#super cool! they look like rockstars!

[rin-spotted]

rin (and len) spotted!

The Kagamines [birthday art i did for them last year ( ´・∀・｀)

[avian-hearts]

YELLS SO LOUDLY I'M IN LOVE LOVE LOOOOOOOOOVE 💖💕💞💞💖💞💖💘💓💕💞💖💘💗💖💕💕💓💗💖💘💝💗💕💓💖💝💕💗💘

[valeisaslut]

⭒࿐COLLIDE - c. four

credits for the fanart: nramvv - edited by me

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑

𝐒𝐇𝐄.

← 𝑐𝘩𝑎𝑝𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑡𝘩𝑟𝑒𝑒 | 𝑚𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡 | 𝑐𝘩𝑎𝑝𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑓𝑖𝑣𝑒 𝑡𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑒𝑟 →

listen to the song linked for a better and more realistic experience, hope you like it and think it fits them as much as i did <3

⚢ pairing: Rockstar!Ellie Williams x Popstar!Reader 𖥔 ݁ ˖

⭒ synopsis: Trapped in a carefully crafted illusion, you and Ellie have spent the past month playing the perfect couple for the world to believe. But in the quiet of a hotel room, away from the world’s gaze, a song takes shape between you. A melody that feels too raw, too real, like something neither of you meant to reveal. And as the music flows, so does the unspoken truth—this isn’t just an act anymore. 𖥔 ݁ ˖

⭒ word count: 7k 𖥔 ݁ ˖

⭒ content: fluff, LOTS of tension, nothing big acc happens but is SUPER important for the story and plot, shows my undying love for music, fake dating, cursing, modern au, mention of cigarettes, alcohol and drugs, afab!reader, multiple part series, MEN AND MINORS DNI, likes and reblogs are deeply appreciated 𖥔 ݁ ˖

The past month had been nothing short of chaos—an intoxicating, inescapable kind of madness. A whirlwind of flashing cameras, endless headlines, and a public that simply couldn’t get enough of you and Ellie. 

The entire world crowned both of you as Hollywood’s latest and most interesting It Couple. Your names trended daily, your faces plastered across billboards, magazine covers, and endless Twitter threads dedicated to analyzing the tiniest details of your interactions. Every stolen glance, every accidental brush of fingers, even a single shared breath in the same frame was magnified, dissected, and spun into theories. 

You expected the attention. The speculation. But what you hadn’t expected was for it to stick. To grow. To spiral into something much bigger than the both of you, something neither of you had full control over.

But Rachel was right—relationships, real or not, fueled careers. Publicity was a currency, and right now, you and Ellie were cashing in.

Overnight, you had become a rockstar’s girlfriend, an effortlessly cool counterpart to her reckless charm. Your name carried a new kind of weight—more intrigue, more edge. Meanwhile, Ellie’s past scandals and messy headlines were wiped clean, replaced with a precisely curated narrative of stability, of mistery wrapped in romance. 

Both of you had the press wrapped around your fingers, feeding the public’s insatiable hunger, heightening the anticipation for your upcoming albums.

Everything was working perfectly.

Well, almost.

This romance was an act, a carefully crafted illusion designed to sell a story. But as more fake dates passed, as more carefully orchestrated appearances blurred into late nights, it stopped feeling like fiction. The teasing, the banter, the way she’d lean in just a little too close when she whispered in your ear, the way her fingers would slip under your clothes when no one was looking—it wasn’t just for the cameras anymore. 

And the way she looked at you… that was the worst part. Because when the flashes faded and the crowds disappeared, when it was just the two of you slipping into the quiet of a hotel room, a dimly lit backstage greenroom, a late-night car ride with the city stretching out endlessly beyond the tinted windows, the lines blurred.

And the “rules”?

They weren’t just bending anymore. 

They were begging to be broken.

Now, another morning. Another hotel room. The remnants of last night lay scattered like evidence—a familiar, beautiful kind of mess.

Whiskey glasses half-empty, a bottle of wine tipped over on the nightstand, clothes draped over furniture, carelessly discarded in the haze of lust. The air was heavy, thick with the remnants of cigarettes and the musk of sweat and sex that clung to the skin and the sheets.

Sunlight spilled through the massive windows, casting lazy golden streaks across the tangle of limbs and the mess of unruly hair. It traced the curve of bare shoulders, the rise and fall of slow, steady breaths—turning the remnants of the night into something almost soft, almost tender.

In the hush of the morning, it was easy to forget.

Easy to sink into the illusion that outside these four walls, the world wasn’t waiting with cameras and microphones, ready to twist something as simple as a glance into another headline.

Here, time moved slower, suspended in a half-conscious state between dreams and reality.

Just her. 

Just you.

And whatever the hell this had become.

You stirred against the pillows, consciousness creeping in at the edges, reluctant to pull you from the weightless comfort of sleep. The bed was warm, the space beside you still faintly imprinted with Ellie’s shape, but empty.

A few feet away, perched at the edge of the mattress, she sat with one leg drawn up, the other resting on the floor, hoodie slung lazily over her shoulders, sleeves pushed up to her elbows. The loose fabric did nothing to conceal the way her tattooed back muscles flexed with each movement, her fingers untangling the mess of wires at her feet.

She hadn’t noticed you were awake yet.

Her auburn locks were an absolute mess, sticking up in odd places, and for just a fleeting moment, she looked younger, softer. There was something achingly familiar in the slope of her shoulders, in the easy way she just existed in the quiet.

As if this wasn’t a hotel room in some foreign city. As if you hadn’t spent the past month pretending this thing between you was just an act.

You watched her through heavy-lidded eyes, letting yourself look at her—really look at her. Before the world demanded smirks in place of softness, sharp words instead of silence, half-truths masked as teasing. Before the world could steal this version of her away from you.

And then, as if drawn by some unspoken force, she turned.

Her gaze found yours, soft with sleep, yet sharp in its awareness. Something flickered in those green eyes, quiet and unreadable. She didn’t smirk, didn’t tease. She just looked at you, studying your face like she was trying to etch every detail into memory.

Slowly, carefully, her fingers reached out. The backs of her knuckles ghosted over your cheek, featherlight, tracing the curve of your jaw before tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. The touch was barely there, but it sent a shiver down your spine, a warm sensation you tried—and failed—to ignore.

Her thumb lingered at your temple, just for a second. A hesitation. A silent question neither of you dared to voice.

And then, as quickly as she had touched you, she was gone.

She turned her attention back to the wires, fingers deft and practiced as she untangled them, as if the touch had never happened. As if she hadn’t just traced the shape of you like you were fragile, something worth remembering.

The spell broke. The world righted itself. 

But your skin still burned where she had touched you.

The gentle clink of a guitar cable against the amp, the soft click of knobs turning. A second later, the first note filled the room—unhurried, each strum rolling into the next.

You groaned, cracking an eye open fully. "Really? First thing in the morning?"

Ellie barely spared you a glance, her fingers drifting into a slow, steady rhythm.

"Sorry babe…" she muttered, exhaling as if she had been holding her breath too long. "I just… have this fucking melody in my head. I don’t wanna lose it."

You made a noise of protest, throwing an arm over your face. "You’re insufferable."

She smirked at that, plucking another note, her voice dipping into something lower, amused. 

"And yet…" she murmured, "you keep ending up in my bed."

Your lips parted for a retort, but you swallowed it down, pressing your arm further into your face instead. There was no point in denying it.

Because she was right.

You always did.

A few seconds later, you eased your arm to peek. Her head was tilted down, watching her hands move over the fretboard with effortless ease, like the chords were something she was pulling out of the air itself. 

There was something intoxicating about watching her like this—completely lost in it, focused, unaware of how fucking good she looked in the lazy light of morning. The sound lingered, like the kind of melody that only existed somewhere between a dream and a memory, slow and hypnotic. Almost intimate.

Your brows pulled together. 

"That’s… actually really good."

Ellie finally looked up, an eyebrow raised. "You think?"

You pushed yourself up on your elbows, hair falling into your face as you listened, really listened. The way the chords lingered, how she let the last note stretch a second longer than expected, the slight hesitation in how she moved between them—it felt intentional.

Words and lyrics began to swirl in your mind, floating effortlessly like they were born from the melody Ellie was playing. They felt right, like they belonged perfectly to the rhythm she’d found without even trying.  

"Keep going." you murmured.

Reaching blindly for the notepad on the nightstand, your fingers brushed across the edge of the pages before curling around the pen Ellie stealed from god-knows-where.

Without thinking, the words spilled out, falling from your lips as if they had been waiting for this moment.

"She… she lives in daydreams with me…"

It was barely above a whisper, unpolished, something that shouldn’t have meant anything. But it did.

The moment it left your mouth, it did.

Ellie’s head snapped up, fingers pausing on the strings.

"She’s the first one that I see…" you continued, voice steadying, gaining weight. "And I don’t know why… I don’t know who she is…"

A slow grin spread across her face. Not her usual cocky smirk, not the teasing half-smile she threw when she was trying to get a rise out of you—something softer, something real.

"The fuck was that?"

You shrugged, heartbeat a little too fast, face warming up. 

"I don’t know. It just… came."

Ellie nodded towards the notepad. 

"Write it down."

Your stomach flipped. You bit your lip, then did exactly that.

Ellie’s eyes never left yours as she continued to play, her body moving instinctively with each chord. The muscles in her forearms flexed and relaxed as she adjusted the pressure on the fretboard, focusing entirely on the music.

You tapped the pen against your thigh, your gaze on her fingers, watching the way they moved. More lyrics began to unravel in your mind, slipping past your thoughts.

“Nine in the morning, the man drops his kids off at school...” you hummed, voice soft, testing the air around you as if searching for the right words. 

Ellie snorted, fingers momentarily slipping on the strings. “What man?”

You blinked at her, confused.

She looked at you, brow raised, guitar still going. “The guy in the song. The fuck are you talking about?”

You rolled your eyes, trying to keep the irritation from your voice. “Just a random guy I saw across the street yesterday. But imagine this—this song isn’t about him. It’s about someone else entirely. A girl from a fantasy.”

Ellie paused for a second, considering your words, her expression softening with a thoughtful nod. “Huh. Alright. Go on, Shakespeare.”

You shot her a playful look before continuing to scribble words down, humming and trying to find the perfect ones to describe the concept you just found.

“And he’s thinking of you...”

“Like all of us do…” 

Your last words were a whisper, barely audible, almost too honest. Like a confession.

"Sends his assistant for coffee in the afternoon," you murmured, scribbling the line down, "around one-thirty-two. He knows what to do"

Ellie groaned dramatically, shaking her head. “Fucking hell. You’re fast with those lyrics.”

You glanced up at her, raising an eyebrow. “What? It’s just how I work. Now keep playing.”

Ellie exhaled, a small, impressed grin tugging at the corner of her mouth. "Fine, ma’am,"

You let the words tumble out, the melody weaving itself around the lyrics in perfect harmony. Everything around you seemed to disappear, as if nothing else mattered but this—the music, the words, and the space you shared.

"She… she… she lives in daydreams with me…" The first line left your lips again, now fitting perfectly against Ellie’s steady melody.

You didn’t miss the way her gaze lingered, her fingers tightening around the neck of her guitar.

"She… she’s the first one that I see… and I don’t know why… I don’t know who she is…”

Ellie let the last note hang in the air for a moment, the room thick with the sound.

She hummed in approval, her gaze steady on you.

“That’s really sick”

Then, she tilted her head, her eyes narrowing playfully as she caught your gaze. 

“But it’s kinda lesbophobic of you to write this about a man” 

You groaned, covering your face with one hand in mock embarrassment. “Oh, shut up, it slaps. And i already told you, it’s about a girl.”

Ellie chuckled, setting the guitar down just long enough to stretch, her muscles shifting beneath the ink that covered her arms. The sight of it made your breath catch, just for a second. She glanced over at you, her voice a little lower now, as if the air between you had thickened.

“Gotta admit…” she murmured, her eyes dark with something unreadable “your raw singing voice is amazing.”

You swallowed, heart thudding against your ribs as you forced out a casual, "Yeah, well… don't get used to it."

Ellie huffed a quiet laugh, but there was something else there now, heavier. Her fingers flexed against the body of the guitar, like she wasn’t sure whether to pick it back up or let the silence settle in.

You looked down at the lyrics scribbled across the notepad, the ink slightly smudged from where your palm had rested against the page. The song was unfinished, hanging in the air between you, waiting.

Waiting for who?

Waiting for what?

Ellie broke the silence first.

"This fantasy girl… who is she?"

Your hand stilled over the notepad.

Ellie tilted her head, something sharp—knowing—lurking behind her curiosity.

You swallowed. "I don't know."

A lie.

Ellie didn’t know what the hell was happening to her.

She’d looked at you a thousand times before—across dimly lit restaurants, over the neck of her guitar, through the haze of cigarette smoke and exhaustion after a long night in the studio.

But this? This was different.

The weight of her gaze settled in your chest, thick and pressing, making it hard to breathe. You weren’t used to her looking at you like this—open, unguarded, as if she was actually seeing you.

Not just the version of you she joked with, not just the version of you that the world saw, but the real you. The one who wrote in hotel rooms at ungodly hours. The one who overthought everything. The one who kept getting tangled in something she didn’t have the words for.

And maybe that was what scared her the most. That you—this raw, unfiltered version of you—had somehow become the thing she kept chasing. The thing that was lingering in every corner of her mind, bleeding into every song she played, every lyric she wrote, every melody that lived rent-free in her head.

You shifted slightly, the fabric of her shirt slipping further down your shoulder, exposing warm skin to the low light. And for some reason, that was the thing that made her stomach twist. Not in the way she was used to. Not in the way that ended in tangled sheets and careless goodbyes.

No, this was something else.

Something quieter. Something that had been building, slow and unrelenting, creeping in through the cracks she hadn’t even realized you’d left in her.

And then Ellie moved again, fingers finding the guitar with effortless familiarity. The melody resounded again, but now softer, like she was testing the waters.

She could feel it in her hands before she even processed the thought—fingers moving, plucking at the strings without hesitation, as if the melody had been there all along, waiting to be carved out.

It came effortlessly this morning, guided by something unspoken, something just out of reach. The way you looked at her, the way you bit your lip absentmindedly, the way the light caught on your cheekbone. It was music. You were music.

And before she could stop herself, before she could even think, it was spilling out of her again.

"She… she… she lives in daydreams with me…"

Her voice humming your lyrics—low, raspy, barely more than a whisper—wrapped around the words like a confession, rough yet impossibly gentle. It sent something sharp curling low in your stomach, dangerously close to longing.

"She… she’s the first one that I see… and I don’t know why… I don’t know who she is."

The song lingered in the space between you, settling into the quiet like a secret neither of you were ready to confess.

But in that moment, you didn’t have to.

Mid-strum, she let out a slow breath and rolled her shoulders.

Then, almost out of nowhere, she said, "I told you that I learned to play guitar from Joel, right?"

You nodded, surprised by the shift in topic and feeling the weight of the legendary name. "...Yeah, you did"

She nodded, her fingers still idly plucking at the strings, like she needed something to anchor herself.

“He never cared about playing things the ‘right’ way. Wasn’t about that for him.” She exhaled, gaze distant, like she was somewhere else. “He always said music wasn’t just about the notes—it was about feeling it. Living it. That if you played it right, it could make sense of things that didn’t.”

You watched Ellie carefully, seeing a side of her you hadn’t expected. The way she spoke of Joel, the way her fingers tightened on the guitar like it was a lifeline.

