. Some people did, he guessed.

Finally, and only cut off by the prospect of being late, Leo stepped out of his building’s elevator in slim fitted slacks and a white button-down, open at the collar. If he needed to dance, he’d undo a few buttons and dance. Otherwise, his sleeves were cuffed just below his elbows and his blond curls were cooperating perfectly. At least he had that going for him. The other variable had been his bag. Usually he carried his leather cross-body with his laptop and notebook. He didn’t want his laptop at a club—or a restaurant, to be honest. He’d settled on folding his sunglasses into his shirt and slipping a pocket-sized notebook into his trousers along with his phone.

The only thing he knew for certain was that he was going to get to see the concert first. And he was being cool about it. Completely professional.

Not thinking about the posters he’d had on his bedroom wall when he was sixteen. He wasn’t. His mom had sent him the picture of him grinning like a lunatic at Finn O’Hara’s first world tour. He wasn’t thinking about it. Not at all.

From his back pocket, his phone began to buzz. His assistant, Cassie.

“Hey, any chance you know where the hell I’m going?” he asked.

“Ten bucks you cry.”

Leo closed his eyes. “Jesus Christ.”

“Or go completely speechless.”

“I am an adult.”

“You cry when we pass those pet stores with puppies in the window.”

“I am a compassionate adult, Cas. Now where—”

“You’re going to the show!”

“I mean after,” Leo asked. “Any word from Finn—from O’Hara’s team? Where are we doing this thing?”

“How many outfits did you try on?”

Leo hung up.

The venue was much what he expected. Finn had five albums out with a much anticipated sixth one coming sometime this year. The June night was cool as Leo fell into the masses headed to Metlife Stadium. His magazine had said they’d send a car, but Leo opted for the trains. Maybe they were a pain, but so was traffic. And besides, this way, Leo would get to see the fans. Finn’s real fame had come with his second album, titled Bring The Stars, and he’d only gotten bigger with his third, Red&Gold, so there were many a star-studded dresses and golden, shimmering outfits. Leo stuck out sorely in his black and white. He texted Cassie.

Maybe I should have been more festive.

She replied immediately. I’ve seen your heartthrob O’Hara shirt. An emoji that had its tongue sticking out quickly followed.

Not helpful.

He talked to a few of the fans. One girl who had drawn gold stars all over her body. A boy wore a shirt that read I’M THE STARS, TAKE ME over a strong chest. It was a rather touching lyric in Finn’s song, but on the shirt it looked like a pick-up line and made Leo smile and write it down.

At the venue, he was lead straight to the VIP tent with his press pass, and was handed about four lanyards that would keep him there, allow him to go between the viewing tent and the VIP bar, and another that would later let him backstage. The woman who gave them to him promised to fetch him sometime after the encore. Then he was presented with a Finn&Tonic.

“Oh, I’m working.”

The woman smiled. “For the next two hours, you’re watching a concert.”

True enough, Leo thought. His inner teenager was whirling at the very manufactured idea that Finn had created this drink for him. He was sure anyone over twenty-one in the stadium was feeling the same.

“I tried to get Finnarita to happen, but no-go.”

Leo turned towards the voice at his shoulder and froze. He stared. He opened his mouth. He thought about speaking. The red hair, the brown eyes. It looked—well, almost how Leo imagined. Then again, he’d never seen Finn up close before. God, he was so much sturdier than his posters made him out to be. His chest and arms were pushing out against his t-shirt. Leo needed to not be looking at his chest. He should say hello. He should say something.

“What are you doing here?” he blurted out. He looked towards the stage where the opening act had just come on.

There was a laugh from beside him and when Leo looked back over, a hand was being extended. Without thinking, Leo took it.

“I’m watching the show.” The winning smile turned secretive. “I know what you’re thinking, and I’m sorry to disappoint, but I’m just the brother. Alex.”

Oh. Of course. That’s what was off.

“Oh,” Leo said. “Oh my God.”

Alex laughed harder. He shrugged.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean—” Leo let out a laugh because something about Alex made it feel like he could. “You probably get that all the time.”

“People think we’re twins. Always have. I’m used to it.”

“Well, I’m Leo.” After a beat, Leo did what he hated to do. “And I am under an obligation to tell you right now that you’re speaking to press.”

Alex nodded. He was probably thinking up some excuse to walk away. Whatever. Leo was used to that. No one wanted a random quote ending up in the wrong place.

“I know who you are,” Alex said instead. “I loved your piece on poetry in pop.”

Leo only just managed to swallow a sip of his drink around his surprise. “Oh? Thank you. It was a fun one. Listen, I still feel bad about nearly freaking out on you.”

“Ha, don’t worry. I mean, it’s a good thing you’re a fan—you are, I take it?”

“Yes. I mean, yes.”

“Well.” Alex nodded to his nearly empty drink then to the VIP bar. “You can join me for a drink later to make up for it.”

“Sure, of course.” The words came out of his mouth, but as Alex grinned and turned towards the bar, all of the heat rushed to Leo’s face.

He wasn’t positive, but he was fairly sure he was being hit on by Finn O’Hara’s big brother. Either that, or scoped out to make sure he was worthy of writing the story. Or he was being nice?

Leo gave up on thinking and watched Alex’s shoulders walk away.

There was a little menu in the tent and Leo glanced at it, trying to picture Alex O’Hara buying him a drink—and kissing him. The list was funny. Album themes. Song titles. Maybe he’d let Alex buy him a Rum & Gold.

Then, it was all Finn. He came out onto stage like something from one of Leo’s fantasies. He wore dark jeans and a green tank top that read LUCKY ME—a hit single off of the second album. Leo had died for that song in high school…He still did.

I watch you fill your cup with sugar,

Waitress asks 'what will it be?’ 

In this world of ‘order up!’ 

Babe, you let me rest ease-y

I just say lucky me

I just say lucky me

“You know, I grew up here.” Finn’s voice echoed through the stadium after that song—it was quite a contrast. Lucky Me got more and more sexy with every verse. The diner waitress and I watch you fill your cup with sugar soon turned into Let me fill you up with sugar, let me drown in sweet and sweat. Leo wanted to know who in Finn’s life took their coffee sickly sweet.

“It’s the best city in the world,” Finn was saying. “Oh, and hey, my big brother’s here tonight! Everyone say Hiii, Alex-aaaa-nder!”

Alex got a thunderous hello and Finn—Finn was looking right at the VIP tent. Right at Alex. Who was standing right next to Leo again.

For a second, Leo swore Finn was looking at him. He felt those brown eyes, and when Finn smiled, lighting up every screen in the place, Leo felt that, too. He started to sweat, to blush. He was no better than anyone else in this crowd.

He swore, he swore, Finn was still looking at him when he raised his microphone to his mouth and said. “So many beautiful people here tonight…” Then he raised a hand. “You guys ready?”

He let them cheer, he tilted his head back and basked in it, the strong lines of his throat and jaw on complete display.

In a low, deadly rasp, Finn said, “Let me hear you, Lo.”

When he dropped his hand in a powerful fist, the drums kicked to life behind him.

Lo. It was only then that Leo managed to tear his eyes away from Finn. Three beats answered Finn’s words and the spotlight swung to Logan behind his kit.

Leo was going to die. He’d vastly overestimated his ability to keep his focus while doing this assignment. How was he supposed to remember his own name, much less how to write, when Logan Tremblay was sat there sweating through a clinging gray t-shirt, his brown hair curling up around a backwards black hat. Logan started up a beat that Leo would recognize anywhere. Their song I See Red had come out last year and Leo had been most intrigued because it was the first time Logan had sung alone on parts of a song. Although Finn sang most of it, Leo had played it over and over again for the parts that Logan sang. His voice was slightly deeper than Finn’s, the vowels influenced by his French-Canadian accent.Then there was the part when, like in Lucky Me, they traded beats and lyrics. The stadium went mad, though, when Logan began to sing his verse. Nothing but him and his drums.

I see red in my dreams.

Pressed against me,

Hard and gently,

Making me see.

Meant to be.

Two beats.

I see Red breaking free.

Looking at me

Breathing, ready,

No make believe.

Meant to be.

He went right into the bridge and the way he sang it—it was like Leo had never listened to the song at all until this moment. The way his body moved as he pounded the drums. Finn joined in, harmonizing and grinning wildly. The crowd had no care for the melody—they screamed the lyrics with Logan and the lights flashed every time his sticks hit his drums.

Red in my dreams getting all over me,

Sweat in my eyes please say you’ll never leave,

I knew once I woke I’d take it all back

So I never woke and we stayed like that.

I am not asleep and you are not a dream,

And my Red looks good in the sunlight gleam,

Not going back to sleep, or how it was.

Cover me in Red for forever cause

I see Red cross the street

Waving to me,

Wearing blue jeans,

Such a day dream.

Meant to be.

Finn looked flushed when he raised his arms to the crowd.

The crowd lost it—and continued to do so every time Finn and Logan did a similar call-and-answer. Finn’s voice and Logan’s drums. It was like a heart. Its beat and breath. Leo found himself grinning all through their song Green Eyes, rumored to be about a girl Finn spent a night with on tour in France. With each of Finn’s verses, Logan’s drums answered him with as many beats. No, you don’t—say much—but I read—your touch. Now Finn was standing behind Logan as Logan played, leaning in to share his microphone. You fall—I sigh—Oh my—green eyes.

It was hot. It was more than hot, it was sensual. Personal. The microphone caught Logan’s laugh and the crowd lost it all over again. A group of girls just in front of the VIP tent were sobbing—Leo was fairly sure they had been the entire time. He started to laugh a little, even if it was sweet how they held each other through the swaying rhythm of Your Loss and Thin Ice.

Leo knew he had been waiting for his favorite song. He’d been hoping each time a new one began that this would be it. It was softer, and he thought maybe he’d get to hear a bit more of Finn’s voice alone above all the instruments.

What actually happen was so much better. Finn sat down at the piano and began to play—alone.

“How are we all doing? Enjoying ourselves?” Finn grinned when the crowd roared for him. “Okay, good. Good, good. Um. This next one I’m gonna play a little piano, how’s that?”

Leo fought the urge to cover his giddy smile.

“Fantastic. You guys are great, I gotta tell you. But I’d expect nothing less from my favorite city… So, I think there are a lot of lovers of this song out there,” Finn said. “Me included. I actually didn’t expect everyone to love it so much because I know it’s a little different. Little sadder than our usual stuff. I wrote this one alone. Haven’t written anything alone since, but this one I did. I think it’s about making choices. It’s about wanting something so bad…” He paused, playing a few gorgeous soft chords, and Leo knew. This was his song. “That you hold on, even to the tiniest sliver.”

As raptured by Finn as Leo was, a movement on the stage caught his eye. Logan was getting up from behind his kit and leaving the stage. Leo frowned, watching his broad shoulders disappear. Maybe he was getting water because Finn played this one solo. Finn, on the stadium monitors, seemed to be watching, too.

“It’s a song about hope, really,” Finn said. “This is Rooftop.”

Part of Leo wanted to close his eyes, as he always did while listening. When Finn began to sing, he was a thousand places at once. Driving back home in New Orleans and singing it at the top of his lungs. Laying in his bed in the dark, crying so hard he couldn’t breathe through his nose. Swaying with Cassie at some party at the end of the night.

He didn’t close his eyes. He was here. The closest he’d ever been to Finn O’Hara in his life. He could see his famous freckles. Those gorgeous brown eyes—and the sorrow in them just now.

