#so like i dont need more blondes and i don't need more drummers and i esp dont need that combo together

[tea-and-finalfantasy]

me @ me like u Cannot have another blonde drummer oc u already have one of those

[eyes-of-metal]

When Your Walls Come Down

( Eric Carr X OC)

Word count: 2600

Summary: Rae is a shy music journalist who’s never stood out in a crowd and prefers it that way, but a chance meeting with a certain fox might change all of that.

I worked really hard on this am I'm very proud of it so I hope you all like it and read it! ♥︎

I don't consider myself anything special. In fact, in most rooms, I'm the invisible one. The one that no one pays any attention to. That's perfectly fine with me. I prefer to keep to myself because I'm deathly shy.

As much as I love rock and metal, I could never play an instrument or be a groupie. My stage fright and general shyness would prevent me. Instead, I'm okay with being an observer in the crowd. That's why I only write music reviews for the magazine and don't bother fighting to get interviews with actual rock stars. I know I could never handle it. I'm perfectly fine doing my more solitary work.

“Rae, ready to go?” Dana, my roommate and concert buddy, says, popping her blonde head into my room.

“Yup,” I say, grabbing my purse and slinging it over my shoulder.

“Really?” Dana says, giving me a once-over; she's not convinced.

“What?” I ask, looking myself up and down. Am I missing a stain or something?

“You can't wear that to a Kiss concert!” Dana says, pushing me back into my room.

“Why not?” I ask, confused.

Since when can't a girl wear ripped jeans, a kiss t-shirt, leather jacket and cowboy boots to a concert?

It's not her red leather mini skirt and leather top to match with leather-heeled boots, but it's not a bad look. I'm not like her anyway. She's a blonde knockout with a perfect body. I'm a lacklustre redhead.

“We’re front row!” She says appalled. “Don’t you want them to notice you?”

Truthfully? No. I didn't want anyone to notice me. I want to enjoy the show up close. I wouldn't even know how to react or what to say if they did.

“No, I’ll let you get the attention,” I admit to her; I'm fine. I dont need it.

“Fine, but if I get backstage, I'm taking you with me.” She warns me.

Hearing that makes my heart race a bit. God, I wouldn't know what to do. I'd be awkward, ruin the vibe, and look like an idiot.

“Please don't.” I plead with her, “You don't want me making things weird.”

“You need to have some fun, Rae.” Dana sighs, “Come on, you're young and beautiful.”

If only that were true.

“Come on.” I say, opening our door and changing the subject, “I don't want to be late.”

“Fine.” She sighs, rolling her eyes as she follows me out.

———————————————

As the show ends, all four band members stand at the edge of the stage. Naturally, everyone around me is doing everything possible to get their attention. That includes Dana, of course. She's not trying to get anyone in particular. I know this because I know Dana. I've been to many shows with her; she's happy to get attention from anyone.

I, on the other hand, would rather disappear into the crowd. I actively try not to make eye contact despite them being right there. I'm looking at every place but the stage.

I watch as Paul Stanley hands a guitar pick right into Dana’s hand. Dana gives him a flirtatious smile. Please don't take her backstage—the memory of the threat she made earlier coming back. My anxiety is suddenly rising.

I'm not thinking straight because of that, and I make the mistake of looking up onto the stage. As I do so, I lock eyes with Eric Carr, the drummer.

Shit.

Before I can quickly look away, he smiles at me. Of course, once that happens, I know it would not be pleasant to look away. Of course, I can't make myself smile back because my anxiety is preventing me from thinking straight, and I'm slightly panicking.

He’s Eric Carr. The drummer of KISS is looking at me. I’m not used to anyone looking at me, let alone someone like him.

My heart is beating faster now. God, he's going to think of the rudest person ever. This is why you don't look up on stage, Rae.

He squats down and reaches out to me with one of his drumsticks. I've never gotten a drumstick or a pick at a show. Usually, like I said, I blend into the crowd so no one notices me, and when a pick is thrown out, I'm not about to fight over it.