“You ever miss it?” you asked softly, not even sure what it meant—Joel, music, or something else entirely.

Ellie let out a breath, tilting her head to the ceiling before shrugging. But it wasn’t casual—it was heavy.

"...Yeah" she admitted, voice quieter than before. "I’ve been kind of a dick to him, honestly."

You didn’t say anything, just let her talk.

"He made everything feel easier. Even the shit that wasn’t." She huffed out a small laugh, shaking her head. "When we played together, it was like... I don’t know, like none of the bullshit mattered for a little while."

Her fingers stilled on the strings.

"He used to tell me, ‘There’s no wrong way to play a song, Ellie. Just how you feel about it.’" She smirked, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. "Guess that’s why I never cared about music theory or technique or whatever. Just wanted to feel it."

You nodded, understanding more than you expected to. 

The weight of the moment settled between you, pressing into the space where words didn’t need to be. For a second, it wasn’t about the song you were working on—it was about the simplicity of what music meant to both of you.

“Guess that’s how this song came out, huh?” you said, your voice almost teasing but with a note of sincerity. “No wrong way. Just… feeling it.”

“Yeah, exactly. You just... you just let it happen.” Ellie caught your eye and grinned, a mischievous glint in her gaze. “Pretty deep for a song we wrote in a hotel room, huh?”

“Yeah, I wasn’t expecting this to turn into some big existential moment, but here we are.” You chuckled, shifting on the bed to get a more comfortable spot. “Maybe it's the afterglow”

Ellie let out a short laugh, shaking her head. "Oh yeah? That what we’re calling it now?"

"I mean, think about it—" You gestured vaguely, a teasing edge to your voice. "The post-song haze, the melody and lyrics basically coming out of nowhere. It’s the artistic equivalent of afterglow."

Ellie hummed in consideration, tapping her fingers against the body of her guitar. "Okay, fine, I’ll give you that one. But music’s kinda like that, y'know? It creeps up on you. You think you’re just messing around, and then suddenly—bam—you’re confronting shit you didn’t even realize was still in your head."

You felt the weight of her words settle, the vulnerability that was so rare for her, but so real in that moment.

“Yeah, it does. Like, maybe this song wasn’t meant for me to write by myself. Sometimes, it’s just... the right person at the right time that makes it all click.”

Your words resounded in her head.

The right person at the right time that makes it all click.

You were that person.

Ellie tilted her head, murmuring low as her fingers never stopped their movement on the guitar.

“Maybe it was meant to be something we did together.”

A silence fell between you again, but it wasn’t awkward—it was comfortable, filled with the understanding of something bigger than both of you. Something beyond. 

Like it had a life of its own.

Ellie broke the silence, her voice light but knowing. “You know, I never thought I’d be sitting here, writing a song like this with anyone.”

“Why’s that?” you asked, genuinely curious.

She shrugged again, her gaze flickering to you, then back down to her guitar. “I don’t know. I guess I thought I’d just write songs with Jesse, Dina, and nobody else. But it’s... it’s amazing, doing this. With you.”

You reached for the notepad again, feeling the weight of the next line coming to you. “Then let’s make it count. Let’s finish it.”

Ellie smiled, the familiar spark returning to her eyes. “You got it.”

And with that, the room once again filled with the sounds of the song, both of you lost in the music, pushing and pulling at the notes, the chords, and each other—creating something new.

The next hour, the room was still filled with the soft hum of Ellie’s guitar strings, each note careful as she played the song you two had crafted over and over. It was still raw, still finding its final form, but with every repetition, it felt more real. More polished. And it was really good. 

You sat cross-legged on the bed as Ellie played, her fingers moving over the strings with more confidence each time. But you couldn’t help but watch her and wonder what the hell was going through that unreadable mind of hers.

She shifted, sitting back slightly, guitar still resting on her lap, letting out a long, almost frustrated sigh. 

“Alright, so we make this entire song in the span of an hour, and now what? Do we just let it die here?” She nudged the notepad towards you with her foot, the corner of her mouth pulling up in that mischievous grin you’d come to know far too well.

“We don’t have to record it,” you said, your voice a little too steady. “I mean, we didn’t even plan to write it, right? It was just… something that happened.”

She raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “Something that happened?”

She leaned forward, eyes narrowing slightly, still holding that knowing look. “Come on. You’re telling me you’re not at least a little curious about how this sounds with some actual production? Not just… us in a hotel room?”

“I don’t know. Maybe it’s just better left as a thing we did for ourselves,” you said, attempting to sound casual. "Not everything needs to be recorded."

Ellie clicked her tongue, clearly not impressed. She tapped the neck of her guitar rhythmically, glancing over at you. “That’s a nice idea, but you and I both know you’re lying to yourself right now.”

You crossed your arms, raising an eyebrow. “Oh, really?”

“Yeah. You're not the first person to get all deep and philosophical about a song only to end up recording it.”

You stared at her, then laughed despite yourself. “You really think I can’t just not record it?”

“Please,” she scoffed. “You’re itching for this to be out there. You wanna hear how it sounds with a full band behind it, don’t you?”

You shifted uncomfortably, unsure whether you were more frustrated with her or with the fact that she was right.

“Maybe…” You trailed off, giving her a small smile. “But it’s not like it has to be something big.”

“Big, small, whatever. The point is—" She paused, leaning in just a little closer, the air between you crackling with tension. "We’re making something that feels real, something that’s ours, and it deserves to be heard.”

“I don’t know…” You exhaled slowly, looking away for a moment. “This is very different from my music. I’m not sure how it’ll translate.”

“It’s very different from my music too, but it’s just that fucking good.” She was almost daring you to argue, like she was waiting for you to backpedal.

“I’m not arguing that it’s really good. But it’s… soft. You know?”

Ellie chuckled, crossing her arms. “Soft, huh? That’s how you’re gonna describe it?” She shook her head, almost in disbelief. 

You crossed your arms, matching her defiance. “It’s just not what I’m used to. I don’t usually write this kind of stuff.”

Ellie tilted forward, her gaze steady. “Look, I get it. You’re afraid of doing something different. It’s not a big, loud anthem. It’s a quiet, real song that means something.”

You couldn’t argue with that. Not completely.

You fell silent, feeling a mix of dread and anticipation building in your chest. This was it. It wasn’t just the song anymore—it was you, stepping into something new.

“So what, we just go into the studio and see what happens?”

“I mean, yeah. Why not? What’s the worst that could happen? We both make a hit? Break the internet with your beautiful voice and my amazing solo?” She said, grinning like she’d already won. “Or maybe we just have fun. Either way, I’m in.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress the small smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. “God, you’re relentless.”

“Yeah,” she said, eyes glinting with something you couldn’t quite place. A challenge? A plea? Or maybe deeper, but you weren’t ready to name it.

“We’ve been through a hell of a month—don’t you think it’s time to do something that actually has meaning? Something that’s actually real?”

The words hit harder than you expected.

Because she was right.

Nothing in your life was real. Your smile, your image, your carefully curated personality that just existed for the cameras. Every interview rehearsed, every appearance staged. Even this so-called relationship was nothing more than another performance. 

But music?

Music was the only thing that had ever been real. The one unshakable, non-negotiable truth of your existence. The thing that kept you tethered when everything else felt hollow. The one part of yourself that hadn’t been twisted, edited, and repackaged for consumption.

And Ellie knew it.

She saw through all of it. Past the script, past the headlines, past the bullshit. And maybe that was what scared you the most.

Your breath hitched, something inside you shifting, clicking into place like a puzzle piece you hadn’t realized was missing. It was time to stop caring about how the world wanted to frame you.

Because if nothing else, at least this—whatever the hell this thing between you was—could create something real. Something honest. Something that actually mattered.

“Alright. Fine. Let’s do it,” you muttered, exhaling like you were about to regret it. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you when it turns out all weird and experimental.”

Ellie let out a sharp, triumphant laugh, her fingers already tapping an impatient rhythm against her knee. “Hell yeah. That’s the spirit.”

You shot her a look. “And don’t get any ideas—I’m not doing this for you.”

“Oh, please.” Ellie’s grin was all teeth, smug and satisfied. “You totally are.”

You rolled your eyes, but the truth was, it didn’t really matter anymore. Because the second the words left your mouth, you knew it was already done.

And as much as you told yourself you should be careful—as much as you tried to ignore the feeling curling low in your stomach—something inside you, quiet and reckless, was already looking forward to whatever came next.

The studio was alive with a hum of anticipation, the faint buzz of equipment and the subtle echo of footsteps as you adjusted the mic stand, your fingers brushing the cool metal. The engineers had already set everything up, the recording equipment primed and ready. 

It was just you and Ellie now, standing on the edge of something that felt too personal yet impossible to keep hidden.

You took a steadying breath, rolling your shoulders as you positioned yourself in front of the mic. Ellie sat off to the side, her guitar resting against her knee.

She had already laid down the instrumentals, the soft hum of her melody wrapping around the space like a thread holding it all together.

Now, it was your turn.

You inhaled slowly, eyes closing as you began to sing. The words of the song slipped past your lips effortlessly. It was the kind of moment where it felt like the music was taking control of you, and everything else melted away. 

Your voice stretched into the space, the words slipping into the quiet between notes. There was something raw in it, something that cracked through your usual performance.

You could feel Ellie’s gaze on you, her focus unwavering, but her usual teasing smile was nowhere to be found. She was listening—absorbing the emotion you were putting into the song.

You held the notes a little longer, the emotion building as you sang. It was simple, something you had done a million times, but in this moment, it felt different. 

You kept singing, the lyrics still scrawled messily across the notepad in handwriting so illegible only you and a pharmacist could decipher it. As the final note hung in the air, fading into the quiet of the room, you exhaled, fingers loosening on the mic. 

Almost instinctively, you turned to Ellie, searching her face for something—anything—that would tell you what she was thinking.

Her eyes were wide, mouth slightly open, her expression unreadable. For a moment, she didn’t speak. Didn’t move. It was like she was trapped somewhere else, still feeling the weight of it.

And then, without a word, she reached for her guitar.

The familiar chords rang out softly at first, her fingers moving over the strings like a whisper, hesitant yet sure. She played softly at first, almost as if testing the waters, letting the sound of her guitar blend with the tail end of your last note. The rhythm was soothing, a gentle echo.

But then, just as you thought she was going to ease into it, Ellie’s fingers shifted, and the solo erupted into the room. Like she just got a divine inspiration.

It wasn’t just music. It was something alive, untamed, filled with unspoken emotions. Her hands flew across the fretboard with the kind of precision that only came from knowing exactly how to make an instrument sing.

Knowing exactly how to make an instrument say something she couldn't.

The sound built around you, sharp and electric, filling every inch of the space like a storm breaking loose.

The engineers behind the glass exchanged glances, nodding along, clearly impressed. But you couldn’t look away from her. She was just so lost in it, eyes half-closed, completely in sync with the music, her body moving with each note.

The final note rang out, vibrating in the air before fading into silence. Ellie exhaled, letting her hands drop from the strings, her chest rising and falling from the energy of it. The studio was still, the only sound the distant hum of equipment and your own uneven breath.

You stilled there for a moment, breathless, still processing what had just happened. Ellie looked at you, a small, satisfied grin tugging at the corners of her lips.

"Well…" Ellie murmured, voice still slightly hushed, as if she didn’t want to break whatever was left of the moment, "that felt pretty damn good."

You let out a soft chuckle, shaking your head. "You weren’t kidding about that solo."

"Told you. Guitar’s like a second language."

The night had settled in by the time you and Ellie finally sat back, the last echoes of the song still lingering in the quiet of the studio. The rest of the team had packed up and gone home hours ago, leaving just the two of you in the dimly lit space, surrounded by empty coffee cups, the lingering scent of guitar polish, and the faint hum of the amplifiers still cooling down.

Ellie stretched her arms over her head before slumping back into the couch with a groan. “Jesus, I think I just aged ten years.”

She let her head tip back against the cushions, exhaling loudly. “If this shit doesn’t at least get us a Grammy nom, I’m gonna start throwing hands. Nominations drop in a month—let’s just drop it next week and shake things up.”

You smirked, rubbing your tired eyes. “Oh yeah, because that’s why we did this. For the awards. Not for, you know, the love of music or whatever.”

Ellie scoffed, lifting her head just enough to shoot you a look. “Hey, I love music. I also love validation. Sue me.”

You smirked, stretching your arms over your head. “So we just randomly drop this track like we’re Beyoncé?”

She rolled her eyes. “Yes, because you and my band are exactly like Beyoncé.” She waved a hand dismissively. “I’m just saying, the timing is perfect. This song hits, it gets people talking, then—boom—albums drop next month, and we ride the wave.”

You hummed, pretending to consider it. “Or we just look like we’re trying too hard.”

Ellie scoffed, sitting up straighter. “Okay, first of all? Rude. Second? That’s the game, babe. Build hype, get streams, make money, and do it all over again.”

She smirked. “You know, the thing we’re really fucking good at.”

You couldn’t argue with that. “Guess we’re really doing this, huh?”

“We always were. We just finally caught up to it.”

Your gaze flickered to her, but she wasn’t looking at you. Instead, she reached for the remote, pointing it at the soundboard. “Anyway. Let’s hear it again.”

With a lazy press of a button, the track began to play through the speakers. The first soft notes filled the room, wrapping around you like a familiar embrace, yet somehow new. You exhaled slowly, sinking into the sound.

Your voice wove through the melody, steady yet raw, laced with something unspoken. Then came Ellie’s guitar—rich, electric, sharp in all the right places. The solo hit, wild and untamed, yet perfectly in sync with everything else.

But Ellie suddenly frowned.

“Nope. No, no, no. I need to fix that part.” she muttered, already reaching for her guitar. “That transition into the bridge? It’s good, but it could be better.”

“Ellie, we’ve been at this for hours. It sounds perfect.” you protested, but she was already plugging back in, tuning absentmindedly as she muttered to herself.

“Just one more take,” she insisted, brushing her fingers over the strings, testing the sound. “I swear, just one. Then I’ll be done.”

You sighed, shaking your head with a tired smile. “Fine.”

She started playing again, her fingers moving effortlessly over the fretboard, chasing perfection. The solo filled the space between you, between the rise and fall of your breath, between the erratic thrum of your heartbeat and the tightening in your chest.

But the music wasn’t what had you frozen in place.

It was her.

Ellie played like she always did, because she didn’t just know the guitar—she was a part of it. Every note came effortlessly, pouring from her like something inevitable, a feeling too strong to hold back.

And you watched her, not just in passing, not just because she was there, but because you couldn’t not look. Because something about this moment, about her, held you captive.

The way her eyes fluttered shut as she let herself get lost in the music, the soft crease in her brow when she leaned into the heavier notes, the way her fingers moved—confident, sure.

The way the muscles in her forearms flexed with each shift, veins peeking through the skin as she held down the chords, calloused fingertips plucking the strings like she was pulling something straight out of your ribs.

Like this whole song was about you.

Like she had done this for you.

Something inside you twisted, sharp and breathless. A flicker of recognition sparked at the edges of your mind, something old and undeniable, that had always been there but had never made itself known.

Your throat went dry. Your heart stuttered. Your hands felt too still, too heavy in your lap. And you panicked.

Because this wasn’t new. This wasn’t sudden.

This had been there all along.