It’s a long, long, summer night

And I have no where to be.

I am gone, gone, lost the fight

Against hoping you’d want me.

It feels wrong, wrong, sitting here

Cause this is your place too.

You are gone, gone, lost the fight

But you know what is true.

I know you do.

Finn let the crowd sing the second I know you do back to him before he hit a gorgeous, thrumming piano chord and sang the chorus in a way that made Leo’s throat close up—as it always did.

I will lose my balance, I will

I will choose the highest place

Sit where only wind can race

Faster than your heart.

I will lose my courage, I will

I will fall and see your face

Reach out just enough to trace

All our broken parts.

And the bridge. God, the bridge. Sung in this quick, chopped low voice that Leo leaned into like he was thirsty. The crowd sang along so loud Leo felt it in his chest.

Bet the blood’s there still

Lingering on that window sill

But what no one sees

Are the ruins left of me.

Cause I’m still up there

My dreams smoking in the air.

Find the highest part

That’s the place we start.

And the blood’s still fresh…

The beautiful, beautiful pause. He was magnificent with the piano. The screens showed a shot of his hands, pale, strong wrists, delicate fingers. Leo got swept up by the key change, slowing it down, Finn’s voice raising, strong, the words drawn out, and so, so desperate for—for the memory, Leo thought, hand pressed against his chest. This song had always felt like a memory.

I wish you best

But I need you to know

That I will not rest

Until you tell me to go-oh

I’ve still got one hand

Locked on the ledge

Think I will hold on

Until you throw-oh

Me

Down

To my

Death.

Finn’s mouth rested against the microphone. His eyes were closed. The summer wind brushed his hair back from his forehead and—and Leo saw the tear track on his cheek. His voice was so, so soft for the final verse.

It’s a long, long, summer night

And I have no where to be.

I hold on, on in the fight

Of hoping you’ll want me.

Leo was in a daze when the set ended and he was whisked away by two people with headsets and backstage badges on. He fumbled to show his own passes to the three rounds of security. To his surprise, what he thought of as backstage was actually under the stage. He was lead through a curtain beneath the front part of the stage and through what resembled scaffolding. It was also a maze. He tried to keep track of where he was, but that plan went out the window in a second. There was no way he’d make it anywhere on his own if he had to. Soon enough, the low ceilings and metal poles disappeared and he was in the actual rooms of the stadium. More endless hallways, but a bit less of feeling like the whole thing could collapse on his head.

“Here we are, Mr. Knut,” said one of his companions. They’d arrived at a door that had a plastic sheet on it reading O’HARA.

Leo didn’t hear much of what was said after that. O’Hara. Leo saw flashes of all the posters, all the interviews, all those Instagram lives Finn used to do from the apartment he shared with Logan. He missed those videos. Finn in the kitchen talking about the new music he was working on, Logan wandering by shirtless behind him. It almost made one feel like they were in the room—which had probably been the point.

When he looked up again, the two headsets were walking away.

“Wait! Wait, should I knock or—”

But the world had already moved on in the post-show chaos and Leo was left standing there. He was more than surprised to find himself alone. He’d thought, being a journalist and all, they’d watch him like a hawk. Most musicians wanted to control what he saw. Apparently not Night Swimming.

Leo stepped closer to the sign, to the door, listening. He didn’t hear anything behind it. Not talking—maybe music, but it was hard to tell where that was coming from. Hesitantly, Leo knocked.

The door fell open a few inches. The latch must not have been done properly. Leo’s eyes raised in surprise. Now he could hear something—it was soft beneath the shouts and passing carts outside. But someone was inside.

Leo knocked again, gently, not wanting to startle, and took a half-step inside. He was expected, surely. Finn had been told?

Any words he might have had died in his throat.

Finn was inside. It was a warm space, soft music playing. A dressing table, a mini fridge, a guitar propped up against the sofa, an electric kettle. And Finn.

Finn who had Logan pressed up against the wall beside the mirror, its light warming their skin, kissing him. Kissing Logan in the same way he sang—with everything. Logan looked like Finn was all that was holding him up. He was still in the gray t-shirt, but his hat was gone—knocked to the floor by their feet. His dark curls were wild. Finn’s pale hands had hitched up his shirt and they made a stark contrast against Logan’s tan muscles. Logan made a soft sound into Finn’s mouth, Leo saw him bite at Finn’s lip and pull, and then Finn was dragging his lips down to Logan’s neck.

Maybe Leo made a sound himself, he didn’t know, but Logan’s eyes flashed open and met Leo’s.

Green. Green green green and then—

Interest. The look in them was so intense that Leo couldn’t move. He couldn’t close his eyes, couldn’t look away, couldn’t shut the door. Logan’s hand fisted Finn’s read hair and he—he pulled Finn off of his neck to kiss him again—eyes on Leo. He tapped Finn’s hip and Finn stopped. Leo heard him ask, what? Logan nodded his head in Leo’s direction.

Suddenly, brown eyes were on him, too. Finn’s eyes.

“Oh,” Finn said. His lips were pink and slick from Logan’s. Logan’s strong hand was still knotted in his hair.

“Excuse me,” Leo choked out. Finally, he forced his eyes down. Kissing, his mind chanted. FinnandLoganFinnandLogan. “I’m—I’m so sorry, I was told—”

“No, no, no,” Finn said. “Sorry, I didn’t hear you come in.” Finn looked around for a moment, a little dazed, and then spotted his shirt. He pulled it on backwards, cursed, and righted it. Damn right lucky you, Leo thought, glancing at Logan’s mouth.

“I’m sorry. I’m—so sorry, I’m here for…um.”

“Leo Knut,” Finn said. He strode forward and offered Leo a hand. If he was at all nervous about what Leo had just caught him and Logan doing, he didn’t show it. “I know, I’ve been looking forward to your interview. My brother and I, we talk about your work all the time.”

Leo was going to pass out. “Okay. I mean thank you.”

Finn smiled a little. He wiped his mouth. Leo tried to keep his eyes from following the motion.

“Um.” Leo said. “The show was fantastic.”

“Yeah? Thanks.”

“You’ve seen us before,” Logan said—and not like a question.

“Yeah,” Leo replied. “This is my third time. I’ve been a fan for a while. Since the beginning, really.” Stop talking. “So. So, my office said that we would be—well, I’m here for…”

“Right,” Finn said. “Of course. I think we’re doing an hour now, right?” When Leo nodded, he gestured to the couch. “Please, sit. Can we get you anything?”

Leo blinked. “Oh. Um. Water?”

“Let’s order food,” Logan said, collapsing on the couch. “I’m fucking starving.” He looks at Leo. “Or am I supposed to get out for this Finn O’Hara interview?”

“No,” Finn said, then looked at Leo. “I’d like him to stay.”

“That’s completely fine,” Leo said. “Better, even.” That sounded weird. “I mean, I’d love to hear both of your—of what you have to say.”

Leo stumbled through his questions. He fumbled his words, his phrasing. He had no direction, no path, he couldn’t remember all the angles he’d planned to try until he found this story.

The worse part was, he knew they could tell. Logan’s stormy eyes tracked his missteps like a shark. He was a quiet one. Leo had known that. He was like that in interviews. It bordered on rude, honestly, but Leo knew he had a sweet side. He’d seen videos of Logan spending a solid thirty minutes talking to fans through fences, outside of their hotels. Talking, taking photos, signing autographs, recording video messages for friends. So, Leo withstood the glare. He had, after all, walked in on him kissing Finn. The world certainly didn’t know about that.

By the time the hour was up, Leo had nothing but an empty notebook and a headache. 

“We don’t have a show tomorrow,” Finn said. “Why don’t you come around to the apartment? Lo and I sleep late, but mid-day?” Finn smiled at him, friendly and sweet.

Lo and I. Was this Finn telling him something? Were they more than roommates? Not that it was any of Leo’s business, not that it had anything to do with the article, it was only…Leo tried to imagine himself at seventeen, knowing that Finn O’Hara and Logan Tremblay shared the part of himself that he was most unsure about. God, what that would have done for him.

“That sounds wonderful,” Leo said. “Thank you. Should we say noon?”

“Two,” Logan said. “We sleep late.”

Leo looked back to Logan. No smile. Studying. That same looked Leo had received during the kiss.

“Two, then,” Leo said.

If there was one thing he hadn’t expected from tonight, it was not being able to get out of that room fast enough.

[a-s-levynn]

May i present you a tiny pocket sized drummer

He definitely could have had more details with the jacket, i know, but i love the simplicity of this one a lot to be honest.. (he might gonna need an other coat of paint because my room is so dark and my desklamp is not really improving the situation, and there are defintiely spots i missed)

Also look at them baby blues , i know some would be rioting if not shown properly

ps: i still gonna need to make iii and the vesselettes but if i have enough material left i might do an other vessel as well.. i love the first one, he is og smol boi but i'm getting used to this modeling clay a lot more and i may be able to do him more justice, showing more mask and all that🤔

[sirenlulls]

lover → r. mcmahon

pairing —ryan mcmahon x fem!reader

summary —what ryan would be like as your silly little rockstar boyfriend <3

can i go where you go? can we always be this close? forever and ever

watching father ted together

you'd probably end up learning some of the quotes with him

randomly reciting said quotes while the band are just sitting around

it's giving mother and father

it's giving cutest couple of the year

it's giving got together late teens and will stay together eternally

i have a really cute idea of you being the band's photographer

like imagine you grew up living in the same estate as josh so when he officially joined the band, he ended up introducing you to them

you became great friends with them all and started to take their pictures at gigs and sending them out to media and agencies and venues and everything

you'd film the tour diary videos

there's a very popular clip of ryan taking the camera off of you and bullying you into doing a little talking piece but you keep laughing and looking at him

you're every inhaler fan's fashion inspo

they get sooooo excited to see your fits every gig

you've worn a shirt that says "i ❤️ drummers" at least once

you have the rockstar gf pinterest girlies eating out of the palm of your hand

you'd take so many pictures with, and of, fans too

he'd be giving you sneaky little looks during their set xx

tiktok is full of his cheeky winks to you

the band love you, except for one week in 2022 when you released almost every photo you took on your secondary school film camera

inhaler meme pages across the world will forever be in debt to you

after a few pints you join in on the drummer slander

"my little pocket sized baby"

he's not a big pda guy

BUT he will always hold your hand. anytime, anyplace.

he's such a cutie pie

every picture you take of him have with the cutest heart eyes past the camera, solely on you

before you got with ryan you thought that people who said it was possible to feel loved by just a look were full of shit

not anymore baby

he makes you feel like the only girl in the world

to him, you are

he's so loml coded

[legolasghosty]

kiss out of spite for willex plz and thank you (if this isn't too late I'm so behind lol)

You are absolutely not too late!!! I'm just very behind, lol! Hope you enjoy!

"Hey Hotdog," Willie says as he slides onto the bench beside his boyfriend, his board under his arm.

"Hi," Alex responds, that familiar smile crossing his face as he leans in to peck them gently on the mouth in greeting. "How was the ride over?"

"Great, all the dogs are out!" Willie answers. One of the things that makes this cafe one of his and Alex's date spots is that it's not too far to walk (or skate) to from either of their apartments. And the warm, spring weather makes it an easy place to meet up.

Alex laughs. "Oh I know, Reggie hasn't stopped texting the guys and I pictures all day."