I graciously take it. This time, I managed a shakey to smile at him to say thanks. Then, once it sinks in, I freak out and look away because it's me.

Oh my god. Eric Carr just gave me a drumstick. I know it means nothing; I'm in the front row at this concert. Plus, I weirdly made eye contact with him, and he probably felt he had to.

I look over to where Dana is standing. She's now somehow holding a backstage pass. How did that happen within the minute I wasn't paying attention?

Please, please, please don't have one for me. The drumstick incident was enough excitement for me, and I still haven't fully recovered from it. I'm even more scared to look on stage in case it happens again.

She turns to me with a big grin on her face. She flashes me the passes, and there are two of them.

Shit. The panic rises in my chest. I don't know what to do backstage with a band! What happens if I run into Eric? Oh my god. What do I even say after that? I suddenly regret ever coming to this concert with Dana.

——————————————————

I managed to sneak off before anyone noticed. Ideally, I'd like to leave, but I can't because I’m too nice and can't just leave Dana here. So, Instead, I search for a quiet spot.

I find a quiet corner and sit with my back against the way. I let out a sigh, not realizing I was holding in. I reach into my bag and pull out my notepad and a pen. I need to make some quick notes for my review tomorrow. I always do this right after a concert; it's still fresh, and I don't forget.

Yes, I'm lame. I'm sitting alone in the corner, writing backstage at a KISS show. I'm fully aware. I'd rather it be this way. I feel bad, though; this backstage pass should have been given to someone who’d used it correctly.

I pause as I hear hushed voices coming towards me. Hopefully, whoever it is won’t notice me. At least, that's what I'm praying for.

No such luck. Into view down the hall come Eric Carr and Bruce Kulick. Fuck. Eric is the last person I want to see.

Not that I don't think he's a brilliant drummer. No, I happen to love his drumming. I also happen to think he's cute and seems like a sweet person.

It's just the whole drumstick thing from earlier. I don't know what to say. Well, I do. I don't know if my anxiety will let me say it. I’m shy and hate interacting with people because I freak out. Then, they lose all ability to act normally or form words.

“Bruce, this is-” Eric stops once he spots me.

“Oh, hello.”

“I told you,” Bruce says, giving Eric an I told you so look, clearly referring to an earlier conversation.

You can do this, Rae. I remind myself. They’re just people. Not that I'm good with any people. Stop overthinking. I take a deep breath. Trying and failing to calm the panic I feel rising in my chest.

“Hello.” I manage to reply with a shaky voice. God, I sound like an idiot.

“You should know you might be here awhile,” Eric informs me, “I just saw your blonde friend making out with Paul.”

Ugh. I mean, it's good for Dana but not good for me. Now I'm stuck waiting until Dana remembers me, comes and tells me what's up, and before I can leave. I don't want to leave her behind. It's our policy.

“Oh…guess I have to wait then,” I reply like an idiot as if he couldn't figure that out.

“I can wait with you if you want.” Eric offers with a friendly smile.

“Oh…ah…you don't have to.” I manage to stutter out it's lovely of him to offer, but for one, I'm sure he has better things to do than spend time with me. And I have no idea how I'm managing to make this much conversation, let alone the hours it could take for Dana to find me.

“I have no problem keeping a pretty girl like you

company,” Eric compliments me, shooting me a charming yet sweet smile. Everything this man does is cute.

I swear my heart stops for a second. Did Eric Carr of KISS call me pretty? No. No way he did. I mean, no one has ever really called me pretty. No one even notices me, let alone someone like him.

I’d even think his tone was slightly flirtatious if I didn't know better. There is no way, though. After all, he could have any girl in that audience, hell, any girl in the world. Why would he want me? He's just being nice, Rae; it doesn't mean anything.

“Thank you,” I reply, giving him a small smile. I'm proud of myself for even being able to do that. After all, I'm freaking out inside.

“What are you writing?” Eric asks, peaking around to get a look at the page.

“I’m a journalist; I do music and concert reviews,” I tell him, gently shutting the book.