It had been buried under layers of denial, tucked beneath every sarcastic remark, hidden behind every casual touch and lustful night, sitting between the lines of late-night high conversations. It had been lurking in every stolen glance, every fleeting moment where the world felt just a little too small when she was near.

You had fallen for her.

And really fucking hard.

From the very beginning, and you hadn’t even realized it. From the first time you saw her, slouched in that goddamn booth, whiskey glass hanging lazily between her fingers, looking at you like she already knew something you didn’t.

From the first time she whispered in your ear, voice low and teasing, meant to make you squirm—and it did. From the first time her fingers grazed your skin, casual but charged, a warning and a promise all at once.

From the first time you went to that damn hotel room with her.

You had told yourself it was just sex. That it was nothing. A transaction between two people who found temporary relief in the heat of a moment and then walked away unscathed.

But that was a lie.

Because that first night? That first night ruined you.

You still remembered the way she kissed you, rough and desperate, like she was trying to drink you all at once. The way she had stripped you down, piece by piece, until there was nothing left between you but the raw, undeniable truth of it all.

You pretended it didn't mean anything. You got up. You got dressed—in her clothes—and then walked out of that hotel room like you hadn’t just left a piece of yourself behind. Like you weren’t already unraveling at the seams.

And you didn’t know, couldn’t have known, that decision would alter everything. That it would pull you into something much bigger than the both of you—a whirlwind of blurred camera flashes and endless headlines, of fake emotions that didn’t feel so fake, of rehearsed appearances that started to feel too real.

That morning, you thought you were walking away.

But really, you were stepping straight into something you’d never be able to escape.

Straight into her.

Because it was just that easy to get lost in her. In the way she moved, the way she touched you, the way she made you feel like the only thing that mattered in the world for just a little while. And the more you gave in, the harder it became to pretend you weren’t already gone.

But that wasn’t supposed to happen.

Not with her.

Ellie was untouchable. A heartbreaker. A groupie-fucker. She burned through people like cheap lighters, flicked them open, used them until they ran out, and tossed them aside without a second thought.

She didn’t do love. She barely did attachment. You’d heard about it. Hell, you’d even seen it.

She was reckless and shameless and easy with her affections—until she wasn’t. Until she got bored. Until she found someone else to light up and burn out just as fast.

And somehow, without even trying, she had done the same to you.

And now, sitting across from her, watching her get lost in the music, feeling the weight of everything that had led you here, it all slammed into you so hard it made your head spin.

Ellie struck the final note and let it ring out, a slow smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. “Okay,” she breathed. “Now it’s perfect.”

She turned to you, eyes shining with that stupid, infuriating confidence of hers, and it made your stomach drop. Because she had no idea what she’d just done to you. No idea that in fixing one tiny flaw in the song, she had broken something irreparable in you.

With a casual press of the button, she played the song again. And this time, it was different.

Not because the notes had changed. Not because the mix was better. But because you knew. Because there was no turning back from this. Because suddenly, every lyric felt heavier, every chord sharper, every second more fragile.

She leaned back, kicking her boots onto the table, stretching like a lazy cat. “Alright, verdict?”

You forced yourself to speak, to pretend like your entire world hadn’t just tilted on its axis. “Eh. Could be worse.”

She gasped, scandalized. “Excuse me? Could be worse?”

“I mean, I dunno. Feels like the guitar is a little… show-offy.”

Ellie looked genuinely offended. “Show-offy?”

You shrugged. “Just saying, it’s a lot of wailing.”

“Babe, that was one of my best solos. That was—you know what, you don’t deserve to hear my genius ever again.”

You kicked her lightly with your foot. “I’m kidding, relax. Your little wailing session was nice.”

“Nice?” Ellie clutched her chest like you had physically wounded her. “Unbelievable. I pour my heart and soul into this song, and all I get is ‘nice’?”

You rolled your eyes. “Okay, okay, fine. It was—what's the word? Transcendent?”

She narrowed her eyes at you suspiciously. “Damn right it was.”

Then she smirked, reaching for her drink, the ice clinking softly against the glass. And you let yourself laugh—let yourself sink into the moment, into the ease of it. Let yourself pretend, just for a little longer, that everything was exactly as it should be.

Pretend you weren’t drowning in something you were never supposed to feel.

But there was no escaping it now. No undoing the realization that had cracked through you like lightning splitting the sky. No unknowing the way your heart beat differently when she looked at you, no taking back the way her presence had rewired something fundamental in you.

This was the point of no return. A moment so sharp, so irreversible, that it changed everything in its wake.

Because from the very start, you and Ellie had been heading straight for impact—drawn together by something neither of you could fight, totally inevitable.

And It had all begun the moment you collided.

← 𝑐𝘩𝑎𝑝𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑡𝘩𝑟𝑒𝑒 | 𝑚𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡 | 𝑐𝘩𝑎𝑝𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑓𝑖𝑣𝑒 𝑡𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑒𝑟 →

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࿐♡ ˚.*ೃ OMFG GUYS. THIS DUMBASSES FINALLY FUCKING REALIZED WHAT WE AAAALLLL KNEW SINCE THE BEGINNING!!! GOD SAKE NOT EVEN MYSELF CAN WAIT FOR CHAPTER FIVE. I did like 30 proofreads, but there might still be a few grammar mistakes here and there—sorry in advance, english isn't my first language and I will be happy to receive constructive criticism!.

Please leave a comment if you’re interested in being on the permanent taglist for this series!

see ya'll soon, stay tuned ;)

[taintedcigs]

i slept with someone from corroded coffin and all i got was this stupid song written about me.

ROCKSTAR!FBOY!EDDIE X READER

summary: fooling around with a famous rockstar who's a notorious playboy sounds perfect on paper, until you catch feelings for him. that's why you decide to end things, to not get your feelings get hurt, and its all going perfectly, until eddie releases a song, written all about you.

warnings: smut, p in v, MINORS DNI!!!!, pet names, praising?, lovey dovey, kinda angst and arguments, drgs & alcohol mention, swearing? idk this is kinda cheesy n cute with a mix of fluff sprinkled honestly!

author's note: the indented parts are texts between steve and reader and thenn reader and eddie. they look confusing as fuck im sorry i just wanted to make them look unique but they look stupid. also yes. i patted myself in the back after i found this title (thank you fob). and yes the lyrics are inspired by i don't care im on a fob kick sue me! and ofc fboy!eddie isn't actually that much of a fboy bc if i can't write lovesick eddie ill die. this is super cheesy so i still struggled a lot but UGH. not proof-read ignore all mistakes

also credits to @dumplingsjinson for the prompts! (i changed them but still!) and @saradika for the dividers! pls like + rb + interact w me in anyway to support my writings!! ty!!

DINGUS sent you a spotify link. did you listen to this? yeah. its kinda romantic. no. the lyrics are insane. n all about u okay? are u at the party rn? yeah. u comin? soon he’s there too u already knew that, didn’t u?  false accusations r rude, steve.

You click your phone off with a groan, but he was right. You couldn’t stay away from him, and maybe, just maybe, this was your way of running into him, accidentally. 

Because ever since he released the song, the tabloids had gone crazy with it, half of the lyrics screamed you and all of the old headlines pointed at you, the mystery girl Eddie used to be seen with, and you really were growing tired of seeing your name next to “Munson’s new girl.” 

Because you weren’t his new girl, you weren’t his anything. He was a cocky asshole who was good with a guitar and was even better at fucking. And that was something both of you could relate to, the only thing you had in common with him. Or, so you thought. 

But of course, as with everything else, the things between you changed, you started staying over, he started staying over, and the two of you even went on fucking dates, disguising them under ‘we were just hungry, is all.’ 

You tried to keep up the cool girl act, like you could fuck someone and not catch feelings. Every inch of you itched not to care, to act like it was all fine, but it was all fucking bullshit, you cared, so fucking much that your chest ached. The more you got to know him, the more you fell for him, and the more you fell for him, the more you realized there was no fucking way this would work. 

Cocky rockstar who spent more time doing drugs than sleeping, with girls all over him? The imaginary red flag bells rang in your ear, even now. He wasn’t looking for a relationship and you knew that. That’s why you ended it two months ago. Or at least, you started ignoring him two months ago. 

Yet, he had been calling and texting you, wanting to meet up, drunken slurs of nonsense, gibberish voicemails, and yet you never answered, because if you did, you knew you’d be back to pathetically swooning over him.

Until today, just because of that stupid song, like it meant anything. That douchebag probably wrote songs about every girl he fucked. 

You weren’t special. 

Another ding sound from your phone almost startled you, the contact name made you groan even louder. “don’t FUCKING answer.” That didn’t mean shit. It was just something stupid to make you feel better that you couldn’t stay away from him, because you knew, deep down that if you really didn’t want him to contact you, you would’ve deleted his number, and blocked him. You were too chicken shit to do that, and still desperately wanted to hear from him. 

So you settled on that contact name. Like it made a difference, like it changed anything. 

DONT FUCKING ANSWER did you listen to the song?

Don’t fucking answer. The contact name should be enough to convince yourself that.

Too late.

                                                                   no. don’t lie to me, sweetheart.                                                                            why would i lie?

You sink into the couch, a much quieter corner of the party, not even bothering to socialize. Your brows furrow, index finger flying to your lips anxiously, as you chew on it to patiently wait for an answer.

You sip on your drink with a nervous gaze on your screen, barely noticing the way the couch sink further when someone else took a seat next to you. 

“Hi.” The gravelly voice pulls your attention away from the screen, making you set your drink aside as you look up, finding yourself face-to-face with him. 

Shaggy bangs cascade onto his forehead, and with your exaggeration, it looks longer than the last time you saw him. Black jeans cladded with chains. A graphic tee messily thrown over his heavily tatted chest, that you could still imagine right about now—pathetic. He looked just about the same, the deep dimple adorning his soft cheeks had seemed to disappear, wearing a scowl instead, that tiny voice in your head told you that was your doing, that maybe he was just as miserable as you. Maybe your feelings weren’t fully one-sided.  

Shit. 

“Eddie?” Squeaky, and annoying, you were sure that’s how your tone sounded, yet he didn’t seem to comment on it.

“‘m glad you remember my name, sweetheart,” he scoffs sarcastically, leaning further into the plush couch, elbow propped at the side, eyeing you with frustration. 

“W—what the hell are you doing here?” You stutter as if you weren’t expecting to run into him. Full of bullshit. 

“Did ya really think you could ignore me forever, huh?” He tilts his head slightly, almost expectedly, earning an eye roll from you. 

“I wasn’t ignoring yo—”

Eddie tuts quickly, his gaze locking onto yours with an intensity that cuts through the ambient noise of the party, “I thought we said no more lies, huh?” 

With a huff, “Why are you here, Eddie?” you mumble.

“Am I not allowed to party?” He banters, brows slightly raised, making you huff out an exasperated breath, your eyes bore into him, almost to signal him ‘Take this seriously.’

“I wanted to know what you thought.” He shrugs like it was normal to just come running after everything just to know what you thought of the song. 

“The song?” He nods in confirmation.

“Didn’t like it,” you confess, avoiding his gaze, but your brows betray you, lifting ever so slightly.

He tsks, shutting you off quickly, “You see that little quirk your brow did? That only happens when you lie, you can’t help it. You do that when I ask you if you ate the last pizza slice, or when I ask if you watched the next episode of the show we were supposed to watch together, or when you—” 

“Fine, fine! I liked it,” you groan, interrupting him and suddenly standing up from the comfort of the couch, being so face-to-face with him immediately making your nerves bubble.

“Just liked?” He tilts his head slightly, a smirk curving on his lips. 

A deep sigh of breath, “what do you want, Munson?”

He stands up with you, making you back away from him with a heavy footstep, the entire party was too loud and crowded, yet, in this stupid corner, it was just the two of you. “For you to admit that you loooved the song, and how much you missed me,” he sing-songs, taking a step closer to you, musky smell invading your senses, making you take a deep breath.

Both of you stand near the wall, and it should be awkward, it should be enough to make you leave, but all it does is draw you closer to him.

“You’re annoying.” 

“Is that why you’ve been avoiding me?”

“I wasn’t avoiding—” He tuts, with his stupid index finger up, rejecting your lie.

“I—I don’t know what you expected.” You shrug, so nonchalantly that his gaze narrows, chest aching with the implications of your words.

“We both knew this wouldn’t last forever, didn’t we?” You chew the inside of your lip to stop those tears that had been begging to flow ever since you listened to the song, wiping off that smirk on Eddie’s lips. 

“Would’ve been nice if I got a reminder, and not have been just fully ghosted, huh?” The brunette grumbles with a downturn of his lips, shaking his head in disbelief. 

“Oh, don’t act all high and mighty, isn’t that what you do all the fucking time?” you snap, gaze narrowed, and arms crossed against your chest. 

“Fuck girls and then leave them? Did it crush your ego this fucking much that I did before you could?” 

“What the fuck does that mean?” He retaliates. 

“It means I was smart enough to pull myself away from your bullshit,” you rasp, disdain written all over your face.The room seems to shrink as the distance between you decreases. 

Another step closer to you, and you didn’t realize your back had hit the wall now. “My bullshit? God, that’s fucking rich, if I seem to recall correctly sweetheart, you were in this as much as I fucking was!”

“Oh, was I?” You bark out a chuckle, cruel, mocking, “I don’t remember being okay with you fucking half the city.” Realization of how bitter and jealous that sounds, dawns on you much later than the words leave your lips, and thankfully, Eddie’s too fucking immersed to realize the double meaning of your words. 

“Are you fucking kidding? No strings attached! Non-exclusive! That’s what you fuckin’ signed up for!” His voice echoes, mirroring his frustration, and you open your mouth.

But he doesn’t let you speak further, cutting you off sharply. “Is this all because of that new guy you’re seein’?” 

“What? What guy?” 

“The one who was all over you earlier,” he bites out, jaw clenched, and you can almost taste his bitterness in the air.  

“The same one you fucked at Jeff’s party.”

“Are you stalking me, Munson?” 

“Did you just want an excuse to end things? Are the two of you serious or somethin’?” His voice wavered between anger and desperation, gaze pathetically searching for yours, to gauge your reaction.

You scoff. Did he really think you’d end things because of a stupid fling you had which in the first place occurred just so you could forget him? He was so goddamn clueless it drove you insane. 

But what you didn’t realize was that you were just as clueless, if not more, because why would he write a song all about you, if this was just about sex? Because who would get so jealous of someone they didn’t care about? 

Say my name and his in the same breath.

I dare you to say they taste the same. 

The lyrics from his stupid song swirled your thoughts, yet you were still too stupid to see it, weren’t you?

Another step closer to you, a dangerous game the two of you liked to play. He smelled alluring, a fucked up mix of nicotine, his musky cologne, and that damn leather jacket. “Do you really think, he could compare to me, sweetheart?” 

Say my name and his in the same breath.

“Tell me he’s fucking better, and he’s actually what you want, and I’ll fucking leave, I’ll bury all the other songs I wrote, tell me, and I’ll be out of your hair forever.”

I dare you to say they taste the same. 

And just like that, all the defenses you put up, all the times you ignored him, they are cracked, disappearing into thin air. You hate it, you hate that he has this effect on you, you can feel your mind getting hazier, eyes blinking rapidly to process what the fuck is going on, and his face is mere inches away from yours. You knew their names didn’t taste the same. And you knew he could never ever compare to Eddie.

“Tell me,” he encourages, dares you to. You fail to notice how much emotion his gaze carries, how the corners of his lips twitch, just at the thought of you finally admitting you don’t want him. His stomach turns at the thought, this is his last chance, he knows that, and he can’t fucking lose you. He can’t. 