Willie claps a hand to his chest in mock offense. "And he hasn't sent any to me?! I thought we were friends."

"Nope, you've been spared the spam of puppy pictures, he definitely likes you more than me," Alex argues lightly.

"What, you don't appreciate him sharing the cuteness of his day with you?" Willie teases.

The barista calls out Alex's name before the drummer can reply. Alex holds up a finger, as if to say Hold that thought, then rises and heads for the counter. Willie glances towards the menu board. Right, cafe, he should probably get something. They wonder if that new chocolate thing comes in decaf.

"Okay, I got one of the berry lemonades and one of this dutch chocolate mocha," Alex says, placing a tall glass and a large mug on the table. "Which do you want?"

Willie feels their face warming as they realize that Alex ordered drinks for both of them. "Um, I'm good with either," he says, trying to translate the way his heart skips a beat into a smile Alex can read. "Thank you."

Alex groans playfully. "Look, we both know I can't make decisions, so pick a drink, Covington." He sits down on the bench beside Willie and nudges both drinks in their direction.

Willie hesitates, glancing back and forth between the cups. "This is decaf, right?" he asks after a second, tapping the rim of the mug.

"Yep, can't have you going hyper or me throwing up," Alex confirms.

"I'll try that one then," Willie decides, wrapping both hands around the hot ceramic and lifting it.

"Perfect," Alex declares, taking a sip of the lemonade. "You'll have to tell me if it's good though, looked interesting."

"Will do." Willie takes a sip of the beverage, recoiling slightly when it burns their tongue. "Thank you," they repeat.

"Of course," Alex says, though the pink in his cheeks betrays his casual tone. "Gotta keep my partner well hydr-" He cuts himself off, probably realizing that drinking coffee is the opposite of hydrating. "Happy to," he finishes after a second.

Willie lets it go, since Alex already seems embarrassed. "So about all those dog pictures Reggie sent you," they hint instead, raising an eyebrow.

Alex chuckles, seeming glad for the change of topic. "What, you want to see them that bad?" he questions, incredulous. "There's a lot of them."

"Gimme!" Willie declares, reaching for the pocket of Alex's pink hoodie, where his phone usually resides.

"Okay okay okay," Alex giggles, holding up one hand in surrender while grabbing the device with the other.

He unlocks it and leans closer so Willie can see the screen. Feeling brave, Willie wraps an arm around his waist to guide him even closer. Alex's ears are turning pink, but he carefully slips his own arm around Willie's shoulders.

"So..." Alex hums, scrolling back through the Sunset Curve group chat on his phone, past dozens of pictures and messages. "Yeah all of this is from today," he continues, still scrolling. "But here's the first one I think."

Willie coos at the blurry picture of a couple of golden labs wrestling near a playground. Next is a spaniel on a walk with their human. Then a dog walker being nearly dragged across the sidewalk by four dogs of various sizes. Willie laughs at that one.

Alex scrolls down to the next one, but someone loudly clearing their throat pulls both of their attention away from the screen. On the other side of their table stands a tall, white man in jeans and a flannel shirt. He also has a very deep frown on his face.

"Hey, what's up?" Willie asks cautiously. He feels Alex's arm tense around his shoulders.

"What's 'up'," the guy snaps, putting air quotes around the second word, "is that you two are being all rowdy over here and bothering my family."

The guy has a slight southern accent, but the look on his face is anything but hospitable. Willie glances across the cafe to see a woman and three kids, probably all under the age of 10, a few tables away. The kids are making more noise than he and Alex were though.

"Sorry," Alex says quickly. "We weren't trying to, we'll be quieter."

The guy doesn't seem satisfied by that, which doesn't surprise Willie. They're pretty sure they know what this is actually about.

"You'd better get real quiet," the man says, taking a step closer. "I don't need you people exposing my kids to all your unnatural tenancies."

Willie feels Alex shrinking into their side and resists the urge to punch this guy in the face. Sure, they're both well aware that jerk homophobes are everywhere. But right now? Really? Alex is barely back from having to spend a weekend with his homophobic parents for a family reunion. Can't this jerk just mind his own business?

"With all due respect," Willie responds, his tone icy, "I think your kids aren't going to be eternally traumatized by me and my boyfriend being on a date while they're drinking hot chocolate in the same cafe. Please leave us alone."

"You people got some nerve," the man growls, one fist clenching.

Willie slides the hand that isn't on Alex's waist into his pocket, reaching for his pepper spray.

"Sure, we have guts," Alex cuts in, startling both the man and Willie. "But not because we're doing anything wrong. We're brave for still being out here when people like you are here too. People who want us dead just because we're queer."

Willie feels a rush of pride for his boyfriend in his chest. They know just how much Alex has had to fight against the homophobia drilled into him from an early age. They know all about how much pain it causes him when his parents continue to pretend that he isn't gay. They know how terrifying these situations are for the both of them. And Alex is standing up for them anyways.

"Yeah, and we're not going anywhere," Willie adds, feeling Alex's trembling. "It's not like being gay is anything new. It's just a part of humanity, whether you like it or not. So you might as well give up and leave us alone, because your big man act is just pathetic." He channels every bit of his dad into that last sentence. "Now either leave us be or we'll call the cops."

The guy splutters for a minute, then storms off. Alex just stares after him for a long moment, then turns to Willie with a nervous smile.

"You okay?" the drummer asks, brushing a strand of hair away from their face.

"Yeah, you?" Willie responds, catching Alex's hand with their own.

Alex nods. "I think so. I just wasn't really expecting that I guess."

"Me either," Willie says, taking in a deep breath.

He glances back over at the man's table to see him snapping at his kids to finish their drinks so they can leave. They can't help the smirk that pulls at their lips. The two of them did that. They stood up to that jerk and drove him off. Together.

"You did great," he tells Alex, squeezing his hand.

"Right back at you," Alex chuckles, his smile growing a bit. The drummer steals a look over at the other table as well. "Geez, sucks to be that guy's kids," he comments.

"Yeah," Willie agrees sadly. "Maybe he'll get better?"

Alex just shakes his head. Willie wonders if he reminded the drummer of his dad at all. But now isn't for thinking about jerks, they tell themself. Today is for having fun and being back together.

"Hey, you wanna tick that dude off a bit more?" Willie asks, raising an eyebrow and grinning.

Alex huffs a laugh. "Depends, what did you have in mind?"

Instead of verbally answering, Willie moves his arm from Alex's waist to cup the back of his neck. They move in closer, pausing a few inches away from his face to wait for an answer. Alex smirks and closes the distance between them in a warm, solid kiss.

Willie lets go of Alex's hand to cup his jaw as the drummer's fingers slide into their hair. It's firm and steady and it's not long before they're both smiling too much to keep kissing. The glare the homophobe shoots them as he herds his family out the door just makes them laugh.

"I missed you," Alex breathes into the space between them. "I know I wasn't actually gone for that long, but..."

"I get it," Willie responds softly. "I missed you too."

They separate fully after another minute. Willie's coffee is getting cold, but they don't really mind. "So my place after this?" he suggests. "We can get takeout for dinner and watch some cheesy gay romcom or something?"

"Sounds perfect," Alex agrees.

The End

[lemoncrushh]

Wild Horses - Nine

Summary: Amber Crosby didn’t end up with the life she’d expected, but that didn’t keep her from following her dream. A young, up and coming country recording artist, she and her band set out to do just that. Trying to leave her past behind, it wasn’t until meeting Harry Styles that she realized just how her life could take a turn and alter her future forever.

A/N: Please note all portions in italics are meant to be flashbacks :).

STORY PAGE

Chapter Nine Word Count: 5.2k+

“Don’t let me start wishin’ I was with him now…” - Julie Roberts; Break Down Here

“Amber. Guys. This is Malcolm Goodwin,” Jeff gestured to the tall man next to him who immediately offered his hand.

“Please, call me Mally,” he smiled. “Or just Mal is fine, too.”

“Hi…” Amber began before clearing her throat. “How do you do?”

“Very well, thanks,” he replied with a wink as they shook hands before moving on to shake Brendan and Johnny’s. Feeling awkward as it was, Amber blushed as she wiped her damp hand on the hip of her jeans, hoping Malcolm hadn’t noticed.

“Mally here is both a session drummer and a touring drummer. He’s played with everyone from Gavin DeGraw to Sheryl Crow to Kenny Loggins to...who else?” Jeff laughed.

“Uh...Maddie and Tae. Darius Rucker. Alicia Keys. Keith Urban...” Mally added.

“Wow,” Amber mouthed, astonished.

“Oh yeah, man, I think I saw you with Urban a few years ago. Were you playing with him in...2013? 2014?” asked Johnny.

Mally gave a wide grin as he puffed his chest with pride. “That was me.”

“Aw man. Guys,” Johnny turned to his bandmates. “This dude’s phenomenal.”

Mally and Jeff both chuckled as they eyed each other.

“Well, I’m a bit modest,” the drummer commented. “But I appreciate the compliment.”

“Well…” Amber muttered, “I’m...impressed to say the least.”

“As you should be,” confirmed Jeffrey as he gave Mally a pat on the back. “But most importantly, he’s so generously agreed to save our asses, to put it bluntly.”

Amber bit her lip as she tucked her fingers inside her pockets.

“I’ve heard all your songs,” Mally further explained. “I don’t think it’s going to be any problem getting up to speed for tonight.”

“Tonight,” Amber echoed, her voice coming from her lips quiet while the one inside her head was screaming.

Since leaving Pittsburgh early that morning, her mind had been in a whirlwind. She’d known there was a show that night in Cleveland, and she’d very much been aware that she was one band member short. But only just now had the truth really started to shine its light.

“Guys, Mal is here to help you out for now. It’s temporary to start with, okay? You can...try him out for size so to speak. If things don’t work out...no hard feelings. We’ll just find someone else. Alright?”

“Dude, I’m in,” Brendan lifted his hand which Mally instantly gave a high five.

“Same here,” echoed Johnny, joining in on the bro slaps.

The room fell silent as the men all stared at Amber. Suddenly she was back in fifth grade in the school spelling bee, all eyes upon her as she willed her brain to come up with the correct order of letters.

“Amber,” Jeffrey looked at her with raised brows, arms out and palms up. “This is your band. It’s your call.”

Biting her lip again, her head slowly began to move until she gave an enthusiastic nod. “Yes. Okay. Let’s give it a shot.”

The sound of clapping hands and whistles erupted from the front row. Harry caught the tiny grin on Amber’s face as she held the microphone, having just done a complete run-through with her band and new sit-in drummer.

“Well done, Jeffrey,” Harry elbowed his manager.

Jeff merely nodded as he continued to clap. When Amber replaced her microphone in its stand, she turned to face the drums, her back to her small but enthusiastic audience.

“I’m so happy for her,” remarked Sarah who sat to Harry’s left. “Mally’s a legend. He’ll definitely add something to the band. I mean...I think it’s safe to say, they already sound better?”

Harry nodded in agreement, a slight smirk twitching his lips. He knew what Sarah meant. She was a legendary drummer herself, as far as he was concerned. But he reckoned she wasn’t only referring to Mally’s abilities.

Harry watched the band disperse from the stage, Amber choosing to take the stairs down.

“That was wonderful!” exclaimed Clare, rising to meet her with a hug.

“Thanks,” Amber grinned shyly. “It was pretty great, wasn’t it?”