“Hopefully, you write about how amazing that drum solo was.” He teases, “And how sexy the drummer is.”

I was going to write about the drum solo and how I did think it was great. Of course, I thought he looked good behind the kit, but I was never and will never admit that out loud. I was half expecting him to bring up giving me a stick.

“The drum solo was great.” I compliment him; his solos are some of the best. I can't deny that.

“Also, thanks for the drumstick.”

“You’re welcome.” He smiles, “I always try to give them to the hottest girls in the crowd.”

There he goes again with the compliments. I can feel my cheeks getting red. Rae, it means nothing. Calm down.

“You don't say much, do you?” He comments, but it's not in a condescending way, like most people mean it when they say it to me. More just made in observation.

“I’m just shy, sorry.” I apologize; I feel embarrassed. I'm sure he's used to women and people talking his ear off. I'm just sitting here like a mute, and it's no fun.

“It’s okay,” Eric says softly, “I think it's cute.”

In all my life, I've never had anyone call me shy and cute; like I mentioned, they are usually not that nice.

“Oh.” I replied, surprised, “Thank you. Most people think it weird.”

I feel my face getting warm again. I'm sure I'm blushing like a complete idiot. He’s being nice, and you’re just sitting here blushing like an idiot. I should probably say something nice back, or do I? I'm not good in social situations.

Before he can reply to that, Dana comes down the hall. Her heels clicked loudly on the tiled floor, catching my attention.

She shoots me a smirk once she notices Eric sitting with me. Oh god. I'm never going to hear the end of this.

“I won’t be coming home tonight.” She tells me, tossing her car keys at me. “Looks like you won't be either.”

“Dana, please,” I say, my face turning bright red in embarrassment. Could you leave it to Dana to embarrass me?

“What?” Dana says, playing innocent, “You’re talking to a man and not running away; this has to mean something.”

“I don't run away.” I lie.

I know exactly what she's referring to with that comment. We became roommates in our first year of college when I moved to Los Angeles. Dana set me up on a blind date with her then-boyfriend's friend.

He came on way too strong, which freaked me out, so I ran away. Like, I ran away. I turned and ran—one of my most embarrassing moments. I would instead say that Eric never knew about it, though.

“Freshmen year,” Dana says, giving me the Oh come on, Rae, don't you play dumb look.

“Fine, but in my defence, he came on to me way too strong,” I say, trying to defend myself and not look like a loser or weirdo in front of Eric.

“You’re hopeless.” Dana rolls her eyes.

“You know it,” I say, shooting a finger gun her way. Completely forgetting for a quick second, I sat next to Eric Carr of KISS, and what I did was majorly dorky.

“Please be gentle with her,” Dana says, looking at Eric. “She’s easily spooked.”

“Dana, please, I'm not your horse!” I say, completely and utterly embarrassed. I feel like hiding.

First, Dana suggests he'd want to sleep with me, which is highly unlikely. Plus, they have a highly embarrassing story of me running away from a date. There is no way Eric will want to talk to me after this encounter.

“I won’t come on too strong, I promise.” Eric jokes, “I don't want you running off on me.”

“I’m more worried you might run off after that embarrassing conversation,” I coyly say, shooting Dana a glare afterward.

“Embarrassing? I found it very informative.” Eric laughs, “Now I know what not to do.”

“Well, that's my queue to leave; see you tomorrow, Rae!” Dana says, giving me a little wave as she disappears down the hall.

I suddenly feel a yawn coming on. I glance at my watch. It's 1 am. I'm never usually up past 10:30 most nights. No wonder I'm tired. I also have work tomorrow, so I really should get going.

“I didn't know I was that boring.” Eric teases.

“It’s not you,” I tell him, laughing a little. I feel much more comfortable with him after he didn't run away after the Dana incident.

“It’s just that I have work tomorrow and never stay up this late,” I tell him, yawning halfway through the sentence.

“Well, before you go, would it be too bold to ask for your phone number?” Eric asks me with a sweet smile.