And you don’t know any of that, but you knew, know that no one else could compare to him. And you hate yourself for thinking that, you hate yourself for falling for him, the world stops rotating on its axis when he’s in your peripheral vision, and it’s fucking disgusting. Pathetic. Stupid. Because you know the two of you have no chance. But here you are. 

“H—he is b—” Of course, your brow quirks up almost immediately, betraying you quicker than you can even attempt to lie. 

That dawning smirk appears on his lips again, it’s mocking, and just as much smug. You want to wipe it off of his stupidly pretty face. “Tell me,” he dares you, again. This time much cockier and confident, and you suddenly realize how small you feel under him.

“He isn’t,” your meek voice is barely audible.

And you don’t register the shaky breath he draws when the words leave your lips, giving him the confirmation he needs. You wanted him, he had no fucking clue why you ghosted him, yet you still wanted him. Just as much as he wanted you. 

Both of his hands were placed on the wall now, towering over you, making your breath get caught up in your throat. “Speak up.”

“No, fuck! You know he’s not, you know he could never fucking compare to you, you fucking know tha—” He shuts you up with a rough kiss, lips pressed against yours messily, letting the petty comments die down your throat. Because this is all he wanted, needed to hear anyway. 

“Up,” he grunts into the kiss, tapping your thighs, hoisting you up from your waist to help you wrap your legs around him, tight, he wants you at his mercy, locked to him. 

You wrap your legs around him, barely, the melty sensation in your knees making you so shaky that he barks out a laugh into your lips, holding you close, firm, the butterflies in your stomach traveling all across your body.

He lifts you up as if you are weightless, arms wrapped around you strongly as he carries you to the nearest empty bedroom, impressively without hitting your back anywhere, so roughly that your core throbs at the feeling of his arms around you.

“Baby,” he mutters as he lowers you down on the bed swiftly, smooth, gaze darkened and pupils blown wide, all the pent up desire waiting to explode. 

“Eddie,” you beg, shaky voice sounding purely angelic to his ears once he got rid of his shirt, shrugging it off with a huff, his fingertips grazing against your top, feeling your hardened nipples, causing gasps out of you, he’s quick to pull it over your head while you run your fingers up the grooves of his stomach, the tip of your fingertips almost burns everywhere you touch. 

He groans at the sight of your bare breasts, “missed thi-you,” he corrects himself, because that’s all he wanted anyways, you. 

He nips at your nipples, tongue good at giving attention to both of them, all wet and warm, making you squirm under his touch, you’re quick to get rid of everything else, leaving you in your panties, making him grunt. 

The pad of his thumb rubs against your left nipple, leaving goosebumps in its wake, while his other hand travels down your chest, then your stomach, finally drawing circles when it stops between your thighs, ghosting over your panties before he tugs them down your legs, spreading them apart with a slight hum, pupils blown so wide that you can’t admire those chocolate hues anymore. 

He visually drinks in that sight of you, laid down on the couch, eyes squeezed shut, back arched, and he hasn’t even touched you yet. You’re completely at his mercy and his chest aches with need. “So pretty like this f’me,” he coos into your chest, pushing his middle finger inside of you. Making you feel so good that you can’t stop the gasps coming out of your lips.   

Pleasure shivers through everywhere he sucks and touches, his finger eases into you when he adds another one, a moan escaping you quickly. “Need to be in here, sweetheart, d’ya have any idea how much I missed this?” 

You don’t. You don’t know about the sleepless nights, the drunken ones, the drug-induced ones in an attempt to recreate the high you gave him. It’s fucked up, it’s insanely toxic. Yet, he can’t get enough of you. 

His gaze upon you is dangerous, maybe it’s because he had missed you so goddamn much, or maybe because he didn’t know where this would lead, but it felt fucking sentimental, different somehow, and he could feel you, everywhere on his skin.

Your hips start rocking up against him when the pad of his thumb flicks over your clit, making you arch your back, whines, mumbles leaving your lips. And all he can muster is, “so goddamn beautiful, look at you whining for me.”

You can feel his bulge rub against your thigh every now and then, it’s distracting, almost agonizing. You desperately need it inside of you, you had missed him, missed his touch, missed the feeling of him filling you to the brim, you missed seeing his face contort in pleasure when he was inside of you, you wanted him to never forget you again. 

That’s why you feel so numb, can barely speak, and of course, Eddie notices, how unusually quiet you are, and he wants to make this unforgettable, just so you have another reason to come back to him. Just so you don’t leave him, just so you stay forever. 

“Gone too quiet on me, honey, tell me what you need,” he coos down at you, thumb still caressing your pussy, and all you can fucking do is chew down on your bottom lips, eyeing his bulge that was begging to get out. And he barks out a goddamn chuckle, “P—please, Eddie.” Pathetically leaves your lips. 

And normally he would make you beg, tease further, but he reaches to tug down his pants quickly, because fuck, he had missed you. And he can’t bear the thought of not being inside of you any longer. 

Thinking is not your strongest suit right now either, your brain is mushy, all the nights and days spent thinking about him, about this explodes into your body. Your pussy aches when you finally see his cock again, a sound of need leaving your lips as you eye his length, so big that pleasure ripples through you, especially when you see his gushy tip, glistening with pre-cum. 

You want every fucking inch inside of you, and Eddie’s more than ready to oblige, “What do you need, baby? Tell me.”

“Need you, Eddie,” you moan, all fucked out, his fingers slip in and out of you still, but it isn’t enough for him. He needs more, he craves your validation like he never has before. 

“God, you’re soakin’ my fingers, princess,” he grunts, wedging himself between your thighs, weeping cock drips onto your inner thighs, making you moan breathlessly. “Tell me exactly what you fuckin’ want, honey.”

“Eddie.” His name sounds like silk, even when it’s so lewd, Eddie decides, and it makes him let out an impatient huff. “P—please. Need you to fuck me.” It’s so goddamn desperate that you can feel heat rise to your cheeks, but it’s everything to him.

“Want you to fuck me like you mean it.”

“Oh, that’s easy, sweetheart,��� he grunts, lining his cock through your entrance, coating himself in your slick, enjoying your mewls before he doesn’t hesitate to push his cock inside of you, inch by inch, relishing the way you cry out for him. 

Greedily, you rock your hips into him, making him let out a frustrated groan. “Have no fuckin’ idea how much I missed this greedy cunt, sweetheart, shit.” He thrusts in a few more inches, and breathless moans and babbles of his name fill the air.

“Suckin’ me right in, baby, fuck, you’re so pretty like this, mhmm.” His cock moves inside of you, and your hands are wrapped around his back, desperately clawing at it, the fullness making you want more, “you like that, baby, like bein’ full of me?” A heavy sound leaves his lips, pathetic and you pulse around him. 

“S’so good Eddie, and s’big,” you barely manage to let out, and he watches you with that burning amber gaze, thrusting all the way in without hesitation. Those plushy lips that hang open, that filthy mouth, the prettiest fucking features—you, were going to be the death of him. 

Maybe it’s because you had missed him, or maybe because you hadn’t experienced this in a long time, or fuck, maybe, just maybe that the song had created a new type of need between the two of you. Using sex as a sort of connection that the both of you desperately needed. But, shit, was it this different this time. 

He felt different—his lips, touch, skin as it slapped against yours, it was different. 

Full. You feel so fucking full that your back involuntarily arches against him, fingers clenching desperately, your screams and cries filling the room the more he plunges inside of you, deeper, hungry, and just as greedy as you. 

“Yeah, better than that asshole?” It rolls off his lips so bitter and jealous that you can barely register it. Not being used to this possessive side of him, and it’s glorious, especially when he’s pounding his frustrations and insecurities into you. 

“Mhmm, so much better.” You clawed at his back, every thrust of his hip making you feel higher and higher, mind filled with nothing but him. 

“So pretty like this when you say my name, sweetheart… so goddamn beautiful, and all mine, yea?” He wants a confirmation, and wants to hear you say it, his head ducking between your breasts again to kiss, taste, suckle them. Make sure he never forgets it. 

“Wanna hear you say it.” He hums, the vibrations reverberating through your chest straight into your core, cock plowed so deep inside of you that you can barely speak through your cries, hitting that sweet spot that every other asshole misses. 

You’re too scared to give him what he wants. But you feel him, everywhere, and you still want more, of course, you’re his. That’s all you fucking wanted anyway. Plushy lips shake as you gaze up at him, his amber hues are so sticky-sweet that you still struggle to process it, words come out in a ramble “All yours, Eddie.”

His mouth crashes onto yours roughly, desire coursing through both of your bodies, almost interconnected. “Shit, fuckin’ hell sweetheart, ‘m not gonna last long.” His thrusts are getting sloppier, yet you feel the ravaging desire coursing through your veins. 

“So perfect,” he murmurs, the kiss he lays on your lips just as relentless, not letting you breathe or think for a goddamn second, you’re so goddamn close.

And you wonder, how the fuck did you even go two months without this? Without him?

“Eddie!” You cry out once you feel the pad of his thumb rubbing against your clit, eyes squeezed shut as your orgasm washes over you. Pure bliss overtakes you while you claw at his back, his body tenses, and cock flexes as he cums inside of you, groans and curses left in your hair. 

Minutes pass of you lying next to each other, breathless, processing everything that just transpired. And you should feel guilty, embarrassed, and should run to the hills for doing this with him again. 

But you’re obsessed, addicted. He’s like an excitement that you’re sure you’ve never felt before, running through your veins, like a fucking drug. 

Both of you get dressed in silence, the party booming outside is quick to bring the two of you back to reality, and out of the trance that he pulled you in. 

He breaks your bewilderment with a slight “Fuck.” Standing on the opposite side of the bed before he fully turns to you. “This wasn’t—I was supposed to talk to you.” He mutters, fingertips anxiously running through his tousled hair.

Caught off guard and awfully curious, you mumble, “About what?”

“The song…”

“I told you I liked it.”

His brow furrows deeper, and he shakes his head in frustration. “No, that’s not it—uh, did you not listen to the lyrics?”

“I did.”

“And?”

Your face searches his for some clarity, you take a step closer to him, the distance between the two of you was still awfully much according to him. “What are you asking of me, Eddie? Did you really think one song would just solve everything?”

“You don’t get it, do you?”

“W—what am I supposed to get Eddie? You wanna have your cake and eat it too! And I just can’t fucking do that, not anymore.”

“That’s—that’s not it!” His voice wavers, with urgency, and desperation in his tone. He takes a step forward, attempting to bridge the emotional gap, feeling so fucking frustrated that he wants to rip his hair out.

“Then fucking explain it to me!” You plead. 

“You want an explanation, fine! Fucking fine!” His frustration echoed through the room, pacing back and forth, making you take a deep breath. 

Was he… actually gonna do this? 

“You wanna know what the fuck I’ve been doing ever since you ghosted me?” He ran a hand through his hair, scared, gaze all mellow and vulnerable in a way you have never seen before. It makes your shoulders slump when you nod. 

“I go to those stupid Hollywood parties, meet asshole rockstars—the most interesting shit, yet somehow someway the thought of you will pop up in my mind, uncalled for, might I add, and then I can’t stop thinking about it, can’t stop thinking about you the whole fucking day.” Your eyes widen, trying to absorb his revelation, yet he won’t stop rambling and you feel your chest tighten with each word, fuck, he’s finally doing it.

“I—I never—shit! I never thought myself capable of feeling things like this, but fuck, you came along, with that goddamn smile, throwing a manicured middle finger right in my face, a—and just put up with my bullshit.” His voice softened, and he couldn’t help but trace the contours of your face, to desperately know if you were on the same boat, and you look at him with such glistened eyes that his heart leaps to his stomach. 

“My world flipped upside down, and you have proven me, so goddamn wrong that I don’t even know who the fuck I am anymore!” The tears almost welled in your eyes, because, fuck, there was no way this was real.  

You reached out instinctively, the corner of your mouth twitching uncontrollably. “E—Eddie, please… please stop saying things you don’t fucking mean.” 

“Things I don’t mean?” He gives you a breathy chuckle, ironic, and nowhere near funny. His eyes bore into yours, intense and searching. “Do you think I like feeling whatever the hell this is? I fucking don’t, you have me acting like someone I’m so unfamiliar with, to the point where it scares me. All I can think about is you, you, you, because you occupy every single space of my mind.” Your eyes soften, the room seemingly pulsing with his emotions, making you feel hot everywhere on your body. 

He felt the same way.

Eddie felt the same way. 

“B—but fuck I’m scared, honey, I’m so goddamn scared,” He admits, the vulnerability in his voice cutting through the tension before he’s at your side, calloused hands grabbing you by the shoulder, so softly that you melt into him.

“Because what if—what if all of this comes crashing down one day?” His voice trembles, gaze avoiding yours, he was scared, so goddamn scared of losing you. Forever. He doesn’t want that, he couldn’t afford that. 

“Just two months away from you fucking sucked. I didn’t—I don’t wanna feel these things, but you make it so hard not to.”  His forehead rests against yours, making you suck in a deep breath, it’s all so fucking sentimental, and all you wanna do this kiss him, tell him you feel the exact same way. Tell him about your fears. 

“And now I can’t fucking stop, fuck,” He confesses, admission punctuated by a frustrated sigh. 

“I wrote you a song,” he gently caresses your cheek, and you’re so scared to look up at him, to meet his tender gaze, because you know you can’t hold yourself back. 

“I came over to this party in a frenzy when I found out you’d be here,” he continued, his fingers tracing a delicate pattern along your jawline. “I—I just I haven’t even been able to touch another girl.” Your eyes snap open, you’re sure they’re almost heart-shaped now, with the adoration you look at him.

“And, do you actually fucking think I'd write songs for just anyone—” His question lingers in the air before you shut him up with a kiss, rough, sweet, and making Eddie feel dizzy all over, his head struggles to comprehend it all, breathless but he manages to react just in time.

The booming music becoming a mere background noise when he had you, mind swirling with all the possibilities and mouth begging to never stop tasting you. He wants to let you completely engulf him, feel you everywhere.

Everything he wanted and more.

He fucking hates himself for doing this, but he pulls away, mesmerized, eyes so wide that you can’t believe this is Eddie, he’s all flustered, salmon pink. And it makes a wider grin sit on your lips. “So… you—uh, what does this mean?”

You smile at him, lips widely stretching into a grin, as you shrug. “It means I feel the same, Eddie.” you admit, tone a tender reassurance. “That’s why I tried to shut you out… to try to move on, because I was scared—fuck, but I feel the same way.”

“So, does that mean we're dating now?”

“We can take things slow, figure everything out?” you mutter with a shy gaze, lips itching to twitch into a smile, again. “But I—uh—I like you, I really, really like you.”

“Gone soft on me already, sweetheart?” he mumbles with a stupid grin, making you elbow him softly, with an exaggerated playful huff. 

He’s quick to flinch, rubbing his arm as if you even delivered a powerful blow. “Ow—what the hell is wrong with you?”

“You think I’m going soft? You’re the one who wrote his feelings as an exaggerated love song!” 

He leans further slightly, his grin widening when you gave him those adorable eyes, finding you both equally amusing and endearing. “Oh… just you wait.”

You arched a brow, curiosity piqued, “What the hell does that mean?”

“The album is coming out soon, sweetheart. If you think this was an exaggeration, you should hear the whole fucking thing.”