The rest of Harry’s band along with Jeffrey circled around her, giving their support and praise, adding more as Brendan and Johnny came to join them. When Mally made the group complete, everyone resumed their cheers.

“Ah, thanks guys,” he smiled modestly, his hand on his chest.

“Welcome to the tour,” Harry greeted, slipping between Amber and Clare with an extended hand. “It’s gonna sound amazing tonight.”

“Thanks, Harry,” said Mally with a firm handshake. “I’m looking forward to it.”

“Who’s up for some grub?” proposed Brendan. “I’m starving!”

The group laughed as several made plans to grab a bite, the others taking off for a nap or whatever other things the afternoon had in store. When Harry noticed Amber had stayed behind, he couldn’t help but feel a little hopeful, though he was unsure exactly why. Turning to grab his hoodie from the chair, he heard her sweet, silvery voice speak one single word.

“Hi.”

“Hi yourself,” he smiled. “You’re not going?”

“To eat? Nah. Sleep sounds better.”

Harry chuckled. “Did you sleep at all last night?”

Amber shrugged. “Maybe a couple hours.”

Slipping his hoodie over his head, Harry gestured toward the exit. Amber followed alongside him.

“I need to give you your other one back,” he heard her say as he pushed open the door.

“My other what?” he asked.

“Your hoodie,” she pointed to his chest which displayed his motto.

“Oh. No,” Harry grinned. “That one’s yours.”

“Oh,” Amber mouthed as she slid past him into the sunshine. “If I’d known that, I would have slept in it. Hmm...think I might just do that.”

Spotting the awaiting car, Harry gently placed his hand on the small of her back until she slipped into the back seat. Then sliding in beside her, he nodded at the driver.

“Thanks for last night,” he heard her voice break the silence a few minutes into the drive.

“Don’t mention it, love.”

Harry listened to the sound of her breathing as he reached his hand across the seat to take hers. Giving it a squeeze, he leant his head back against the headrest. Shutting his eyes, his lips curled as he felt her squeeze back.

After the incident with Carter, and he’d reassured her he was gone, Harry had stayed in Amber’s room for another hour or two. Wiping her tears, he knew she was in for a long ride, though he’d hoped last night was the worst of it.

He’d nearly fallen asleep on her bed as he’d held her, waiting for her jagged breaths to even out. When they had, and he'd watched her drift into a deep slumber, he’d felt a certain calmness, much like he felt now beside her in the car.

He hated that he’d left her alone before she’d awakened, and part of him wanted to tell her as much, but it wasn’t because he’d wanted to leave. He’d had things of his own to settle before packing up for the road, and soon enough, it was time for her to leave as well.

Entering the back way through the hotel as they had quickly grown accustomed, Harry rode the lift up with Amber to her floor. Though Jeffrey hadn’t mentioned it since they’d arrived, Harry still felt the need to look out for her. Watching her pull out her key, he giggled when she let out a big, long yawn.

“Told ya I’m exhausted,” she blinked with heavy eyelids.

“Go to bed, sleepyhead,” he commanded, unlocking the door for her.

“Which one’s your room?” she asked when she entered. “I mean, in case I need you.”

Harry pointed to the ceiling with a frown.

“Oh,” Amber rolled her eyes. “Of course. Mr. Penthouse.”

“Heyyy.”

Amber feigned a pout, playfully poking him in the side. Leaning against the door, Harry licked his lips as Amber headed straight for the bed. It took all his power and restraint to not take another step further into the room, the need to comfort her aching through his core.

“I’m inviting you now, so you don’t get mad later and say I didn’t.”

“Inviting me to what?” Amber asked, pulling down the bedding.

“Dinner.”

Looking up with wide eyes, Amber dropped the extra pillows on the floor. “Oh. Yay! With you and Jeff?”

“No…” Harry looked down at his hands and tugged at his rings. “Just me.”

“Ohh,” Amber murmured softly as she walked around the bed and stepped closer to him. “Double yay. What time?”

“Whenever you wake up from your nap. You’ll be hungry, yeah?”

Amber nodded emphatically. “Definitely.”

“Good,” Harry grinned. “Just call or text when you’re ready.”

“What if I sleep forever?”

His lips spread wider as he felt a tiny flutter in his chest. Where the hell did that come from?

“I don’t mind waiting,” he admitted.

And somehow, he knew in that moment, that it was the absolute truth. In more ways than one.

Amber sat on the edge of the bed, her eyes red from crying for the last hour. The gentle touch of Carter’s hand on her back soothed her as she took in deep breaths. She felt as though a huge weight had been lifted from her shoulders, while she also worried that perhaps she shouldn’t have revealed everything to her drummer.

“It’s gonna be okay,” she heard Carter murmur.

Turning her head, she looked at his sincere face before he leaned in and kissed her lips softly. Maybe she hadn’t made a mistake in telling him.

“And I want you to know, Ambs,” he continued, “that I’ll never tell another living soul what you just told me. As long as I live.”

“Promise?” she asked with jagged breaths.

Carter lifted his hand to brush away a fallen strand of hair from her face. Looking her in the eye, he nodded.

“I promise, babe. It’s not my secret to tell, anyway.”

“And…” Amber swallowed, “you don’t judge me?”

“God, no, Ambs,” Carter scowled. “I’m actually glad you told me. It...makes me feel closer to you, if that makes sense.”

With a deep sigh, Amber lifted her arms to wrap them around Carter, pressing her face into his shoulder.

“Thank you,” she mumbled against his t-shirt.

“I’m here for you, Amber,” he declared. “Even if...if it has to be just you and me. No one else needs to know, because I’ll take care of you.”

Amber awoke to several text notifications. With a smile on her lips, she rubbed her eyes and sat up on the bed, hoping at least one was from Harry, even though he’d told her to text him. Much to her dismay, however, the first notification was a long text from Carter.

Amber, I know you don’t wanna talk to me, she read, immediately closing the text.

“You’re right, I don’t,” she said aloud.

The second text was from her mother.

Just checking in. Call or text me when you get a chance.

Giving Pauline a quick reply, she told her she was headed out to dinner, and that she would call her as soon as she was free. At the end, she added that all was well. Though it was a white lie, she didn’t want her mother to worry.

The final text was fortunately from Harry. Her smile returned as she read his words.

I’ve decided to have dinner delivered to my room. Come on up when you’re ready.

Hastily typing on her phone, Amber texted him back to let him know she just woke up and would be there in a few.

I’ve just ordered. Take your time :).

With her tummy already doing somersaults at the idea of having dinner alone with Harry in his penthouse suite, Amber tossed the sheets aside and pulled off the Treat People With Kindness hoodie she’d slept in, opting for a quick shower. While she would have normally waited until after having eaten, the last thing she wanted was to show up at his door stinking to high heaven. Not that she particularly had B.O...but still.

Dressing in her most comfortable jeans with a tee and her favorite oatmeal colored cardigan, Amber spritzed herself lightly with perfume and stepped into a pair of flats. Pressing the button at the elevators, she heard a voice call her name.

“Hey, Amber, how’s it goin’?”

Twirling around, she smiled when she saw Mally, Sarah and Mitch coming towards her.

“Hey, guys. Just going to grab some dinner.”

“Oh, us too,” said Mally. “Do you wanna join us?”

“Um…” Amber hesitated. “Sorry, I actually have plans. Maybe next time?”

“Of course.”

Stepping onto the open elevator, Amber saw Mally hold the door before she frowned, feeling a little embarrassed.

“Oh Mal, I think she’s going up,” Sarah commented, saving the day.

“Oh!” Mally looked up at the light above the doors. “Dang, I’m sorry.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” Amber gave a wavering smile. “See you before the show, okay?”

“You got it, babe,” Mally winked.

As the doors shut, Amber swallowed hard. She’d already decided she liked Mally. He seemed like a nice and decent guy, and he was one hell of a musician. But the last thing she needed was another drummer who called her babe.

Her thoughts momentarily - and undesirably - floated to Carter, and had it not been for the delicious aroma wafting through the open doors, she might not have noticed the elevator had stopped. Stepping out into the small foyer, she saw a man in a black vest pushing an empty cart her way. He gave her a short nod before backing into the elevator, the doors closing quietly.

“Oh, hey, you’re here. Come in, love.”

Her gaze shifting back to the open doors, Amber caught sight of a very cozy-looking Harry, clad in black sweats and a gray hoodie, his curls damp from his own apparent shower. Crossing the threshold, she took in the view of the nearby table, decked out with two place settings, candles aglow in the center. Amber wasn’t sure which of the two visions pleased her more.

“Have a seat,” she heard him say.

Blinking, she looked at Harry, then back at the table, finally choosing the chair on the right. She stared at the plate in front of her, a chicken breast covered in mushroom sauce, cheesy potatoes and asparagus that all looked and smelled delicious.

“Now, I wasn’t quite sure,” Harry announced, “but I got a bottle of wine if you wanted a glass. You certainly don’t have to partake, though.”

It was only then that Amber noticed the chill, ambient music, coming from where she wasn’t sure. It only added to the atmosphere with the early evening overcast light streaming through the sheer curtains, and Harry’s intoxicating scent as he stood next to her.

“God, Harry,” she muttered, her eyes still on her plate.

“Hmm?”

Raising her head, she saw him lift his eyebrows in question, the bottle in his hand as he uncorked it.

“I...wasn’t expecting all this.”

“What? It’s just dinner, love,” he smirked and poured a tiny bit of the red liquid into a glass. “You have to eat, right?”

“Well, it’s not my usual kind of dinner, so...thank you.”

Leaving the glass next to her plate, Harry poured himself another, much more full glass and took the seat across from her.

“How was your nap?” he inquired.

“Amazing,” she sighed. “And much needed. I think if my stomach hadn’t been growling, I might’ve kept sleeping.”

Harry smiled, lifting his wine glass. “Well, I would have missed your company, but I’d have understood. Cheers?”

Amber shifted her gaze between her wine and water glasses, finally opting for the wine. Sharing the small cocktail with Harry before the show the previous night hadn’t affected her in any negative way, so she figured this one wouldn’t either. Besides, she appreciated that while he’d only poured her a small amount, he’d also given her the option.

“Cheers,” she echoed with a grin, tapping her glass against Harry’s.

Taking a slow sip, she set it down to grab her fork and knife, ready to dive into the delicious looking chicken.

“So, how do you like Mally so far?” Harry asked.

“Oh. He’s great. Such a great drummer. And he seems very nice. I think it might work out, but I guess we’ll see tonight,” she said with wide, excited eyes.

“He is a nice guy,” Harry agreed. “Met him a couple years ago at a party. He and his wife.”

“Oh, he’s married? I didn’t know that.”

“Yeah. She’s lovely as well. Tamara I think is her name. Though she goes by Tam.”

“Mal and Tam,” Amber mused. “That’s cute.”

“And they have the cutest kids,” Harry added with a chuckle. “I’m sure he’ll start pulling out the pictures soon.”

After a few minutes of silence except for the sounds of chewing and swallowing, Amber decided to ask a question.

“What kind of party was it?”

“Sorry?”

“Where you met Mally. Was it a music thing?”

“Um...no,” Harry shook his head and wiped his mouth with the cloth napkin. “It was...a Hollywood party.”

“Oh,” Amber nodded, thinking about his answer. “Oh. You were with Iris then.”

“Yeah.”

Amber stared across the table as Harry dug into his own dish. She would have made another rabbit joke, but curiosity and compassion overrode her desire for humor.