I'm surprised. No one has ever wanted my phone number before. Does this mean I've been wrong this whole time? Maybe he thinks I'm cute. Why else would he ask for my number?

“Okay,” I reply. I think he's earned it. After all, he's been sweet to me all night. As Dana would say, you only live once, right? And who am I to say no to Eric Carr of KISS having my phone number?

I open my notebook and carefully write it down. Then I write my name below it before ripping the page out of the notebook and folding it over before handing it to Eric.

He unfolded it and read it over, then looked at me.

“Rae.” He says, repeating the name he just read on the paper. I must admit it does sound nice coming out of his mouth- Rae, keep yourself in line.

“It suits you.”

“Thank you.” I smile shyly.

“I’ll give you a call.” He promises.

“I’m looking forward to it,” I tell him, and I wholeheartedly mean that. For the first time, I'm looking forward to talking to someone, and the feeling is new. Yet, for once, I'm not scared. No, I'm excited and it's a good feeling.

[motleyfuckingcruee]

Too Drunk For Love (Dirt!Mick Mars x Reader One Shot)

Requested:

@lilypetite88 thank you! This is my first request!

Description:

Would you do a one shot where you are so drunk because your boyfriend cheated on you and mick is there to confort you and he end up being drunk too and end up on you being married and the rest of the boys help with everything then next morning both of you dont remember nothing but you realized you love each other all is happy that way.

Warnings:

Bunch of fluff and fucking language

REQUESTS ARE OPEN!!!!

//

Once again you ended up at the Whiskey A Go Go. This became a habit for you. You often came here to get shit faced. God knows you needed too. When you went to work you saw the woman that your boyfriend cheated on you with. She was your best friend too. Turns out she only pretended to be your best friend to get with your now ex-boyfriend. That really stung you. All your life people only walked out on you. Left you out in the cold. You thought you'd be used to it by now, but you guess not.

The Whiskey is a safe haven for you. Everyone had the same reason to be there.

To get laid and piss ass drunk.

You didn't think you ready to hookup with someone yet, so you just got drunk. Multiple men have hit on you while you've been there at the bar. You declined as nicely as you could. That ended up with them calling you a prude or a stuck up whore. It didn'd bother you to hear those venomous words. You could tell they were all pigs anyway.

A band played there every week. Mötley Crüe you thought they were called. It was an odd collection of guys that were up there. The first one you'd noticed was the lead singer. Mostly because he was right in the front and because of his bright blonde hair. You next noticed the mysterious bass player whose hair nearly covered his entire face. The drummer was next. He was really tall and lanky with long dark brown hair.

The last was the guitarist. You instantly knew he was your favorite. He had long black hair and looked to be a bit older than the rest. He played the guitar like a fucking God. You even made eye contact with him a few times.

Now you sit at the bar with a whole bottle of Jack Daniels in your hand. You don't care about what other people must be thinking about you. You just want to forget.

Mötley Crüe finishes up their set behind you. You didn't feel like watching them tonight. You had a hard day. Worse than the ones before. You just wanted to get drunk.

You take a swig as people start nearly swarming around you. They needed their booze just like you did. You listened to everyone give their orders to the bartender who started to look panicked as people were yelling at him.

You smile at him, hoping to make him feel a bit better. You get lost in thought. You drink a bit more. You stare off into space at the bar.

"You didn't watch us tonight," A deep voice says from beside you.

You look up. You're nearly knocked out of your stool from shock.

The last person you expected to see was the dark haired guitarist. He smiles at you and repeats his statement.

"O-Oh!" You stutter, blushing. "Y-Yeah, it's just been a rough day. I really needed to drink."

He sits on the stool beside you. Ordering himeself his own bottle of Jack. He smirks at you and takes a swig.

"What's got you feeling down?" The guitarist asks.

"I was cheated on," You say simply, taking a swig.

"Oh," He says, surprised. "I'm sorry."

You shrug your shoulders. "I'm not surprised." You pause, looking at him. "I'm (Y/N) (Y/L/N), by the way."

"Mick Mars," He responds grinning at you. He takes in a deep breath. "I think we both need to get wasted. Why don't we do together?"