That glint re-appears in your eyes just as quickly, gaze softening as you melt into his embrace.

“You’re an idiot, Eddie Munson.” You tease, scrunching your nose at him, so adorably that he leans down and presses a gentle kiss onto your hair.

He's an idiot, a total complete fucking idiot, but he's all yours.

[lee-laurent]

Home Away From Home -- Luke Hughes

Summary: Annika isn't gonna fall for the stupid hockey guy her parents are housing... right?

content: angst, implied smut but no explicit smut, some makeout scenes, fluff!!

wc: 8.9k

notes: i love this trope so here we are!! enjoy!!

Annika hadn't signed up for this.

She sat at the kitchen island, her arms crossed, watching her mom fuss over a plate of freshly baked cookies. George Thompson, her dad, was setting up the dining table with an enthusiasm that made her roll her eyes. The boys--twelve-year-old Alex and nine-year-old Flynn--were practically shaking with excitement.

"Do we really need cookies?" Annika asked, a touch of exasperation in her tone. "We're not adopting a puppy. He's just a guy. A hockey player, at that."

Andrea turned, a stern look on her face. "Annika, be polite. Luke is our guest. He's going to be a part of this family while he's here."

"Right," Annika muttered, "because this house isn't already crowded enough."

"Hey!" Alex piped up, shooting her a look of betrayal. "Luke Hughes is not just a guy. He's going to play for the Devils! He's super awesome!"

"Yeah!" Flynn added. "And he's way cooler than your boring boyfriend."

Annika groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. "For the last time, Bryce and I broke up like three months ago."

"Probably cause he wasn't cool like a real NHL player!" Alex nodded.

Andrea shot the boys a warning glance but said nothing as she placed the plate of cookies at the centre of the table. "All I'm saying, Nick, is that this is a big adjustment for him too. He's young, he's new to Jersey, and he needs a supportive home environment. So please, try to make him feel welcome."

Nick refrained from commenting, though her skepticism must have been obvious, because her dad chuckled. "Come on, Nick. You might like the kid. Who knows?"

She doubted it. Sure, Luke Hughes was talented--she'd heard her brothers talk about him nonstop since her parents agreed to host him--but "some guy who skates for a living" didn't exactly sound like the type of perso she wanted to hang out with.

Still, when the doorbell rang, she couldn't help but feel a little curious.

~~

Luke hadn't expected to feel nervous.

But as he stood on the porch of the Thompsons' suburban house, duffle bag swung over one shoulder, his nerves hit him like a train. He rang the doorbell twice, the chime ringing out into the evening air.

The door swung open, and two kids stared up at him like he was a rockstar.

"Whoa," the older one--Alec or Alex, Luke couldn't remember--breathed. "You're really Luke Hughes."

Flynn just blinked, his jaw practically on the floor. "You're so tall," he finally said, wide-eyed.

Luke laughed awkwardly, glancing past the kids as an older man appeared in the doorway.

"You must be Luke," George said warmly, extending a hand. "Come on in, son. Welcome to our home."

"Thanks for having me," Luke said, stepping inside. The house smelled like cookies and furniture polish--cozy and warm, a sharp contrast to the hockey house he'd lived in the last two years.

The rest of the family came into view, and Luke felt the weight of their attention. A kind-looking woman who must've been Mrs. Thompson smiled warmly, and then his gaze landed on the girl standing behind her.

She was... unexpected.

Annika's arms were crossed, her expression unreadable. She didn't seem particularly thrilled to see him, though Luke couldn't tell if that was because of him or if she was just naturally unimpressed by life.

"This is Annika, our oldest," Andrea said, gesturing to her daughter.

Luke offered a hand. "Hi."

"Hey," Annika replied shortly, barely glancing at him before turning to her mom. "Can we eat now, or...?"

Luke's hand fell awkwardly to his side. Okay, then.

~~

Luke followed the Thompsons into the dining room, where the table was already set with a plate of cookies and some milk. He wasn't sure if it was meant to be welcoming or if they thought he was still ten years old, but the gesture was nice.

"Sit, sit!" Andrea said, waving him toward the table like he was royalty.

He slid into a chair, his bag at his feet. Across the table, the two boys continued to gape at him like he had two heads.

"Can I touch it?" Flynn blurted out, and Luke's eyebrows shot up.

"Your hockey stick," Alex clarified, giving his brother an exasperated shove.

"Uh, yeah, sure," Luke said, chuckling nervously. "I left it by the door. I can show you later."

"Awesome!" Flynn squealed.

Nick, leaning against the doorway with her arms still crossed, looked like she might die of secondhand embarrassment. Her blue eyes were narrowed in thinly veiled irritation.

"Boys, give him a minute to settle in," Andrea scolded softly. "Luke, you can call me Andrea, and that's my husband George." She gestured at her husband, who was helping himself to a cookie. "You've met the boys, Alex and Flynn."

"Yep," Luke said with a smile. "They're... enthusiastic."

"And Nick already introduced herself."

"Nick?" Luke tilted his head, confused.

Annika sighed as though she'd had to explain this a million times. "It's short for Annika. You know, like a nickname?"

"Oh. Got it."

Luke was quickly starting to realize that Annika wasn't the "warm and fuzzy" type.

"Nick's a student at Rutgers," George chimed in, as though sensing he needed to fill the silence. "She's studying communications. Smart kid, but she's a bit of a grump."

"Dad," Nick said sharply, though her cheeks flushed slightly pink.

"Don't mind her," George added with a conspiratorial grin. "She's just mad she doesn't have her bathroom all to herself anymore."

Nick shot Luke a look, and he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Sharing a bathroom? Great. This was going to be... interesting.

~~

By the time Luke hauled his duffle bag up the stairs, he was ready to crash. The Thompsons were nice--mostly--but the whirlwind of introductions had left him drained.

"This is you," George opened a door at the end of the hall. The room was small but tidy, with a twin bed, a desk, and a window overlooking the backyard.

"Thanks," Luke said, dropping his bag onto the bed.

"Bathroom's just down there to the left," George added. "Sorry in advance if Nick complains about you using it. She's not used to sharing."

Luke nodded, unsure how to respond. George clapped him on the back and left, leaving him alone to unpack.

"Just so we're clear," Nick showed up in the doorway. "I don't care if you're some big hotshot hockey player. It's still my house, and if you leave your gross hockey gear lying around, I will throw it out."

Luke blinked, caught off guard. "Uh... noted?"

"Good," she said, her tone sharp enough to cut steel. She started to leave, then paused, glancing over her shoulder. "And don't take forever in the bathroom. Some of us actually have places to be besides the hockey rink."

Before he could respond, she was gone, leaving Luke standing there with a pair of socks in his hands and the faintest trace of a smirk on his face.

She was definitely going to be a challenge.

~~

Nick woke up the next morning to the sound of running water and muffled thud from next door. Groaning, she rolled over and squinted at the clock on her nightstand. It was barely 6:30 a.m.

"Seriously?" she muttered, pushing the covers off.

Her first day sharing a bathroom with Luke was off to a fantastic start. Wrapping herself in her fluffy robe, she shuffled out of her room, only to nearly collide with Flynn, who was standing in the hallway, clutching his toothbrush.

"Is he still in there?" Nick asked, jerking her thumb toward the bathroom door.

"Yeah," Flynn said, his voice tinged with awe. "I think he's doing hockey stuff. Like stretches or whatever."

Nick raised an eyebrow. "In the bathroom?"

Flynn shrugged, and Nick let out an exasperated sigh. She banged on the door. "Hey, Hughes! Some of us need to use the bathroom too, you know!"

There was a brief pause before the door cracked open, revealing a very shirtless Luke. His hair was wet, beads of water clinging to his skin, and he held a towel loosely around his waist.

Nick froze.

"Uh... sorry?" Luke said, looking sheepish. "I didn't think anyone else would be up yet."

"Yeah, well," Nick snapped, forcing herself to look anywhere but at his chest, "you're not living in a bachelor pad, so maybe keep it moving."

"Right. Got it." He stepped aside, gesturing toward the sink to let her pass.

Nick brushed past him, her cheeks burning, and shut the door firmly behind her.

~~

When Nick made it to the kitchen, she was still fuming. Flynn and Alex were already seated at the table, shoveling cereal into their mouths like Luke sat across from them, wearing a hoodie and looking way too innocent.

"Morning," Andrea chirped, sliding a plate of scrambled eggs in front of Nick. "Sleep okay?"

"Would've been better if someone didn't turn the bathroom into his personal sauna," Nick muttered, shooting a pointed look at Luke.

To her annoyance, he just smirked. "I'll set an alarm for 6:29 next time. How's that?"

Alex snorted milk out of his nose, and Flynn started laughing so hard he nearly fell out of his chair.

"Luke's funny," Flynn declared, as though it was groundbreaking news.

"Luke's annoying," Nick corrected, stabbing her eggs with a little more force than necessary.

Andrea sighed. "Annika, be nice. Luke, honey, make sure Annika has time in the bathroom too."

"Yes ma'am," Luke grinned.

Nick glared at him, but his smile only grew.

~~

Nick had classes at Rutgers until late afternoon, which was usually her excuse to escape the chaos of her house. Today, though, chaos seemed determined to follow her.

She was sitting at her favourite coffee shop near campus, trying to focus on a group project, when her phone buzzed with a text from Alex.

Alex (12:34 PM): Guess what??? Luke said he'd come to my game on Saturday!!!

Nick rolled her eyes but responded anyway.

Nick (12:35 PM): wow! cool, bud. tell him to pack an extra helmet in case you miss a slapshot

Her phone buzzed again almost immediately.

Alex (12:36PM): u r not funny

Nick smirked, but her amusement was short-lived. A voice behind her said, "You look like you're plotting someone's downfall."

She turned to see Luke standing there, hands shoved in the pocket of his hoodie, looking slightly out of place in the sea of students.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, frowning.

"Your mom said you had the extra car... and I need a lift to the rink."

Nick blinked. "So you walked here? Just Google how to walk to the rink."

Luke shrugged. "Figured you'd just let me borrow the car."

She sighed, grabbing her laptop and shoving it into her bag. "Fine. Come on."

~~

That evening, after dinner, the boys dragged Luke into the living room for a mini hockey practice. Flynn wore a devishly determined look as he tried (and failed) to get the puck past Luke, while Alex gave commentary.

Nick watched from the sofa, trying not to smile. It was hard to keep her guard up when Luke was crouched on the floor, pretending to dramatically miss a save just to make Flynn cheer.

"He's good to them," Andrea whispered, sitting down beside her.

Nick blinked, startled. "Huh?"

"Luke," Andrea said, nodding towards the game of floor-hockey. Luke had ruffled Flynn's hair, earning a high-pitched giggle, and Alex was laughing so hard he had to clutch his side.

"Yeah, I guess," Nick admitted reluctantly. She wasn't ready to admit that Luke might've been slightly, a tiny bit okay-ish.

~~

She wasn't sure when she started noticing the little things about Luke.

Maybe it was the way he always made time to answer Alex and Flynn's endless questions about hockey. Or how he seemed genuinely interested in her every meal her mom made.

Or maybe it was that he wasn't as cocky and annoying as she'd originally thought.

Not that she'd admit it.

Saturday morning found Nick sitting in the bleachers at Alex's hockey game, sipping a lukewarm coffee and trying to focus on anything other than Luke, who was perched on the edge of the bench next to Flynn.

"Think he'll embarass himself?" Luke asked, lowly enough that only Annika could hear.

"Alex?" Nick smirked. "Absolutely. He lives for the drama."

Luke laughed, and Nick hated how much the sound didn't make her cringe. He was wearing a Devils cap pulled backwards over his messy curls, a plain hoodie, and an easy smile. It was almost... attractive.

The game started, and Alex threw himself into it with the subtlety of a wrecking ball. He wasn't the most skilled player on the ice, but his enthusiasm was unmatched.

"Go, Alex!" Flynn shouted, nearly toppling over the edge of the bench.

Nick found herself glancing at Luke occasionally, surprised by how invested he looked. He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, watching Alex like it was Game 7 of the Stanley Cup Finals.

When Alex scored--a chaotic, scrappy goal that Nick was pretty sure only counted because the ref was feeling generous--Luke jumped up to his feet, clapping and cheering louder than anyone else.

"You act like it's the Olympics," Nick teased as he sat back down.

"What? That was awesome!" he said, still smiling like an idiot. "Kid's got guts."

Nick shook her head, but a smile tugged at her lips. She hadn't seen Alex light up like that in a long time.

The parking lot was full of parents chatting as they loaded their kids and gear into cars. Alex was still on cloud nine, his sweaty hair sticking to his forehead as he recounted his goal for the tenth time.

"And then I deked left, and the goalie totally fell for it!" Alex said, demonstrating with exaggerated movements.

"More like you tripped into the puck," Nick teased, ruffling his hair.

Alex scowled. "You weren't even paying attention!"

"I was," Luke cut in, slinging an arm around Alex's shoulders. "And I think it was a sick goal."

Alex beamed up at him, and Nick had to admit--grudgingly--that Luke's support was doing wonders for her brothers' confidence.

"Thanks, Luke," Alex said. "Maybe you could help me practice my shot sometime?"

"Yeah, anytime, dude," Luke said without hesitation.

Nick's mom appeared then, holding Alex's bag. "Luke, seems like you're fitting in just fine around here."

Nick rolled her eyes but didn't comment.

~~

Back at the house, Alex and Flynn insisted on replaying the game on the living room floor, complete with mini-sticks, a foam ball, and way too much shouting.

Nick sat, pretending to read while Luke crouched on the floor, acting as a goalie.

"Careful," Luke warned, blocking one of Flynn's shots. "I don't want to break another lamp."

"That was Alex's fault!" Flynn protested.

"Was not!" Alex shouted, aiming another shot.

Nick couldn't help but laugh as the foam ball ricocheted off the wall and into Luke's chest.

"Game over," Luke declard, collapsing dramatically onto the floor.

The boys groaned, but Nick was grateful for the silence as they finally trudged upstairs, still arguing about whose shot was better.

Luke sat up, running a hand through his hair. "Your brothers are intense."

"They're obsessed with you," Nick said, closing her book. "It's kind of nauseating."

"Jealous?"

"Of what? The chaos? No, thanks."

He stood, stretching, and Nick's eye flicked to the hem of his shirt, which rode up just enough to reveal a sliver of toned abs. She quickly looked away, hoping her cheeks weren't as red as they felt.

"Good game today," she said, standing and heading toward the stairs before he could say anything else.

"Thanks," he called after her, and there was something in his voice that made her stomach flip.

~~

Nick paced back and forth in her room, her phone pressed to her ear as she tried to keep her voice down.

"I'm telling you, Mia," she whispered, "he's insufferable. Like, he doesn't do anything that bad, but the fact that he exists in my house is enough to drive me fucking insane."

On the other end of the line, Mia snorted. "Translation: You're fucking obsessed with him."

"What! No?" Nick flopped onto her bed, glaring at the ceiling. "I'm just... he's in my way. All the time. The bathroom thing? Unforgivable. And he's always around, charming my brothers and being all polite to my mom, and--it's annoying!"

"You're mad because he's polite?" Mia teased. "Wow, Nick, you're really reaching."

Nick groaned, throwing an arm over her face. "You don't get it. He's--ugh. He's just one of those guys, you know? All... awkwardly cute and unexpectedly funny and stupidly attractive--"

"Uh-huh," Mia interrupted, her voice laced with amusement. "Say that last part again?"