“You know, Harry...you told me you’re a great listener. I am too.”

She watched his chest rise and fall before he laid down his fork and took a sip of wine.

“I’m sorry, Amber. It’s just...not really something I care to talk about right now.”

“I see.”

A slight smirk twitched his lips as he replaced his glass. “Perhaps I’ll tell you all about it one day. Right about the time you’re ready to divulge your past with Carter.”

Trying not to let his words sting, she understood his need for privacy.

“Fair enough,” she agreed.

“How about we discuss something pleasant? I remember you mentioning your family. Your baby sister. What about your mum?”

Amber shrugged, jabbing her fork into her chicken. “My mom lives in Georgia. With Laci. Her name is Pauline. She actually texted me while I was sleeping. I told her I’d call later. I’ve been slacking off a little in that department.”

“Ah, keeping in touch with your mum is important,” Harry remarked. 

“Yeah I know,” Amber agreed. “Are you very close with yours?”

A wide smile spread across his face, his dimples on full display. “You really haven’t dug up that much on me, have you?”

“Why, was I supposed to?”

A loud chuckle bounced around the room, and Amber felt herself blush. “No. I just reckoned you’d heard about my fabulous mum. And my sister.”

“Oh wait, I think I have,” confessed Amber. “What’s her name again?”

“Gemma. And my mum’s Anne Twist.”

“That’s right! That does sound familiar. I’m sorry, Harry. Other than your music, and a little bit about One Direction, I haven’t really been keeping up. I guess I...just don’t like the idea of snooping into celebrities’ personal lives.”

“That’s fine. And commendable actually,” Harry said.

“Plus...I guess I’ve just been so busy with the band that I haven’t been paying much attention to anything else.” With a pause, she remembered something that made her giggle. “I did see the One Direction movie, though. With my cousin, Faith.”

“Ah, then you have seen my mum,” Harry commented. “She’s in it.”

“Oh! Of course! The gorgeous brunette lady!” exclaimed Amber with wide eyes.

“That’s her.”

Amber sat back in her chair, her eyes taking in Harry’s face. “No wonder…” she muttered.

The dimples made a momentary reappearance as Harry lifted his fork to his mouth, his eyes dancing.

“Well, I love my mom,” Amber circled back around, “and I miss her. But I don’t miss Perry.”

“Perry?”

“That’s the podunk town I’m from.”

“Oh,” Harry chuckled, no doubt at her descriptive word. “What about your dad?”

Amber frowned, dropping her shoulders. Taking a moment to linger, not sure how to answer the loaded question, she sipped on her red wine, letting it coat her throat. Then setting down the glass, she fingered the cloth napkin in her lap.

“My dad and I...don’t have the best relationship. He and my mom split when I was a little girl. I would see him on weekends until I got to high school. Then it turned into once in a while, and finally not at all.”

“I’m sorry,” Harry said sincerely though his expression was stoic. “I understand.”

Resuming his chewing, Harry didn’t ask any more questions, much to Amber’s relief. While she definitely was not in the mood to discuss her history with Carter, she was also not ready to go down the father route either. Like Harry had said...maybe one day. But today was not that day.

After dinner, Harry invited Amber to join him on the sofa where he grabbed his guitar and quietly began to strum, the lo-fi music now extinguished. Almost like clockwork, the man from earlier returned to collect the dirty dishes, placing them on the cart before leaving once again. Amber watched him from the corner of her eye, though she didn’t question it aloud. Things like that she knew she could get used to, though she would never take for granted, and knowing Harry for the short time she had, she figured he didn’t either.

When Harry began to play chords to a song she knew well, she sat up with delight, a smile beaming on her face.

“You know my songs!” she exclaimed with joy.

“Just the one,” Harry grinned shyly. “And a wee bit of another one. That song you sing acoustically until the band kicks in.”

“Oh my gosh,” Amber placed her hand on her chest. “I’d love to hear you play it.”

“Actually, I was rather hoping you would.”

Sucking in her lips, Amber tried not to blush as Harry handed her his guitar. Tossing the strap over her head, she rested the six string on her knee before taking the pick from him. Then plucking the strings, she gently began to sing her own song - one that was near and dear to her heart. When she reached the part where the band would usually kick in, Harry began to sing harmonies, lightly tapping his hands on his thighs. Amber couldn’t help the elation she felt rising in her chest as she watched him, the sound they made together echoing through the suite. As the song began to build, the emotion did too, and she felt a tiny tear trickle down her cheek. When she finished the final chord, her voice ringing out long after the vibrato was complete, she exhaled slowly, holding the guitar neck with one hand as she wiped the tear with the other.

“Absolutely beautiful,” Harry affirmed, his voice warm and syrupy.

“Whew,” Amber sounded. “Thanks. I haven’t sung it that way in...a long time.”

“I reckon that’s how it should be sung. I mean...if I’m allowed to say.”

“Really?”

Harry shrugged. “I just felt that a little more - the emotion coming from you. I like the other way too, with the band. But I think you may want to consider performing it acoustically sometime. Just you and the guitar.”

Amber bit her lip. She had considered that, in fact, when she’d first written it. “It was...Carter’s idea to do it that way, with the band. He said it sounded too sleepy and desperate the other way.”

Harry hummed, and even without the eye roll that Amber knew he was holding back, his opinion was clear. Removing the strap, Amber handed him his guitar and pick, pushing her hair from her face.

“I guess I should probably go,” she announced. “It’s about time to get to the venue.”

“Thank you for joining me, Amber,” said Harry as he rested his guitar against the arm of the couch. “It was a lovely dinner.”

“God, no, thank you! For inviting me, and for the delicious meal and...everything.” Amber rose from the sofa before Harry could protest, reaching the double doors that the waiter (or whomever he was) had shut behind him.

“Well, you’re very welcome,” she heard him say behind her before he came to rest his palm against the closed door. “Amber.”

“Hmm?” she asked, lifting her head to meet his green eyes. As usual, she found herself wanting to swim in them, and she knew she could have if he hadn’t spoken again.

“Are you doing okay?” With the tenderness of a dove, he placed his hand on her arm, where her bruise still lay hiding beneath her cardigan.

“Of course.”

“I mean, I know it’s only been a day. Not even twenty-four hours yet. But I just wanna make sure you’re-”

“I’ll be fine, Harry,” Amber interrupted in haste. Then looking down at her hands she picked at her nearly gone nail polish. “You’ve helped a lot, really. Everything you’ve done for me has helped me in...more ways that I can express.”

“Good, I’m glad.”

“I have to be honest with myself though,” Amber added. “And with you. I know I’m not completely okay yet. It’s gonna take a while. But I’ll be fine. As long as you’re here.”

Without really meaning to, Amber lifted her other hand to cover Harry’s that had remained on her arm. Giving it a squeeze, she let it go and turned the doorknob, her eyes still lost in his.

“I’ll see you backstage,” she said softly.

“Yeah,” Harry nodded. “See ya in a bit.”

Turning for the elevator, Amber pressed the button, whispering one last goodbye before stepping inside. Feelings and emotions surrounded her as her stomach seemed to float while the elevator descended. Taking a deep breath, she returned to her room. Having left her phone there, she decided to check for any new messages. But all that had been added were more from a name she no longer wished to see printed on the screen.

“God, why can’t you leave me alone?” she groaned.

Sitting down on the bed, she was prepared to block his number, but once again, curiosity got the better of her, and she began to read.

Amber, I know you don’t wanna talk to me. But I hope you’ll at least read this. Because I have a lot to say.

I want you to remember how we used to be. How you used to come crying to me, or knocking on my door in the middle of the night because you were scared or lonely. You needed me, Amber. And you still need me. And I think you know that. No matter what you say, we belong together.

I know more about you than anybody. I get you. You said so yourself. How can you just throw that away? How can you kick me out of the band when we built it together? I don’t understand, Amber.

And then when I came to talk to you last night, you had Styles in your room, and you wouldn’t even talk to me! You seem to be all over him now. How do you think that makes me feel? That’s why I got angry. God Amber, I gave you everything! I didn’t wanna hurt you. I never meant to hurt you. I thought it was just you and me. I thought you wanted that.

Please talk to me, babe. Please let me back in. I miss you. I miss us. Please. I know you miss me too.

Wiping the tears from her eyes that she’d just realized had fallen, Amber read the last text that he’d sent just recently, most likely when she was in Harry’s room.

Fine. I see now. Thanks for making me look like a fucking fool, Amber. I can’t believe I ever cared, because you obviously never cared about me. Have a good life.

Clearing her throat, Amber tossed her phone onto her bed and let herself weep. Big, angry tears came falling down her cheeks, landing in her lap and on her favorite sweater. She cried for several minutes, letting all of her emotions free, like an exorcism.

The hardest part of all, she admitted to herself, was that Carter was right. He was right about a lot of things. They had built the band together. She had come to his room crying when she needed someone. He did know more about her than anyone. And she had needed him.

But not anymore. He was no longer in the band. She no longer ran to his room in the middle of the night. So what if he knew her secrets? He didn’t own her. And she most definitely didn’t need him.

Not anymore.

Rising from the bed, she went to the bathroom and grabbed several tissues to blow her nose and wipe her eyes. Then grabbing her phone from the bed, she tossed it into her handbag on the way out the door.

Right after blocking Carter’s number.

The energy felt different. Amber couldn’t quite put a finger on it, but somehow the buzz from the crowd seemed electric. She could sense it throughout the entire arena, like the feeling that people were actually there for her, and excited to see her perform.

The first song went off perfectly, the audience cheering louder than she’d remembered from previous shows. When she turned and saw Mally counting off the second song, she beamed with delight, thrilled to play her newest single with her new drummer.

It was after the third song that she finally felt the tension release from her body. Not the nerves from playing in front of a large crowd, nor the nerves from playing with a new drummer. But the tension from the last twenty-four hours - or rather, the last couple years.

Pausing to introduce the next song, Amber had an idea. Stepping closer to the drum kit, she waved over Brendan and Johnny.

“Hey guys. I know this is last minute. But remember when I used to sing this song acoustically?”

“Yeah, you wanna try it now?” asked Johnny incredulously.

“Do you mind? I mean, can you back me up if it goes wrong? Step in if I flub it all to shit?”

“Shit yeah, Ambs!” exclaimed Brendan.

Looking up at Mally, Amber saw him give her an assuring wink. “Got your back, babe.”

Sucking in her lips, Amber turned back toward the mic, gingerly strumming the opening chords.

“So this is one of my favorite songs,” she announced. “On the record, it’s got the full band, but...tonight I’d like to sing it the way it was written.”

The crowd cheered as she took a deep breath.

“This is for someone special,” she added.

When her set was over, Amber felt elated, energized, exhilarated, exhausted....and any other word she could think of that started with E. Stepping into the wings, she caught sight of the shadow before his arms wrapped her into a warm hug.

“I’ve never been more proud,” he murmured against her hair.

“That was for you,” she declared against his chest.

Pulling back, Harry lifted her chin to look at him. His eyes dancing, even in the dim lights, he brought his other hand up to cup her cheek, his calloused fingers giving her goosebumps.

“No, my love,” he shook his head. “That was all for you.”

taglist: @freedomfireflies, @daphnesutton

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[jungle-angel]

Little Drummer Boy (Bob Floyd x Reader)

Summary: An age old tradition makes the best memories for you, Bob and your family

Note: Inspired by the music video for King and Country’s version of one of my favorites. I’ll post the link for it here, guys this video absolutely blew my mind and all I could think of watching it was Lewis.