You don't even hesitate with your answer. "Fuck yes."

-----

You wake up in an unfamiliar bed. The light coming through the window is blinding to your tired eyes. You groan, sitting up. You look around once your eyes adjust. You're in your underwear and that's it. You see your clothes scattered on the bedroom floor. You look hesitantly to your side. Laying there is Mick Mars. The guy you only met last night.

You don't remember anything. That last moment your brain can come up with is when Mick invited you to get wasted with him.

You press your hands to your face. As you do so, you feel something different on your finger. It was cold and metallic. Knowing what it is, but not wanting it to be it, you pull your left hand away from your face.

Sure enough a gorgeous diamond ring is on your ring finger.

What the fuck have I gotten myself into? You ask yourself.

Mick stirs from beside you. You look at him and wait for him to wake up. He opens his eyes, looking up at you. He looks just as surprised as you were when you woke.

He sits up, and rubs his face.

"(Y/N)?" He asks hesitantly.

"Yeah?"

"What the hell happened last night?" He asks, laughing a bit.

You hold up your left hand. "I'm guessing we got wasted enough to get married."

His eyes widen. He looks at his ring finger. He has a simple silver band to match your elaborate ring. "We were that trashed?"

You nod your head. You pull your knees up and rest your head on them. You laugh to yourself. "I'm only twenty three and I'll be getting my first divorce. That's not what I expected."

Mick smiles. "It's not as bad as you think."

You open your mouth to respond, but his bedroom door bursts open.

"Get up, old man!" The tall, lanky drummer yells. "We got shit to do!"

The other two follow closely behind the drummer. They all stop in their tracks when their eyes land on you.

You smile shyly and wave at them. "Hi."

The bassists face lights up. "Finally the old man got laid!"

You roll your eyes and laugh at him.

"Oh! I'm Nikki, by the way," The bassist introduces himself. "The tall one is Tommy, and the blonde one is Vince."

"Nice to meet you guys," You laugh. "I'm (Y/N)."

"A pretty name for such a pretty lady," Vince flirts, winking at you.

"Look at her eyes, Tommy," Mick growls.

You look down, realizing that your in your bra. You pull the blanket up to cover yourself. You blush, completely embarrassed.

"Looks like you had a fun night," Nikki laughs. "You guys left as soon as we tried to join your party."

You frown. "I don't remember that." You hold up your left hand again. You point at the gorgeous ring. "Do you guys remember us getting married?"

Their eyes widen in shock.

"You guys got fucken hitched?" Tommy laughs. "And here I thought I'd be the first to get married."

"We thought so too, T-Bone," Nikki laughs, clapping him on the back.

You sigh. "We need to get down to the court house and file for a divorce." You groan. "This really fucking sucks."

"You know what?" Tommy says. You look up at him. "Why don't you guys try being together? I mean, Mick you've been wanting to be with someone and she seems like the perfect fit. You two got on so well last night. It was effortless. Why not ride this out?"

You and Mick look at each other.

"It's not a bad idea," Mick says. "You're not as ridiculous as I thought you were, drummer."

"Thank you!" Tommy nearly yells.

You grin at Tommy, then turn back to Mick. "It might work out."

And work out it did. You and Mick moved in together the next day. He didn't have to worry about meeting your family since you didn't have any. He took you out on your first date that weekend. You knew you were in love with him by the fifth date.

Mötley Crüe took off about a year after you and Mick got hitched. He made sure that he had time for you at all times. If you called he'd drop whatever it was he was doing. He loved you more than you could ever imagine, and you loved him the same. Maybe even more.

Now here you are, five years later. You're standing in the kitchen of the mansion Mick bought about six months ago. You watch him as he attempts to make you your favorite meal for your five year anniversary.

You grin and take a sip of your beer.

You can't believe how lucky you are to have him.

You're so glad you listened to the kid drummer. That was the best idea he'd ever had, and you could never repay him.

Thanks to Tommy Lee, you stayed with the love of your life.