Nick sat up, her face heating. "I didn't mean it like that!"

"Sure you didn't."

"Mia," Nick hissed, her eyes darting toward the door. "I'm serious. He's just--fine, okay? I'll admit it. He's hot. Like ridiculously, stupidly hot. But that doesn't mean I don't hate his guts."

"Hate his guts? You sure you don't just want him to rearrange yours?"

Nick groaned. "I can't stand you?"

"And yet here you are, calling me for emotional support about your hot hockey housemate," Mia said smugly. "What a tragedy."

"He's just... objectively attractive. I can hate someone and still recognize that they're good-looking. Those two things can coexist."

"Sure, Nick," Mia giggled. "Whatever you say."

Nick groaned, burying her face in her pillows.

Flynn crouched in the hallway, his ear pressed to the crack under Nick's door. Beside him, Alex knelt, covering his mouth so he didn't giggle too loudly.

"Did she just say Luke is hot?" Flynn whispered, eyes wide.

"She totally did," Alex grinned.

Flynn giggled. "We have to tell him!"

"Duh," Alex said, scrambling to his feet.

The boys darted down the stairs, giggling like they'd just discovered the best secret in the world.

Luke was sitting in the living room, flipping through channels on the TV, when they skidded to a stop in front of him.

"Luke!"

"You're not gonna believe this!"

Luke quirked an eyebrow, setting the remote down. "What's up, guys?"

"Nick thinks you're hot!" Flynn blurted out, unable to contain himself.

Luke blinked, caught completely off guard. "What?"

"She said it on the phone," Alex explained. "She was talking to her friend, and she said you're 'ridiculously, stupidly hot.'"

Flynn nodded eagerly. "She also said you're annoying, but mostly that you're hot."

Luke huffed out a laugh, leaning back against the couch. "She actually said that?"

"Yup!" Flynn said proudly.

Luke shook his head, a slow grin spreading across his face. "Alright. Thanks for the intel."

The boys high-fived and ran off, leaving Luke alone with his thoughts.

Ridiculously, stupidly hot, huh?

He filed that tidbit away, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. He didn't plan on using it right away--but when the right moment came, he'd be ready.

A few hours later, Nick came downstairs to grab a glass of water, grateful that the house was finally quiet. She froze when she saw Luke in the kitchen, leaning against the counter with a glass in hand.

"Couldn't sleep?" he asked casually.

"Nope," she said shortly, pouring herself some water.

As she turned to leave, she felt his eyes on her, and her steps faltered.

"What?" she snapped, glancing over her shoulder.

Luke shook his head, his expression unreadable. "Nothing. Just... interesting."

"What's interesting?"

"Nothing you'd want to admit," he said with a slight smirk, turning back to his drink.

Nick scowled, marching back upstairs, vowing to ignore whatever cryptic nonsense he was playing at. Behind her, Luke chuckled softly to himself, his smirk only growing.

~~

Annika was still determined to go about her life as if nothing had happened. Luke was still the irritating, too-hot-for-his-own-good hockey player who'd invaded her space. Nothing more.

But he wasn't making it easy.

It started small. Like how he suddenly seemed to be everywhere she was.

Case in point: the kitchen.

Nick had just finished a workout and was rummaging through the fridge for a bottle of water when Luke appeared, freshly showered and leaning against the kitchen island.

"Morning," he said, annoyingly chipper.

"Morning," she replied shortly, avoiding eye contact.

"Work out hard?" he asked, his gaze sweeping over her.

Nick's head snapped up. "What?"

"You're all flushed," he said innocently, taking a slow sip of his protein shake. "Maybe you overdid it."

Her cheeks heated further, and she hated that he'd noticed. "I'm fine," she said, grabbing her water and slamming the fridge shut.

Luke smirked, watching her retreat.

~

That weekend, Andrea sent Nick and Luke to pick up groceries. It was supposed to be a simple errand, but the tension between them was thick enough to cut with a knife.

Nick fiddled with the AUX, flipping through songs until Luke reached over and stilled her hand.

"Pick something already," he said, his fingers brushing hers.

The touch was brief but electric, and Nick pulled her hand back like she'd been burned.

"What's your problem?" she snapped.

Luke shrugged, trying to conceal his amusement. "No problem. You just seem... jumpy."

"I'm not jumpy," she said through gritted teeth.

"Okay?"

Nick gripped the phone a little tighter, silently cursing him and the stupid butterflies in her stomach.

~~

That evening, the family decided to have a movie night. Nick reluctantly joined, sinking into the sofa and snatching the bowl of popcorn.

Luke sat beside her, closer than necessary, his knee brushing against hers as he man-spread.

She stiffened, but he didn't move.

"Comfortable?" she asked, shooting him a pointed look.

"Very," he said innocently.

Andrea shushed them, and Nick tried to focus on the film. But every time Luke shifted, she was hyper-aware of the warmth of his thigh against hers.

Halfway through, he reached for the popcorn, knocking her arm with his.

"Do you mind?" she hissed under her breath.

"Not at all."

Nick gritted her teeth, determined to ignore him. But when the movie ended and she stood to leave, he softly caught her wrist.

"Hey," he said, locking eyes with her. "Relax. I'm just messing with you."

Her breath caught in her throat, and for a second, she couldn't look away.

"Whatever," she muttered, yanking her hand free and hurrying upstairs.

~~

Alex and Flynn barreled into the kitchen, sweaty and red-faced from playing street hockey.

"We crushed the neighbours!" Alex announced, dropping his stick and gloves on the floor.

Flynn followed suit, throwing himself onto one the barstools at the island. "Yeah, but Alex missed like ten open shots."

"Did not!"

"Did too!"

"Guys," Nick interrupted. "Gear in the laundry room. Now."

The boys groaned but trudged off, muttering under their breath. A minute later, Luke strolled in, hair damp from a shower. He grabbed a water bottle from the fridge and hopped to sit on the counter, watching Nick with his lopsided grin.

"You run a tight ship," he teased.

"Someone has to when my parents aren't home."

Before Luke could respond, the boys returned, still arguing.

"Whatever," Alex said, rolling his eyes. "At least I'm not as bad as Bryce."

Nick scowled, her stomach sinking. "What does Bryce have to do with anything?"

"Nothing," Flynn said, grabbing a cookie off the counter. "Just saying Alex is better than him at hockey."

Luke's brow furrowed, gaze flickering between Annika and the boys. "Who's Bryce?"

"No one," Nick glared at Alex.

"Her boyfriend," he said, completely ignoring her. "Well, ex-boyfriend. He was like super into hockey but I think he sucked. Nick used to help him with his stats for school."

Nick shot him another warning look. "Shut up, Alex."

Flynn, too young to realize the tension in the room, chimed in, "He coached Alex's team last year, but he's not as cool as you, Luke."

Annika could feel Luke's eyes on her and turned away, busying herself with wiping an already-clean counter. "Bryce is like... history. Can we drop it now?"

The boys shrugged, losing interest as they rushed off to play Xbox.

Luke lingered, arms crossed, watching her closely. "So... Bryce?"

Nick sighed, turning to face him. "It's not a big deal. We dated for a while. It didn't work out. End of story."

Luke nodded slowly, though his expression shifted slightly. "Sounds like a real winner."

Nick narrowed her eyes. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing... nothing. Just that he doesn't sound like much competition."

"Competition for what?"

He shrugged. "Relax, Annika."

"You're fucking insufferable," she mumbled, pushing past him and heading for the stairs.

~~

Luke was still thinking about Bryce.

He told himself it didn't matter, that it was none of his business, but the image of some guy hanging around Nick, talking hockey and being such an important part of her brothers' games, made his chest feel tight.

Jealousy wasn't a good look on him, but there it was, simmering just under the surface.

He was sprawled on the couch when Nick came downstairs again, her arms full of laundry. She stopped when she saw him, a guarded look on her face.

"Still brooding about Bryce?"

Luke smirked, trying to mask his annoyance. "Why would I brood about some guy I've never met?"

"Good question."

Her tone was casual, but the way she avoided his gaze told him she was more affected by their earlier conversation than she cared to admit.

She shook her head, going to walk past him. But just like the other night, he grabbed her wrist. "For the record, I don't think he deserved you."

Nick just stared at him, blinking slowly.

"Goodnight, Nick."

And with that, he got up and walked away, leaving a very confused Annika in his wake.

~~

The rain started in the late afternoon, a light drizzle that quickly turned into a full-on downpour.

By the time Nick got home from class, her sneakers were soaked, and her hair was plastered to her face. She shoved the door open with a grunt, muttering curses under her breath.

"Rough day?"

She startled, looking up to see Luke in the living room, also soaking wet, with his bag slung over his shoulder. He must've just gotten back from practice.

"Rain fucking sucks," she said shortly, kicking off her shoes and peeling off her wet socks and jacket.

"Not a fan of Jersey weather?"

"Not when I have to walk through it because someone took the car," she snarled, brushing past him on her way to the kitchen.

He followed, watching as she rummaged through a cabinet for a snack. "Where's the rest of your family?"

"Out," she said, grabbing a box of crackers. "My mom took the boys to the movies, and my dad's working late. Why?"

"Just curious."

Nick turned to look at him, but before she could reply, a sudden crack of thunder made the house shake. The lights flickered once, twice, and then everything went dark.

"You've got to be kidding me," she groaned, fumbling for her phone.

"Relax," Luke said, his voice steady. "It's just a power outage."

"No big deal for you, maybe," she muttered. "I've got work to do."

"Yeah? What kind of work?"

"The kind that requires electricity."

"Well, unless you can magically fix the power grid, I'd say you're stuck."

Nick rolled her eyes, but she couldn't ignore the flutter in her chest at the way his voice sounded in the dark--low and teasing, but with an edge she couldn't quite place.

"Great. Guess I'll just sit here and wait for the apocalypse."

"Or," Luke said, his voice closer now, "you could stop being so dramatic and light some candles."

Nick scowled, but another loud crack of thunder made her jump.

Luke laughed. "Scared of storms?"

"Of course not," she snapped, though her hands were trembling slightly.

"Right."

Nick shook her head, retreating to her bedroom, hoping to escape the weird tension that always settled between them. She lit a few candles, their warm glow casting flickering shadows on the walls, and tried to focus on her textbook.

But her thoughts kept drifting--to the storm, to the empty house, and to Luke.

She didn't even hear him knock.

"Hey," he said. "Mind if I hang out in here? It's kind of creepy downstairs."

Nick raised an eyebrow. "You're a professional hockey player, and you're scared of the dark?"

"Not scared. Just bored."

She sighed, gesturing for him to come in. He shut the door behind him and sat on the edge of her bed, his presence suddenly overwhelming in the small space.

For a while, they sat in silence, the sound of rain pounding against the windows filling the room.

"You're quiet," Luke said eventually.

"So are you."

He glanced at her, his eyes catching the candlelight in a way that made her stomach flip. "You've been weird around me lately."

"I'm always weird around you."

"Not like this," he whispered.

Her heart started thudding against her chest. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Nick."

She froze at the way he said her name--soft, almost pleading. When she finally looked at him, the intensity his gaze made her breath catch.

"Are we just gonna keep pretending this thing between us doesn't exist?"

"What thing?"

Luke huffed out a laugh, shaking his head. "You're really gonna make me say it?"

She didn't answer, and in the silence that followed, he got closer.

The air between them crackled, the storm outside quiet in comparison to the sound of her heart.

"I think about you... way more than I should."

Her breath hitched at his words, and he leaned in, his hand brushing hers.

"Nick," he whispered, his lips hovering just inches from hers. "Tell me to stop."

But she didn't.

Instead, she closed the distance, her mouth crashing against his in a messy kiss of spit and teeth.

His hands quickly found her waist, pulling her until they tumbled onto the bed. Hers found the curls at the nape of his neck. And outside, the storm faded into nothing.

~~

The storm had become nothing but a soft patter of rain against the windows. Nick lay across her bed, Luke's arm draped lazily across her waist as they caught their breath.

The room was warm and still dark, the flickering candlelight casting a soft glow over their bodies. Nick could feel the steady rise and fall of Luke's chest against her back, his skin sticky but still comforting against hers.

"You're sweaty," she mumbled, her voice muffled by the pillows.

Luke chuckled, the sound rumbling through his chest. "So are you."

She wrinkled her nose but didn't move, too content--and too tired--to care.

They lay there in comfortable silence for a while, the weight of what had just happened settling over them. It wasn't awkward, though. If anything, it felt... right.

Luke broke the silence. "You know, the candles really set the mood."

Nick snorted, turning her head to look at him. "Oh, totally. Very romantic."

"You don't think so?"

She rolled her eyes, biting her bottom lip. "Honestly? It might've been the most romantic sex I've ever had."

"High praise."

"Don't let it go to your head."

They fell quiet again, Nick tracing lazy circles on Luke's arm as his fingers skimmed along her hip.

"Can I tell you something?" Luke said suddenly.

"Sure."

"Your brothers... they told me."

"Told you what?"

"That you think I'm hot."

"They what?!"

"Yeah," Luke smirked, clearly enjoying her reaction. "Apparently, you were on the phone with your friend, and they overheard you saying I'm 'ridiculously, stupidly hot.'"

Nick stuffed her face in the pillows, groaning. "Oh my God. I'm gonna fucking kill them!"

"I mean," Luke continued, "I wasn't going to say anything, but now that we're here."

"Shut up."

He laughed, gently tugging her out of the pillows. "Hey, I'm flattered. Really."

"Don't be," she said, though the blush creeping up her neck betrayed her.

Luke leaned in, his lips brushing against her temple. "For the record, I think you're ridiculously, stupidly hot too. Still wanna kill your brothers?"

"Absolutely," she said, but her voice was lighter now, her cheeks still pink.

Although killing her brothers didn't really matter when she was laying in bed with Luke.

~~

Nick had no idea the thrill that sneaking around would give her.

There was something almost intoxicating about the stolen moments--the way Luke's touch would linger as he walked past her, the charged glances across the room, the whispered goodnights as they traded the bathroom.

It was dangerous and utterly addictive.

She hated how much she liked it.

Family dinners at the Thompsons were always chaotic (as were most things in their house). Andrea was bustling between the kitchen and the dining room, carrying plates of steaming food, while George tried to wrangle Alex and Flynn into their seats.

Luke sat across from Nick, his expression perfectly innocent as he buttered a piece of bread.

Nick didn't trust him for a second.

The meal started without incident--Andrea asking Luke about practice and an upcoming roadie, Flynn babbling about a school project, Alex loudly debating which NHL team had the best defence. Nick tried to focus on her food, keeping her gaze firmly away from the boy across the table.

Until she felt it.

A soft nudge against her ankle.

She froze, her fork halfway to her mouth, and glanced up. Luke's eyes were on his plate, the faintest hint of a smirk pulling at the corner of his lips.

Nick shifted her leg, but the nudge came again--this time more deliberate, slowly moving up her calf.

Her eyes narrowed.

Subtly, she kicked back.

Luke's smirk widened, but he didn't react otherwise, his foot pressing against hers in a way that made her stomach flip.

"Nick," Andrea said, snapping her out of the moment. "Pass the salad, please."

Annika blinked, her face burning as she shoved the salad bowl across the table.

"You okay?" her mom raised an eyebrow.

"Fine," Nick said quickly, glaring at Luke.

He looked up then, his smirk replaced with an innocent smile. "Everything alright, Nick?"

She wanted to throttle him.

Instead, she dropped her napkin on the floor, ducking under the table.