Tagging: @fanboygarcia @rhettabbotts @nobody7102 and @sebsxphia​ guys I really hope you like this, it’s been sitting in the back of my brain for a while now (Sebbie, I still owe you those asks which will be done in no time at all, lol). 

“Auggie!” Bob called from the top of the basement stairs. “August Robert, come on up here! Mimi and Papa have a surprise for you!” 

Auggie came bounding up the basement stairs from where he, Patrick and his cousins had been playing beanbag toss, nearly losing his tiny wireframe glasses in the process. Unfortunately, his footsteps were more akin to Rooster’s, loud and stomping as he ran up the stairs and into the kitchen. 

“Auggie, walking feet please,” you told him sternly. “Rudy just fell asleep.” 

“Sorry Momma,” Auggie whispered. 

“C’mere bud,” Joe told him before he and Mickey had finished re-arranging a few of the Christmas ornaments on the tree. “We got you something for tonight.” 

Auggie jumped and clapped his little hands together. It wasn’t often that Bob’s parents got to spoil the ever living shit out of their grandkids, but when they did, the kids were more than happy and grateful for it, especially around this time of year. 

Auggie gave his grandfather a huge hug before he opened the present, you, Bob and the rest of the Dagger Squad watching to see his reaction. 

Those big blue eyes behind his little glasses went even wider when he saw what lay within the shiny green and red paper. It was a little wood and canvas drum that was the perfect size for Auggie, complete with a set of sticks that weren’t too big or too small, made from birch wood that was nearly white. 

“THANK YOU PAPA!!!” Auggie nearly screamed as he hugged his grandfather again. 

“That’s from me, Momma, your dad, Mimi and Grandpa Birdy,” Joe chuckled. “And it’s for you to play tonight during the walk.” 

Auggie was excited beyond words as he ran to put his drum and drumsticks upstairs in his bedroom, his little feet thundering up the stairs along with Nicky, Pete, Tiago and TJ. 

“Man I have never seen a kid that excited before,” Payback laughed. 

“Oh believe me, if you gave him a banana for Christmas, he’d be just as happy,” you laughed. 

Bob kissed your cheek and gently scratched Rudy’s soft little hand with his fingertips. “I hope he comes back down soon,” Bob said. “We still have to make sure Nestor’s settled for tonight.” 

“He will be,” you told him. “There’s nothing the little guy can’t face.” 

A smile broke out on Bob’s face. “You’re right,” he chuckled. “I’ve seen him pull a plow three times his size and he’s still got enough energy in him to keep going.” 

You put Rudy upstairs in the crib where Rudy and Mickey’s daughter would be sleeping for the next few days, before you, Bob, Mickey and Joe headed out into the snow to the barn where all the critters had been sheltered from the freezing cold of the day and night.

Down the row of stables and pens you went until you came to one near where Thunder, Bob’s mustang, was munching away at the hay in his trough, until you found the one belonging to Nestor. 

The grey and brown donkey lay asleep in the hay, perking up his long, pointy ears when Bob whistled for him to come. Out of the pocket of his Carhardt jacket, he pulled a few sprigs of peppermint from Irene’s indoor garden box before Nestor munched it right from the palm of his hand. 

“He’s got a long walk ahead of him tonight,” you remarked, petting his short, fuzzy little snout. 

“That’s nothing,” Mickey said, laughing a little. “When Abuelo Pedro was growing up in Mexico, the whole town used to walk up the steep hills where the church was.” 

“Every year?” Bob asked him. 

“Every year on Christmas Eve and every Sunday,” Mickey explained. “Christmas Eve, they’d each light a candle and carry it with them while they walked up the hills with the rest of the group at midnight.” 

You and Bob listened with awe as Mickey told about the deep seeded family traditions of Mickey’s family, tracing them from the mountains of Colombia and eventually to Mexico City. Now that you and Bob would be experiencing it for yourselves, it lit a new fire of excitement in the both of you. 

***********************

Christmas Eve

Cheyenne Falls, OK

Floyd Ranch

“You gonna be warm (y/n)?” Bob asked as he placed Rudy in your warms, the newborn comfortably swaddled in Joe’s Indian blanket. 

“I’ll be perfectly fine,” you told him. “Besides, this little guy is the one I’m most worried about.” 

Bob smiled as he kissed Rudy’s delicate little head and placed his little blue pacifier in his mouth. “His first Christmas and he gets to rest in the little manger at the church,” Bob half laughed. “Lucky him.” 

“Hey you did it too, remember?” you chuckled. 

“Oh you’ve been listening to my mom and my gram’s horror stories again, haven’t you?” Bob laughed, unable to control the grin that broke out on his face. 

You kissed him sweetly on the lips, adjusting Rudy in your arms so that he would stay warm. “C’mon,” you said. “Everybody’s waiting.” 

You and Bob all went down to meet the rest of the family, each one of them prepared to play their part in the Christmas walk. Auggie stood in front of Hangman, bouncing on his heels with excitement and chattering away with his godfather. 

“Ya know Boob, every year since I was this kiddo’s age it’s the same,” Hangman remarked. “I always end up playing a wise man in the Christmas pageant.” 

“Wise ass is more like it,” Bob chuckled. 

Hangman blew him a raspberry and so didn’t Auggie. 

“Hey, you’d better behave yourself good sir,” Bob warned him. “Otherwise you’re going on Santa’s naughty list.” 

“Yes Daddy,” Auggie chirped, straightening himself up.

The chatter died down as soon as Mickey’s grandparents, Pedro and Alma, entered the room, motioning for everyone to come gather around, linking their hands as Abuelo Pedro said a quick Hail Mary for a safe journey. 

Outside everyone went where Joe had readied Nestor with his little saddle. Bob helped you up, making sure that Rudy was safe, the both of you quickly quieting the cry that escaped his throat. Pedro and Alma helped each person in the group light the fat tapers they held in their hands, some red, pink, blue, purple, gold and green. 

“Shall we go?” Alma asked. 

Auggie stood beside her and the others at the front, Bob holding Nestor’s bridle as the others followed close behind. Auggie began to play, unable to resist the thought of doing so. He looked up at Alma before she smiled down at him, laughing a little as she remembered Mickey doing the same thing when he had been Auggie’s age. 

It wasn’t long before you heard Bob’s voice singing those familiar words, the others joining in along with you, your voices becoming nearly one as they sang the tale of the little boy who had nothing to give, save for the beautiful music he made with his simple drum. 

Other families, many of them Joe and Irene’s neighbors, had come to join the group, shutting their doors with a candle or a lantern in their hands. The Changs and their four grown sons climbed over the fence, Ali and Noor El Bisi following behind them with a lantern that Ali’s father had brought with him from Egypt, the Whittaker’s and their brood of twelve, the eldest in college and the youngest barely a toddler. So many families from far corners of the world and all walks of life, joined you and the rest of the squad, journeying through the cold and snow to the edge of the town where St. Michael’s Church had stood since the early days of the wild west, built by the hands of the Irish, Italians, Germans and so many others who had come to find shelter in the prairie hills. 

Your eyes looked down at Rudy as you sang, yours and Bob’s precious newborn, fast asleep as the choir of voices sang along with yours. Your eyes soon met Bob’s, that same loving look that never left his eyes since the two of you had gotten married.

At last the huge stone church came into view, tall and looming, the lights visible in the stained glass windows as onlookers had gathered to watch and take pictures or short videos, all of them in awe of the voices that sang across the hills in the dark, your faces illuminated only by the light of the flames that flickered from the candle wicks. 

Near the doors of the church, you could see Father Gonzales, the grandfather of one of Auggie’s classmates, a huge smile on his face and yours growing broader knowing that you and Bob were surrounded by the people you loved the most. 

“Merry Christmas Bob,” you whispered to him. “I love you.” 

“I love you too sweetheart,” he whispered back. “Merry Christmas.” 

That night, you said a silent “thank you” for the family you had and the people who had made your life worth living. 

[dollarbin]

Shakey Sundays #26:

Tuscaloosa

My buddy Greg has a screw loose. He opined in a recent email stream that he preferred Eddie Vedder's vocals to Kurt Cobain's. This was part of a longer Nerd Club level discussion involving my famous brother focused in on Jackson C. Frank's palpable merits alongside Sandy Denny's transcend ones, as discussed in yesterday's post.

Greg thinks Sandy is too operatic; like I said, he's all jam packed into a Costco sized bin of mixed nuts.

I like my women divine (see Denny, Sandy, Ronstadt, Linda and wife, mine) and my men pedestrian (that's me, in all things). And so I prefer warped but playable records and I prefer Neil Young when he's altered on stage.

And that brings us to Tuscaloosa, Shakey's alternative to Time Fades Away, which came out 5 or so years ago. I picked up my first vinyl copy this weekend while on holybobs for the very Dollar Bin price of just $14.99 because, you guessed it, "LP2 Warped - Plays Fine" was scrawled beside the price tag.

I've had plenty of chances to buy a pristine copy for $30-$40 any day of the week in the past few years but I never even considered it. After all, I've always had the album ready to rock on my trusty Steve-Jobs-was-still-alive-and-grumpy era IPod, and so I held out for an ugly cousin copy instead of every minty record out there.

Why own something normal and new when you could own something compromised and helpless? Well, there's the whole I'm-a-cheapskate angle, sure; I do like my gin generic.

But there's another reason in my back pocket, a reason which is hopefully more interesting. You see, my warped copy of Tuscaloosa was so sad in its bin; it longed for companionship; it longed to spin on the turntable of life. But just like me in every elementary school sports side picking process, it just kept getting passed on by.

David Berman understood this whole gesture and explained it better in song than I ever could here in print. Like poor old Dave, I can't stand handsome grandsons; give me the fat ones, the bald and the goateed.

Eddie Vedder? Yuck. The guy sounds like he once took a singing lesson; plus he looks like the grown up version of every fifth grader who sighed and said, "well, I guess you're on our team; but don't get in the way" when all the side picking was done.

Give me poor old Kurt's tortured pain and voice cracks every day of the week.

And give me Tuscaloosa! Neil is hammered and stumbling throughout, searching for vaguely familiar notes and just barely holding it together.

Just check out After the Gold Rush. Neil dedicates the song to the groundlings in the cheap seats, blows more than a few of the opening chords and then announces that "Drummond's drumming" instead of "drummers drumming". His bass player on the tour was named Tim Drummond so the confusion is reasonable; no, never mind that: his confusion is awesome!

The song's whole performance is wrecked and staggering. Between the second and third verses it sounds like Neil loses the thread altogether. I love this take as much as I love my sad new vinyl copy. Warped: that's what I like.

But perhaps the least slick and most loveable part of the whole show is Neil's attempt at building a musical intro for the band. Take a listen:

They never do get the tempo right... But, like Neil's famous handwriting, perfect has no place on Planet Shakey.

Young was famously disgusted with this whole band and tour. He fired the Chewbacca of all drummers, Kenny Buttrey, soon after this show and replaced him with a guy from The Turtles. He then did his best to write off the whole experience by refusing for a long time to reissue Time Fades Away.

I feel for him. But at the same time, I really don't care: I'm too busy sitting on my rented ocean view porch and grooving to Tuscaloosa.

What's the best part of my view, you ask? Check out all the stunted trees and the uncut wild grasses that are blocking the postcard perfect view...

I'm in a Shakey house and on a Shakey vacation. And it's perfect.

[angelictwitch]

Yes, the first years in the church were amazing and the role as “The Reverend” suited me’s better and better as time passed. At the same time the list of names I’s left a mark on grew longer and longer… It was hard for most people to resist my charm anyway, so I’s came to the point, that I’s didn't hold back anymore. But somehow the more people I’s made scream my name in one way or the other, the less I’s could stand my the thoughts in my own head. At some point it got so bad I’s tried some pills against it, since the alcohol didn’t completely work anymore… I’s thought it couldn’t get any further downward at this point… Naive thinking.

It was another Saturday night, that meant prime time in the church of Lush. The queue outside was as long as every weekend and the great hall was filled with shouting and cheering in the process. Meanwhile in the backstage area, the band got ready in their own ways: “Alright everything is ready… except one thing” Michael looked around sighing, it wasn’t the first time that their front man was the last to show up, even though he was literally living the closest to the place: ‘Twitchy boy is late again! Fucking fantastic!’ Frank complained loudly while trying out his drumsticks on the table in the room: “I should give him a call maybe…” the moment the tall one pulled out his mobile, the door to the backstage room flung open: °Hey guys~ soooorry for dat I’s lost track of time…*hic* again…° Twitch held on to the doorframe, his sunglasses on his nose like it was the middle of the day still: “You are wasted already… Strych you can’t play like that!” - °Oh no no - I’s MUST play like dat hehe° the blonde one chuckled pulling out a little bag out of his coats pocket: °Y’know I’s can always adjust my’s mood a little into every direction with the help of this and dat~ ° - “...whatever floats your boat dude…” - ‘Enough chit-chat! Let’s go already!’ the drummer rushed past the intoxicated frontman onto the stage that was still in the dark followed by Michael who turned to Twitch: “Just be careful with the man… there is always another way, okay?” the bassist put his hand shortly on the blonde's shoulder before leaving as well: °…Sure thing Mikey boy …° Twitch waited a moment before swallowing one of the pills he had shown before and let the rest slip back into the pocket, after that he joined the rest on the stage in the first row were he belonged for some years now. °Showtime…° he stepped to the mic stand taking a deep breath: °Weeeeeelcome to this nights mess my’s little lambs~ are you ready to let your sins be forgiven by your Reverend??° as the lights turned on the crowd went wild with excitement, the next thing that followed was the voice of the drummer counting the band in starting off the party just right.

Mhm those were the good nights yes… at least in my’s memories of it huh… it was mostly the same but always so unique to the people in the crowd. They all came to see us play, to have a good time with drinks and friends, to see me’s doing the best I’s could. I’s was so happy with that or at least I’s thought so for some time.

The good thing about the place where the many rooms in it with plenty of space to crash in after a alcohol filled night, people could rest easy knowing they had a bed to crash in and some other had the luck not crashing alone there. Even others had the chance to end up being a “trophy” to a certain angel searching for his fix after the show in the king size bed, which was located in the big office on the upper floor. People sure had the time of their lives coming to the “holy messes” everyone did… and mostly the Reverend himself - at least that was what everybody was thinking, seeing him all natural wrapping the masses around his finger in every show. In reality it was just another way to make himself get distracted from what was lurking inside.

Twitch was woken up by a ray of sunshine stealing itself through the curtains onto his face: °…Oh shit my’s head…° the angel growled sitting up: °Morning again -rise and fucking shine Twitch-° he faked a sarcastic smile to himself since his two roommates for the night were still asleep right next to him. He sighed putting the covers over the two naked trophies still resting from what happened last night, then got up and got dressed followed by a quick check in a little book on the big wooden working table in the same room, since his own memory wasn’t to be trusted anymore, he kept track of his appointments in written form for some time now. °Let’s see… sunday…that’s today?° the blonde one bit his lips before closing the book again: °…I’s need to shower…and a drink… or something stronger.° he whispered to himself before going to the bathroom to get somehow ready for the outside world, he got dressed but this time in a somewhat normal looking outfit for his standards. Twitch quickly left the place only taking a pair of sunglasses and his wallet with him, he only stopped by a small flower shop before making his way to the town’s graveyard. It was still pretty early for his normal wake up times, so there were not many people around by now. He couldn’t stand being alone but this time was just different. The angel stopped in front of a marble tombstone putting the flowers in front of it and sat down a bit further in front of it with a tired smile: °Hey mom… long time not talked haha…° he had forgotten about this anniversary, he liked to make himself forget things on purpose, but he couldn’t get rid of those memories: °I’s had another show last night! The people sure love me’s still , it's amazing! … Well that’s at least what I’s think is the case…° the angel felt his eyes getting watery and he was glad being alone this time: °I’s feel so fuckin’ lost, mom… what should I’s d-do i-it’s so hard. N-nobody really knows what’s going on inside me’s…° in this moment the sunny boy lost all of this charm and kindness, only leaving behind a tired looking man without a real clue what to do with himself in this world: °Everyday’s the same I’s can't even tell which day of the week we have anymore… Nothing really matters to me’s anymore… I’s so tired of all this bullshit.° Twitch held his face in his hands trying to calm himself somehow but failed: °I’s miss you’s so bad… I’s need your help down here… at least some guidance!° - “I am sorry that, I couldn’t give you that Strych…” The angel looked up and shocked, he hadn't expected an answer to that. °H-Huh?° - “Up here baby bro…” Wilhelm was standing behind him, wearing all black and sunglasses, holding on to a bouquet of flowers as well, after he put those down he pulled up his angel counterpart up into a hug just remaining silent for sometime until the weeping angel was alright to leave again.

[sluttery-withoutshame]

One of these people aged and one didn’t.

@mindofotherstars suggested Nick could carry Eric on his shoulders now.

Just like Daddy did.

[callmeghoulshit]

I want to know about all your OCs pls ❤️

For Kai: 🥊🌂

For Tyler: 🙌 💼

For Kit: 🌺🍕

For Mikaela: 🧠🧊

For Rylan: 🎯🍀

For Azazel: 🎓🌼

For Dante: 💼💀

For Fae: ✂️ 💚

(let me know when you regret letting me ask so many questions 😈)

ajdhsjfhd Shakeyyyy you don't understand how happy this makes meeeee<3

Main bit of context:

They're a found family who have lived together since the age of 12, when I refer to "the house" it's in reference to the 8 of them, they are also a famous band. It becomes easier to understand when you realise I'm in this world practically 24/7 and you gotta make a lotta leaps in logic to have everything fit together.

Buckle up my little bitch (affectionate) 1.5k words under the cut that took me over an hour to write

Kai:

What do they love to do? What do they hate to do?

Kai loves being the nail tech of the house. It wasn't what people expected of him, but he started trying to help his girlfriend Mikaela with her nails, which then evolved into him learning to do acrylics, and nail art, and manicures and pedicures. And now he has a little pocket sized notebook that he dedicates a single page to each song they have to perform and notes down what nails he'll create for kit and the girls and if the boys are having anything too.

Every morning he likes to go for a run (note:sprint at breakneck speed) from the house to the cliff that overlooks the edge of their island. Their home is connected to the mainland by a sandbar that can sometimes be submerged for days. This has been a job he's done almost since the start, to see if they can leave the island or not. If not they have to cancel any appointments until the sandbar is visible. In an emergency there is a small boat, but the water is more dangerous than it seems. He'll run to the edge, check, and then sprint back home where Fae has his typical breakfast of a bacon sandwich ready and waiting for him, and for eight years he has been shocked to see this and has never gotten used to her doing it.

Kai can sometimes hate being in the spotlight, ironic as the band bassist and one of the rappers. He'll sometimes try to shield himself behind others and typically holds his microphone with his fingers stretched over his face so as to hide himself away during his lines.

He also detests sleeping alone, mainly as it's annoying. He has to lay down, tuck the duvet around him and then scooch it up under his butt so he's firmly tucked in and then hides underneath everything. He does it as a safety measure from his past, hiding under everything so he can't be seen or grabbed. Sleeping with others means he has protection, and if Mikaela's away he'll often wear her robe to sleep.

What genre do they belong in?

All of them belong in a coming-of-age, romantic flick. However Kai, especially after examining his past, also belongs in thrillers. His pickpocketing and robberies were always full of suspense, especially as he could never trust the teams that recruited him, which always came at a cost to him.

Tyler:

How many sibling does your OC have?

As far as he (and me) is aware, he has no siblings. But I'm an unreliable narrator, and often need something dramatic to happen, so who knows?

What do they do for a living?

Tyler is the third rapper of the band and their drummer, currently. In the past he was an illegal "demolitions expert" of sorts (see how you need to ignore a lot of real world logic to make things work haha), human battering ram, human shield (against his will, poor guy) and had plenty of clientele for his knack of fashioning explosives.

Kit:

Do they have any love interest(s)?

Tyler. His protector, his lover, his sweet cheese, his good time boy, his daddy. Him and Tyler have been together for seven years. They've roomed together since the day they moved into the house, the only thing that changed was swapping two beds for one.

What is their favorite food?

Strawberries. Oh my god this kid and his strawberries. He spends his time tending to the "veg patch" and his favourite is his strawberry plants. Much like me as a kid feeding ducks, tearing off bread (I'm aware now that you can't give ducks bread I'm so sorry) and going "bit for you, bit for me", Kit picking strawberries takes a while as he picks one to go in his basket, and one for him to eat as he goes along. It's a miracle he never runs out.

Mikaela:

What do you like most about the OC?

Ooo I think it's how unapologetic and confident she is. She's so "fuck yeah this is me, and?" it's enviable. Try and insult her, I dare you. She'll fucking agree and twist your words into a compliment.

Is their current design the first one?

Technically yes, technically no. Everyone is mostly the same as they were at the beginning. Any changes either happen naturally as they grew and changed, or were just straight up shoved in as if it was always that way. But Mikaela is pretty much the same.

Rylan:

What do they do best?

Fucking own my heart Rylan is my favourite, he's been with me the longest so I'm so fucking sorry haha.

I think what he does best is pull the strings from behind. When you think of the "parents" of the house he doesn't actually make the cut, but rest assured he does so much for his family. Be it making sure everyone's clothes are folded ready to go to their rooms, buying treats and snacks and keeping them stocked, little things like smoothing clothes, fixing hair, pulling Fae's skirt down or stopping the girl's and kit's clothes from blowing in the wind by discreetly holding the hems, or slipping his (illegal) credit card to everyone so they can buy presents behind each others backs. He just cares so deeply and notices so much, he just wants to love and be loved.

What originally inspired the OC?

So Rylan was a name I read in a book as a kid (not sure which) and really liked. I couldn't have friends round as a kid so I had to play by myself and always needed a counterpart so it'd be a dude called Rylan. Then when my parents separated I started daydreaming of moving house, and of there being a rundown house at the end of the street I'd go explore, and then I'd run into a boy called Rylan hanging out in there, and get to know him and his friends and that's how the story came to be. It was meant to be a quick daydream like everything else as a kid where once the daydream ended for the day, I couldn't go back to it. Instead everything kept expanding and developed into this big world and storyline. And this didn't actually answer the question but it felt important (?)

Anyways Rylan was initially (INITIALLY) modelled after 707 from Mystic Messenger. I had never played Mystic Messenger before. Just liked how he looked. And now Rylan looks nothing like him haha we retconned the fuck outta that man.