"What're you doing?" Alex asked as she crouched, fumbling for the napkin.

"Nothing," she muttered.

She grabbed the napkin--and Luke's ankle.

He jerked slightly, his leg pulling away, but she squeezed just hard enough to make her point before sitting back up.

"You sure everything's okay?" Andrea asked, her tone tinged with suspicion.

Nick forced a smile, her heart pounding. "Just peachy."

Across the table, Luke's smirk was back, but this time it was tinged with something darker--something that made Nick's breath catch in her throat.

~~

Later that evening, they weren't so lucky.

Andrea had sent the boys upstairs to clean their shared room while she and George tidied up the kitchen. Nick, seizing the opportunity, had slipped into Luke's room under the pretense of "helping him settle." As if he hadn't lived there for weeks.

Luke was waiting for her, his grin smug as he pulled her inside and shut the door.

"You're getting reckless," he teased, his hands sliding around her waist.

"You're the one who started it... and keeps tempting me," she shot back, her voice breathless as he backed her against the closet door.

"Is that so?"

Her lips found hers, and for a moment, she forgot all her worries--her parents, the risk, the fact that her brothers were just down the hall.

Until the footsteps started.

"Luke!"

Nick froze as Flynn's voice rang out.

"Shit," she whispered, shoving Luke back.

He stumbled slightly, but didn't stop smiling. "Relax."

The door burst open a second later, Flynn standing there with hockey stick in hand.

"There you are!" he exclaimed. "Alex and I want you too referee!"

Luke cleared his throat, stepping back even further from Nick. "Uh, yeah, for sure. Be right there."

Flynn squinted at his big sister. "What are you doing in here?"

"Helping him find something," she lied, her face burning.

Flynn shrugged. "Okay, whatever." He turned and darted back down the hall, yelling for Alex."

Nick let out a shaky breath, her head dropping back against the closet.

"That was close."

Luke chuckled, stepping closer again. "Too close?"

"Yes," she hissed, swatting his arm as he leaned in.

"You love it," he teased, his lips brushing her ear before pulling back. "I'll see you later."

And just like that, he was gone, leaving Nick to realize that she did, in fact, love it.

~~

The bathroom was filled with steam, despite the fan being on. The warm spray of the shower drowned out the storm that had started outside.

Nick leaned back against the cool tiled wall, her skin slick with water, as Luke pressed a line of soft kisses along her collarbone.

"This is so stupid," she mumbled, her hands sliding over his shoulders.

"Probably," he agreed, smirking as he pulled back to look at her. "But when have we ever done anything smart?"

"If we get caught--"

"We won't," he promised, pushing his lips against hers.

The sound of a knock at the bathroom door had them both pulling away.

"Luke?" Andrea's voice called from the other side of the door.

"Oh my God," Nick mouthed, her heart hammering inside her chest.

Luke held a hand up, silently telling her to stay silent, before clearing his throat. "Uh--yeah?"

"Have you seen Annika?" Andrea asked. "I thought she might be in her room, but she's not."

Luke shot Nick a panicked look, and she mimed strangling him, her lips forming "fix this."

"Uh, no," Luke said, scrambling for an excuse. "I think she said something about--uh--going for a walk?"

"A walk? In this weather?"

Luke winced, cursing himself for the lame excuse. "Yeah, she, uh...said she likes the rain. Said it's like refreshing or something?"

Nick buried her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking with silent laughter.

There was a long pause on the other side of the door, and Luke could practically feel Andrea's doubt seeping through the wood.

"Well, alright," she said finally, though her tone was still dubious. "Let me know if you see her, okay?"

"Will do," he said, waiting until he heard her footsteps retreating before turning to Nick.

She was doubled over with laughter now, her hands braced against the wall. "Refreshing?" she wheezed, still whispering. "That's the best you could come up with?"

Luke scowled. "You're welcome."

Nick pressed her chest against his, wrapping her arms around his neck. "Guess I should be grateful," she whispered, her lips brushing his ear. "You're quick on your feet when panicking."

"Yeah, well," his hands settled on her waist, "let's just hope your mom doesn't start asking more questions."

Nick smirked, leaning in to kiss him softly. "Guess we'll have to be more careful, huh?"

"Guess so."

~~

They'd barely recovered from their bathroom incident, but Luke seemed determined to push their luck even further.

They were standing in the kitchen, the rest of the family scattered--Andrea folding laundry upstairs, George in his office, and the boys glued to a hockey game on the TV.

Nick was just trying to make herself some tea, trying to ignore Luke's presence at the counter, when she felt him move closer.

"Relax," he wrapped his arms around her waist, leaning in his chin on her shoulder. "Nobody's around."

"Ugh, you're insane."

"Probably," he said.

"Luke, not here," she tried to escape his grasp, but his hockey training must've been paying off because he wouldn't budge.

"Why not?"

"Because we almost got caught earlier. You're pushing our luck. If someone walked i--"

Her words her cut off as he spun her around, her lips ghosting his. She crumbled instantly, her fingers gripping the counter as she kissed him back.

"Annika!"

"Fuck me," she groaned, jerking back so quickly she almost knocked the kettle over.

"Later," Luke retorted, earning a glare.

"What?" she called back.

"I need some help up here! Can you make your brothers' beds?"

"Uh--yeah! I'll be right there, Mom!" She pressed her palms against Luke's chest. "You're a bad influence."

He shrugged, moving to let her escape upstairs with her tea in hand, but not without giving her ass one last squeeze.

"I hate you."

"No you don't."

~~

Luke seemed determined to finish what they started in the shower, because he'd managed to be in the laundry room just as she was heading there to grab her mom a blanket.

"Are you fucking tracking me?"

"Just lucky timing."

"You're going to be the reason we get caught."

"Only if you scream," he teased, boosting her on top of the washing machine.

"Luke..."

"Relax," he pressed a kiss to her neck.

She really wanted to believe that they'd be in the clear down in the basement, but apparently her parents really wanted that spare blanket.

"Let's go, Nick! Chop, chop!" George shouted from the top of the stairs.

"Coming! Coming!"

"God, why is it so hard to get you alone?" Luke groaned.

"Welcome to my life."

~~

It was bound to happen sooner or later.

Nick knew their little game of sneaking around was risky, but she hadn't pushed it to stop. She blamed Luke entirely--his stupid smirk, his stupid face, the way he couldn't seem to ever keep his hands to himself.

But when the door to her bedroom flew open late one afternoon, she swore she had a heart attack.

"Annika!"

Her mom's voice was sharp, the shock in her tone unmistakable as she stood frozen in the doorway.

Nick and Luke jerked apart like they'd been electrocuted, the tangled sheets doing little to hide the situation.

"Mom!" Nick shrieked, her face going bright red as she scrambled to grab the blanket.

Andrea's eyes darted between them, her face covered in disbelief and mortification. "Luke?"

Luke, to his credit, managed a sheepish smile he sat up, adjusting his shirt and ruffling a hand through his hair. "Uh...hi, Andrea."

She blinked, her mouth opening and closing like she was trying to form words but she couldn't process what she was seeing.

"I--I'm gonna go see your father," she shook her head, backing out of the room and slamming the door shut behind her.

Nick groaned, burying her face in her hands. "We're so fucking dead."

Luke flopped back onto the bed, staring at the ceiling. "I told you to lock the door."

"Luke!"

"Yeah, this is... not ideal."

~~

The tension in the living room was palpable as Nick and Luke sat on the sofa, side by side, waiting for her parents to join them. The rest of the house was quiet for once--Alex and Flynn had been banished upstairs with strict instructions not to come down.

Andrea and George finally appeared, their expressions grim as they sat down across from the couple.

"Well," George began, clearing his throat. "This is, uh... unexpected."

Nick wanted to crawl in a hole and die.

Andrea crossed her arms, her gaze sharp as it landed on Luke. "I think we need to have a very serious conversation about boundaries."

Luke nodded quickly, the confidence he'd felt the last few days nowhere to be found. "Of course. Absolutely."

She turned to Nick, her tone just as firm. "Annika, you're an adult, and I understand that you're going to make your own decisions, but this is our home. And there are certain... expectations."

Nick groaned, slouching further into the couch. "Mom--"

"No," Andrea interrupted. "This is important. You're under our roof, and we expect you to be respectful of that."

George cleared his throat again, clearly uncomfortable. "What your mother is trying to say is, uh, we don't want anything... inappropriate happening here."

Nick buried her face in her hands, her voice muffled. "Can we not do this right now?"

"We absolutely need to do this right now," Andrea said, her tone leaving no room for argument.

She turned back to Luke. "We welcomed you into our home, Luke, and we expect you to behave like a gentleman. This... this cannot happen again. Do you understand?"

"Yes, ma'am," Luke said quickly, nodding so fervently it was a wonder his head didn't fall off.

"And that goes for you too, Annika," Andrea added, fixing her with a pointed look.

"I get it," she muttered, her face still hidden.

"Good," Andrea said, standing. "Because if I find you two in a... situation again, you're both going to regret it."

George stood as well, patting Luke awkwardly on the shoulder. "Just, uh, keep things... above board, okay?"

"Got it."

The parents left, leaving Nick and Luke in stunned silence.

After a long pause, Nick finally spoke, her voice still muffled by her hands. "I'm never leaving his house again."

"I don't know. I think that went pretty well," Luke let out a breathless laugh.

Nick finally dropped her hands to glare at him. "Pretty well? Are you kidding me?"

"Hey, at least your dad didn't kill me... or cut off my balls."

"You-- UGH!"

"If you say so."

~~

The shift in the house was obvious.

Andrea seemed to materialize whenever Luke and Annika were in the same room, her watchful gaze making Nick's skin crawl. George was less obvious but still lingered nearby, pretending to fiddle with the thermostat or check a sports score while clearly keeping tabs on them.

Even Alex and Flynn had picked up that something was wrong, their usual teasing replaced with curious glances and hushed whispering.

"Your mom's fucking scary," Luke said one evening, his voice low as he passed Nick in the hallway.

"You're telling me," she muttered, glancing over her shoulder to make sure nobody was around.

Luke smirked, leaning closer. "So... does this mean we're done?"

Nick frowned. "Done with what?"

"This," he gestured between them.

She hesitated, gnawing at her bottom lip. "I don't know. Do you really think it's worth getting caught again?"

Luke leaned against the wall, his grin softening into something more sincere. "Yeah. I do."

"You--"

"I'm insane, I know But I'm not ready to let this go. Are you?"

Her walls crumbled as he reached out, his fingers brushing against hers.

"Fine," she whispered. "But you have to keep it under wraps. I'm not dealing with my mom's wrath again."

"Deal."

~~

Keeping things under wraps was easier said than done.

Every interaction felt like a minefield, with Andrea constantly dissecting their every move.

Luke made it harder by being... well, Luke.

He would brush against her as he passed by. He'd lean in close to whisper something that wasn't remotely necessary.

It was maddening.

One night after dinner, they were in the kitchen, Nick washing dishes while Luke dried. Andrea was sitting at the table, her back to them, flipping through a magazine.

Luke bumped her hip with his, his voice low. "You're tense."

"Gee, I wonder why."

"She's not even looking," he grinned, reaching for a plate.

"She doesn't have to look. She knows everything."

"You're paranoid."

~~

Sitting in the backyard under the stars, finally having time together. Their hands were intertwined as they stared up at the sky.

"Is it really worth all the trouble?" Nick whispered.

"Of course it is," he replied, swinging their hands.

"Why?"

"Because I like you."

"Oh."

"Yeah, oh."

Nick didn't respond, but the smile on her face told him all he needed to know.

~~

A quiet afternoon in the Thompson house was hard to come by. The boys were upstairs playing video games, Andrea and George watching a show in their room.

Nick and Luke were taking advantage, lounging on the sofa and watching a movie.

Well, trying to watch a movie.

Luke kept nudging her with his knee, a silent plea for attention that she ignored for as long as she could.

"What?" she paused the movie, turning to look at him.

"Nothing. Just... thinking."

"Dangerous," she teased, though her stomach fluttered at the way he was looking at her--soft yet serious.

"Nick," he said, his voice lower. "I've been thinking about this for a while now."

"Okay..."

"I want to make this official," he said, his hand finding hers. "I know we've been sneaking around and keeping things quiet, but I... really, really like you. And I want to do this for real."

"You're asking me to be your girlfriend?"

"Yeah... I guess I am."

Nick hesitated. She knew this was risky, that saying yes meant inviting even more complications into their already chaotic situation.

But as she looked at him--his goofy grin, the way his thumb brushed over her knuckles--she knew she couldn't say no.

"Okay. Let's do it."

Luke's grin grew, and before she could second-guess herself, he leaned in and kissed her.

"Ew!"

They sprang apart, Flynn stood in the doorway, his face scrunched in disgust.

"What are you doing?" he demanded, pointing an accusatory finger at them.

Nick scrambled to her feet. "Flynn! Don't you knock?"

"This is the living room!" he retorted. "You can't kiss here!"

Luke cleared his throat, standing up and running a hand through his hair. "Uh, maybe we keep this between us, bud?"

"Why?"

Nick groaned. "Flynn--"

But he was already running toward the kitchen, yelling at the top of his lungs.

It didn't take long for Alex to join the chaos, and before Nick and Luke could figure out what to do, both boys were standing in front of their parents, firing off questions.

"If Luke and Annika get married, does that mean he gets to live here forever?" Flynn asked, his face alight with excitement.

"Wait, does this mean Luke is our brother now?" Alex added, his brow furrowed.

"Do you think Luke will take us to games since he's Annika's boyfriend?"

Andrea's eye widened, snapping to Nick and Luke, who were standing awkwardly in the doorway.

"Annika," she said slowly, her tone suspiciously calm, "is there something you'd like to tell us?"

Nick opened her mouth to respond, but no words came out. She glanced at Luke, silently begging him to say anything, but he looked just as panicked.

"Well?"

Nick swallowed harshly. "It's not what it looks like--"

"It's exactly what it looks like," Flynn interrupted. "They were kissing on the couch!"

"Flynn!" Nick hissed.

Andrea sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose as George rubbed the back of his neck.

"Annika," Andrea said firmly, "we talked about boundaries."

"I know! And we only kissed! We've been careful!"

"Careful? You were kissing in the living room!"

Flynn leaned over to Alex, whispering loudly. "Do you think they kiss a lot?"

Luke coughed, trying to stifle a laugh, but one sharp look from Andrea wiped the grin from his face.

"This isn't funny. We'll be having a conversation about this later."

"Great!" Nick threw her hands up.

~~

There they were, sat on the couch... again. Two angry parents in front of them like they'd just gotten in trouble for something stupid.

"Alright," Andrea said. "Start talking."

Nick glanced at Luke, who gave her a small, reassuring squeeze of the hand before she cleared her throat. "Look, I know this isn't ideal, but... Luke and I really like each other."

"Really like each other?"

Nick nodded, her voice steadier now. "Yes, and we've been trying to keep it low-key because we didn't want to make things weird for everyone else."

Andrea snorted. "Well, that worked out great."

"I know it's a lot to ask," Luke said, leaning forward. "But I care about Nick. A lot. And I don't want to mess up the trust you've shown me by letting me stay here, and I don't want to make things uncomfortable for your family. But I also don't want to pretend I don't... like Nick."

Her gaze softened slightly, though her expression remained guarded. She looked at George, who shrugged.

"They're adults," he said simply. "I'm not thrilled about it, but it's not like we can tell Nick who she can and can't date."