Azazel:

How long have you had the OC?

Six and a half years I think. My brain is so scrambled and used to the fictional timeline I forget when it actually all started. I'd need to sit and write it all out haha.

How old are they?

She's in her early 20s

Dante:

What do they do for a living?

Dante is a vocalist in their band, and he used to be a drug dealer. These fuckers and the genre hopping give me whiplash istg.

Does your OC have any phobias?

I'm not too sure if this counts as a phobia but one of the big things he hates is extreme cold (fucking ironic he lives in the fucking UK then haha).

Fae:

What is one of your OC's worst memories?

Childhood. It's one of the core things that bind them is a traumatic childhood (not too sure if I'm projecting with that), they each had their own experiences, crossed paths along the way, then found each other again without even realising they'd met before.

But memories I can actually talk about without trigger warnings? Uhhhh...

that and a home invasion. She was in the kitchen and grabbed a frying pan and a knife for defense. Now Fae isn't too cool with the idea of killing a person unless she realllyyy has no choice, so she Rapunzels the fuck outta these situations and just keeps whacking them over the head with a frying pan until she can find the boys to take care of the intruders.

Another time she hates to think of was when Dante (her boyfriend) just upped and disappeared. No note, no warning. She let it eat at her so much, and was so relieved when he was found and came home. Same with Kit wandering off in the dead of night. They all went up the mountains searching for him and kept coming across his clothing meaning hypothermia was setting in and Kit is so small and frail it was a wonder to think he managed to get so far in his state. There was a lot of stress baking in the kitchen those days after her boys were safely back home.

What is your OC's gender identity and sexuality?

Fae is a cis woman, she's very femme but in a softer way than Mikaela. Her sexuality throws her off a bit, much like her boyfriend they're both straight, however with an exception for sleeping with their same sex best friend on a couple occasions.

Hahaaaaaa I don't regret asking you hehehehe I hope you regret asking me because I ramble SO MUCH IM SORRY I LOVE THEM OKAY THEY ARE LITERALLY MY LIFE

[miashyperfixations]

BETH MCCARTHY UK TOUR

19.06.2023 @ The Sunflower Lounge, Birmingham (120 Capacity)

Written June 2023

I first saw Beth play when she opened for Emlyn back in March and absolutely loved her set then, so I booked tickets for this show afterwards. 

I reached out to her via instagram around a month before the show and managed to secure work experience as she let me come and attend soundcheck to watch/observe because this is what I want to go onto in the future. I arrived at the venue a few hours before doors & by that time, they’d already set/mic’d up the drumkit but were in the process of doing everything else. This meant that I was able to watch them soundcheck to see how things operate at a small gig. I met both Beth & her drummer/MT, Michael who was her only other team member for this small tour. There was also a rep from LiveNation who was running most of it as well as the in-house sound engineer who I was able to talk to briefly.  They even had the same sound desk as the one at the college I attend so I was able to easily understand what he was saying. It gave me a lot of insight into how intimate some operations in the industry are & how simple the process can be. I was also able to help out setting up some LED lighting on stage in Beth’s signature colour, pink, & set up the merch desk in the bar above the venue, taking a stock check too. Due to my involvement in the proceedings of the day, I was given an AAA pass that was a sticker. I didn't take the back adhesive off it though, & just carried it in my pocket so I was able to keep it as a souvenir. 

One of beth’s more emotional songs is called ‘she gets the flowers’ & when we saw her in Manchester opening for Emlyn, an audience member gave her a singular flower during it & I took inspiration from this by making by making her a small bouquet of pink paper flowers in a little glass bottle with a label that had the date, venue & its size alongside a small message. I placed it in the small room at the back of the venue next to the items of her rider. When Beth noticed it right before the show, she absolutely loved it & said she was gonna keep it forever. 

Before the show, I went up into the bar above the venue to meet up with my sister & say hi to some of the audience members as they were all having drinks & mingling before doors opened. A week before the show, Beth had set up a group chat on instagram for all 3 shows & we’d all been talking for most of the week. It was cool to meet these people face to face & have a chance to talk to them before the show. The gig itself was absolutely amazing & I loved every second. The venue was so small that both Beth & her openers, Car Park, had to make their way through the crowd from the back of the room to get to the stage, but this also meant that it felt so much more intimate & set a relaxed feel. We were all able to enjoy ourselves without crushing each other & overall have a great time. Beth has plans to release songs that follow her journey of self-discovery to build up to an EP that’ll be released at the end.Starting with ‘What do you call it?’ in March, followed by ‘She’s Pretty’ in June. This meant that we were able to hear some unreleased songs, and not just the ones we heard at the Deaf Institute as ‘She’s pretty’ was one of those. After the gig, everyone went back up to the bar to continue to hang out & Beth also came up to talk to everyone & get pictures. She knew a few people that had reached out online or followed her for a while before this gig & took the time to talk to us all one by one - not just a photo & go.

This gig was even more enjoyable than most as I knew what had gone into it to make it happen & overall, the day was a fun experience as I was able to see how a gig runs & gain some more insight into all of the future career paths I'm considering. I love Beth's music and her current artistic direction so I look forward to the EP coming out soon!

[xaviermattthews]

for: @connorxrose

where: vet clinic

After a half hour in damp clothes, X had decided he couldn't stand the sensation of it for a second longer. It was on that notion that he had snuck out the back, passed the examination rooms and started a raid on the double set of lockers that he had found. It had been easy to jimmy open the right top row one, though that only contained a nasty looking pair of Croc's and some Axe body spray.

After applying some to himself, he got to work on the left locker which had been far more fruitful, locating a pair of dark navy scrubs that were a size too small for him but were dry enough for him to not care about that. He rolled up his wet jeans and t-shirt into a haphazard ball and tucked them to the side of locker to return to whenever he could actually leave the cursed clinic, his facedown iPhone's torch on the brightest setting lighting up the space for him. The one thing he cared about in all of this was his notebook, and he dared not leave it behind with the rest of his things. Instead, he tucked it into the pocket of his stolen scrubs and made it back out to where everyone else was once he retrieved his phone.

It was there that he almost ran into the one person in the building her had actively been avoiding, his former friend and Submergence's former drummer.

Motherfucker.

He could have walked around him and acted like he didn't exist, the same way they had been doing for months now, but that seemed equal parts petty and redundant when there was no clear exit in the space.

"Connor."

Honestly, being trapped outside was starting to seem like it would have been the better option for him.

"I'm two for two with getting trapped with folks in this town who can't stand me." He speaks with the assumption that Chey would have told him about that, seeing as the two of them were so tight, a fact that made his mouth taste so bitter he found himself longing for the days when he could wash it out with Jack Daniels.

[legolasghosty]

Hello, I heard you say that people don't send you many asks anymore, that needs to be changed immediately!!

Can I request a high school au with sticky notes? Something short and fluffy?

Okay, love you, byeeee!!! 💖💖💖

Gentlepeople of the world, may I present my lovely fiance? I love you so muchhhh! Thank youuuu! And yes of course you may! I love me some sticky notes!

Willie catches one glimpse of Julie on her way to class and reaches for the pad of sticky notes in their backpack. Her hunched shoulders and oversized blue and black flannel(probably Ray's) illustrate how she's feeling more than any words could. No time to catch her in the passing period, but he can probably get to her locker before she does after history.

They slide into their seat just as the bell rings. Reggie shoots him a smile from his spot a few seats over. Willie returns it, and doesn't miss the big A written at the top of the quiz Mr. Hood hands him a minute later. Willie's only has a B+, but he's happy with it. Mr. Hood starts talking about some club thing after that, so Willie sets his pad of sticky notes down just inside their desk to write. They have a few to write since this morning.

A hype up note for Julie, along with a dumb joke to make her smile on her bad day.

A good luck note to Carrie for her dance performance this afternoon.

A congrats note to Reggie for his history grade, which Willie knows he worked hard for.

A reminder to Luke that they're all doing dinner at the Molinas' tonight, cause he always forgets that kind of thing.

Willie's not sure when exactly it became A Thing, them writing notes to their friends and leaving them in their lockers throughout the day. His dad is probably to blame for the start of it. Caleb started putting notes in his lunchboxes less than a year after Willie had come to live with him. Usually reminders about appointments or best wishes for tests, but sometimes they just said "I love you" in the magician's curly, elegant handwriting.

So when Willie finally made friends, it only made sense to start writing the same notes to them.

He carefully folds the notes and tucks them into his pocket for later. As fun as it would be to ask for a bathroom pass and just happen to pass all his friends' lockers on the way, they'd gotten in trouble for that a couple of times already this year. He should probably try and pay attention.

After class finally ends, they dart out of the room. He's not sure he'll be able to get everyone before they reach their lockers, but he's certainly going to try.

When he's finished and stops for a second at his own locker, Willie is greeted by Alex's soft smile as the drummer leans against his own locker. Willie doesn't dare press his own lips against Alex's, they aren't really out as a couple at school, but they return his grin and brush their fingers against his on the way to his locker handle.

"How was history?" Alex asks.

"Same old," Willie responds with a shrug. "Bunch of straight white guys making up rules and ruining everyone else's lives."

"Youch, sounds like fun," Alex says sarcastically just as Willie swings his locker open.

Willie steps back, startled, as a bunch of slips of paper fall out of their locker. They're all little squares, uniform in size if not in color. And now they're on the floor all around their feet.

"Whoops," Alex mutters, dropping to his knees and starting to gather the papers.

Willie quickly joins him on the floor and scoops up a few of the slips. It takes the two of them a minute to gather them all. Just as they finish, the bell rings.

Alex swears under his breath and hands his stack of paper to Willie. "I gotta get to class, sorry," he says, offering a smile before hurrying off.

Willie stuffs the papers into his back pocket and slams his locker shut. At least he's already close to their English classroom. A quick dash later, he's sliding into his seat just as the teacher calls his name for roll call.

With trying to pay attention in class and not get distracted by the spring leaves on the tree outside, Willie totally forgets about the papers until study hall, his last period of the day.

They shift in their chair for the millionth time, trying to get comfortable. Their pocket just feels weird underneath him. Willie reaches back to make sure some old receipt didn't end up in there or something. But instead he finds a bunch of colorful sticky notes.

Willie frowns down at the crumpled slips. Sure, he slips notes into people's lockers all the time, but he doesn't get them back much. And never this many at once. He starts laying them out across his desk, grateful for a teacher who mostly ignores them the whole period.

Each paper has a single letter on it, which was odd, but they're all written in a very familiar hand. Willie smiles softly. Alex's awkward fumbling for them suddenly makes a lot more sense.

The letters are P, W, O, M, T, H, E, I, another M, and R, with a ? on the final note. Willie grins at the challenge and begins rearranging them into words. The worm? Moth prim? Their Mom?

Oh.

Willie feels like his heartbeat can probably be heard by the whole school as they fumble for their own notepad.

YES, I would LOVE to go to prom with you!!!! they write on the little blue paper. Though maybe this one can be a hand delivery, rather than being slipped into Alex's locker. It is the end of the day after all. No use leaving their boyfriend on pins and needles any longer.

Willie carefully tucks Alex's notes into a folder, probably looking like an idiot for how wide he's grinning but not caring in the slightest. Alex just asked him to prom! Which means coming out together. Being them. For the whole school to see.

Willie can't wait.