Andrea sighed, hands on her hips. "I guess that's true. But if this is going to continue, there are going to be rules."

Nick and Luke exchanged a quick glance, relief washing over them.

"Rules?" Nick asked cautiously.

"Yes, rules. First, no sleeping in each other's rooms. Doesn't matter if you're both adults, it's my house, that's my rule."

"Understood," Luke nodded.

"Second," she continued, "keep the PDA to a minimum. Especially in front of the boys. I don't need Alex and Flynn asking any more awkward questions."

"Agreed."

"Third...if I catch you breaking these rules, this arrangement is over. Got it?"

"Got it," they said in unison.

"Alright. As long as you respect the rules, I won't stand in your way."

"Thank you," Luke said sincerely.

"Don't screw this up, kid," George whispered to him as he left.

"I won't."

~~

A few months later, the whole Thompson family was packed into The Rock, cheering as the Devils faced off against the Pens.

Alex and Flynn were decked out in jerseys, cheering as loud as they could, while Andrea and George clapped politely whenever Luke's name was mentioned.

Nick sat by her brothers, trying (and failing) to hide her smile every time Luke skated by.

When he scored late in the first period, Flynn jumped out of his seat, yelling at the top of his lungs.

"THAT'S MY SISTER'S BOYFRIEND!"

Nick groaned, pulling her Hughes jersey over her red face as the people around them laughed.

But when Luke glanced at their section, his grin wide as he pointed toward her, she couldn't help but cheer just as loudly.

Because, for better or for worse, Luke was a large part of her life now. And she wouldn't have it any other way.

[h1nanii]

I loved your Plug!Law fic omgggg it ateeee!!! that was genuinely the spiciest thing of my day, do you think you could do another modern AU Law fanfiction? Maybe one where he’s a tattoo artist? Or a guitar player for a band? Oh and maybe some inspiration from the movie “Dinner in America” I’m not sure if you’ve seen it, but the watermelon song from John Q and Jane—would totally fit that line!

Maybe some nsfw too😌😏

love your works!!

Ask and you shall receive. I loved that movie btw.

Here’s “Tattooed—on Sheet Music.” Requested by @yvngnanie

Pairings: Rockstar!Law x Vocalist!Reader

Inspired by the 2020 indie film “Dinner in America”

[Genre: ModernAU! Romance, Slight slow-burn, Law doesn’t trust Reader at first. Bandmates to lovers. ]

[ Warnings: NSFW 18+, explicit words, Oral sex (f! Receiving) p in v sex, slight angst. Happy ending. ]

Mysterious!Law x Afab!/Fem!Reader.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・.・。.

It started on a Wednesday. You didn’t like Wednesdays—too close to Monday to feel like progress, too far from the weekend to be hopeful. But your best friend, Shachi, had begged you to come with his to some sketchy-looking tattoo shop across town, swearing it was “super chill” and that his bandmate worked there.

The place smelled like ink, antiseptic, and leather. The kind of place where the walls had stories and the floor had seen more boots than brooms. The bell above the door jingled as you stepped in, nervously fiddling with the sleeve of your hoodie.

“This is it,” Shachi said, striding in like he owned the place. “Hey, Law!”

You saw him then—leaning against the back counter, long fingers thumbing through his phone. Dark jeans, ripped at the knees, band tee stretched over a lean frame. Tattoos spiraled up his arms like vines—clean, deliberate. The beanie on his head barely contained dark, messy hair, and his eyes—hooded and unreadable—looked up at you for only a second before flicking back to his screen.

Law.

So this was the mysterious guitarist Shachi was always raving about. And now that you saw him, you understood the obsession.

“She sings,” Shachi blurted, jerking a thumb at you like you were some prized show dog. “Name, I mean. Like, for real. You should hear em.”

Your heart leapt into your throat. “Shachi—”

Law didn’t look impressed. In fact, he barely looked at all. “Cool,” he said flatly, his voice low and almost bored. “We don’t need vocals.”

“Well maybe you wouldn’t sound like a dying amp if you did,” Shachi shot back, teasing.

Law snorted but didn’t reply.

You felt like crawling into the nearest trash can and staying there as Shachi dragged you around, forcing you to meet the rest of his bandmates.

—

A Few Days Later…

You didn’t expect to go back.

But you did.

The shop was closed, but the music behind the building drew you in. You found them in the back room—some makeshift rehearsal space with tattered couches, exposed brick, and amps that hummed with life. Law had a guitar in his lap, fingers dancing effortlessly over the strings, lost in his own world. Shachi was on drums, and a couple others you vaguely recognized filled the space with bass and keys.

No one acknowledged you much. Not even Law. Especially not Law.

You weren’t offended. That kind of aloofness seemed to cling to him like smoke. He only spoke when necessary, eyes always half-lidded, always elsewhere. But you noticed how focused he got when he played. How everything else fell away, except the music.

You kept showing up.

You didn’t know why—maybe the music felt like a language you could understand, even if the people didn’t. Maybe it was how good his inked hands looked against the neck board of his guitar.

—

One Night…

The venue had cleared out. It was just a small bar they used for rehearsal gigs, dimly lit and slightly sticky underfoot. The guys had packed up early, off to grab a smoke or a drink or maybe just to argue about tempo somewhere else.

You didn’t think anyone was there. So you wandered up to the mic, immersing yourself in the spotlight of music.

The guitar was still plugged in. You plucked a single chord���hesitant, shaky—and then let your voice carry.

You sang something soft. Something yours. Low, trembling at first, but steady enough to hold. You didn’t know Law had come back in, standing in the shadows near the door, arms crossed, listening.

Your voice curled around the empty space like smoke.

By the time you stopped, you felt both silly and free.

“That was you?” a voice drawled.

You jumped. Your heart did something complicated in your chest when you saw him—eyes fixed on you like he’d never seen you before.

You nodded slowly, embarrassed. “Sorry. I didn’t think anyone—”

“You wrote that?”

Another nod.

Law stepped closer, expression unreadable, but something had shifted. There was a crack in the stoicism. Interest. Curiosity. A flicker of something alive.

“You should sing with us.”

You blinked. “I thought you didn’t need vocals.”

He shrugged. “I changed my mind.”

—

—

It was weird at first.

You and Law became… something. Not friends exactly, not yet. But he didn’t ignore you anymore. He’d glance at you when you walked in. Sometimes he’d nod. Sometimes you’d find coffee waiting at your usual chair in the studio.

He never said it was from him.

You found out small things over time. He hated small talk, hated superficial noise. But he liked rainy mornings. He always played when it rained. You told him you used to hum to thunderstorms as a kid, pretending you were singing with the sky. He didn’t laugh at you for that—just gave the faintest smirk and said “Figures.”

He’d tell you stuff in pieces. His love of medical science. That he almost went into surgery once. That tattooing was its own kind of healing. You confessed you always wanted to sing, but were too scared. That you were more used to hiding than performing.

“You’re not hiding anymore,” he said one night, quietly, when the others were packing up.

It felt like the kindest thing anyone had ever said to you.

Over time that Cold stoic demeanor of his turned room temperature as you both agreed to be friends. Awkward at first, but then casual. He allowed you to sit next to him in the studio, texted you more often. Sending funny cat videos on Instagram he saw to your account after finding out you shared the same humor.

The rehearsals seemed more intimate than usual lately, maybe it was the pressure of your first concert upcoming in the band. Maybe it was something else.

—

—

It was your first real gig. A packed underground venue, lights flickering off sweat-slick walls. You weren’t used to this many eyes on you. Law stood next to you onstage, guitar slung low, tuning with precision. When he looked up, he saw the nerves flickering across your face.

He leaned in, close enough for you to hear under the crowd noise. “Just look at me if you get lost.”

You did.

And somewhere between the first verse and chorus, something shifted. You weren’t just singing anymore—you were living. You saw Law watching you between chords as his hands strummed on autopilot, his eyes darker, focused, almost like he was learning your face like a song, reading the notes on your face, his heartbeat matching the tempo.

The high of performing was still in your chest as you slipped into the backstage changing room. You were barely halfway through unlacing your boots when the door clicked behind you.

It was Law.

Still in his all-black gear, shirt clinging to him from the heat, his forearm flexed as he leaned back against the wall, watching you with the same look he had onstage—hungry, unreadable.

“You looked…” He searched for the word. “Alive.”

You smiled, heart hammering. “I felt like it.”

He stepped closer. Tension thick in the air.

You didn’t stop him when his hand brushed your cheek. When he kissed you—slow, deliberate, like he was afraid he’d ruin it if he went too fast—you kissed him back. Harder than you meant to. Months of slow-burn glances and mutual loneliness burning out at once.

His hands were on your waist, sliding under your shirt, your back against the door now, the room spinning slightly. You moaned softly into his mouth when his thumb skimmed your ribs, teasing toward your bra.

But then—your hands stopped his.

“Wait” you whispered, breathless.

Law blinked, frozen, pulling back just an inch.

“I want…” You swallowed. “Not here. Not like this. I want it to mean something if we—”

His eyes flickered, but he didn’t get angry. He nodded, slow and respectful. “Okay.”

And just like that, he stepped back. Straightened his beanie. Like a gentleman trying very hard not to still be very, very hard.

—

Those next two weeks were rough, you didn’t know how to face Law after what’d happened as your friendship awkwardly fell back to square one. The texts stopped, you had to fetch your own coffee and he refused to look at you during meetups.

It was 2:03 a.m. when you heard the knock.

You shuffled to the door in your sleep shirt, rubbing your eyes awake as you got closer, opening the door to the person you wanted last on your list of seeing at the moment.

Law stood there. Hoodie, jeans, slightly windblown. Guitar case strapped to his back. His eyes were wild, but soft. Restless. Avoiding the real reason why he was there as he reached into his pocket, handing you the folded piece of sheet music.

“You left this at the studio, the others don’t know where you lived” that’s a lie.

“Shachi does, I’m not dumb Law. Why did you really come over?”

He paused for a moment, before sighing. Looking back down at you as he confessed.

“I can’t stop thinking about you,” he said, voice low. “You’re in my head. All the time. Your voice, your smile, that thing you do when you talk too fast and catch yourself halfway—”

You pulled him inside before he could finish.

His mouth was on yours before the door clicked shut.

You barely had time to process the knock before Law was kissing you, backing you into your apartment like he’d been holding it in for months — because he had. His lips were hungry, but his hands stayed steady, gripping your hips like he didn’t trust himself to go further unless you gave him permission.

You didn’t hesitate this time.

You pulled his hoodie off, fingers brushing warm skin and ink. His eyes didn’t leave yours, even as your shirt dropped to the floor. “You sure?” he asked, voice low, hoarse.

“I want you,” you breathed. “All of you.”

Something in him snapped — a restraint he’d been holding onto with white knuckles. He kissed you harder, almost desperate now, and before you knew it, he had you pinned to the couch, your thighs spread open, his fingers pulling your panties down with sharp precision.

“Fuck” he muttered as he looked at you — your pussy glistening, already soaked. “You’ve been thinking about this too, haven’t you?”

You whimpered when he ran two fingers through your folds, circling your clit slowly, teasing. “Please, Law…”

He sank to his knees in front of the couch and buried his face between your thighs. His tongue was all heat and pressure, licking slow and deep, then flicking fast just to hear you cry out. When you bucked your hips, his strong arms held you down, fingers digging into your thighs.

“You taste so fucking good” he groaned against your pussy, voice low and rough. “I could make you cum like this all night.”

Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging when he sucked your clit just right, sending a pulse of heat through your entire body.

But you needed more.

“Law—” you gasped.

He looked up at you, eyes blown wide with lust. He stood, undid his jeans with one hand, and pushed them down just enough to free his dick — long, thick, veiny, already dripping precum. You instinctively reached for it, wrapping your fingers around the base, stroking once, watching him twitch under your touch.

He hissed between his teeth. “Fuck, princess, you keep doing that and I’m not gonna last.”

You guided him between your legs, and he lined himself up with your entrance, pressing the tip of his cock against your wet heat. He didn’t push in yet — he just looked at you. One last check.

“I want this” you said. “I’m ready.”

That’s all it took.

He pushed in slowly, inch by inch, stretching you open, groaning deep in his chest. “Shit… you feel perfect” he breathed. “So fucking tight.”

Your head fell back as he filled you, your walls clenching around him, adjusting to the stretch. When he bottomed out, you both just stayed there for a moment — breathing, shaking, wrapped in each other.

Then he started to move.

Slow, deep thrusts at first, grinding his hips against yours to hit the perfect spot every time. He watched your face, drank in every moan mentally matching it to vocal scales—imagining you as a song, every twitch of your body. He kissed you hard, tongue tangling with yours, all rhythm and heat.

“Say my name,” he growled in your ear.

“Law” you moaned. “Oh—fuck—!”

He snapped his hips harder, driving into you with more force now, fingers digging into your hips to keep you in place. The sound of skin slapping echoed through your apartment, mixed with your gasps, his groans, the slick heat of your bodies.

You were close — he could tell.

“Cum for me” he ordered. “Cum around this dick like you mean it baby.”

And you did. Your pussy clenched around him, orgasm crashing through you like a wave, legs trembling, mouth open in a silent cry.

Law followed seconds later, with a strangled groan, burying himself deep, his cock pulsing as he came inside you, hot and thick.

He collapsed against you, catching himself with one hand, pressing his forehead to yours as both of you tried to breathe.

“Fuck,” he whispered. “I should’ve knocked on your door weeks ago.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・.・。.

↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺

[justmeinadaze]

Secret Underneath Part 2 (Steddie X Plus Size You)

Warnings: Daddy Steddie (Businessman Steve/ Rockstar Eddie) & Plus Size Fem Sub Y/N, SMUT (just pure smut; me working on this may be why I'm so subby right now lol), light smacking, slight spit play( if you squint), spanking, LOTS of dirty talk.

SLIGHT ANGST, like very slight, mentions of insecurities when it comes to the reader and her now knowing who they are. Brief mentions of an ex (that I can use for angst fodder later because I'm me)

More than anything they are feeling each other out and setting up some boundaries.

Word Count: 4835

Part 1

“Y/N, honey, are you alright?”, your friend asks as she lightly touches your shoulder before becoming distracted herself. “Maggie! I swear to God you kids are going to get me to retire early.”

“Promise?”, one of the kids teases.

Blinking, you pull yourself back into the moment, remembering the anonymity everyone requested including you.

“Ok, guys, come on. I think we bothered the people up here enough. There’s a reason they make so much money and it’s because they don’t deal with kids like you.”, you joke as you usher them to follow the guide.

It takes all of your energy not to glance their way again but you can feel their eyes trail after you as you disappear with the class. 

After dropping off the kids on campus and making sure everyone gets home safe, you head back to your apartment. As soon as the door shuts you lean against the wood, sliding down to the floor as you cry. 

You enjoyed being with Mogul and Rockstar the other night but now you know who they were. Were they going to leave now that you did? They wanted their identities to be private but never said for how long. After what happened, you were willing to wait but now… now what happens?

You hadn’t even began to fully process that they were millionaire womanizer Steve Harrington and famous well known party bad boy rockstar Eddie Munson. Insecurities had already begun to seep into your brain and it killed you. 

Your phone vibrated causing you to roll your eyes and glance at the notification that danced across your screen. 

(5:15pm) Mogul/Rockstar has invited you for a video chat!

(5:16pm) CurvyBabyWAttitude declined your invitation for a video chat. 

(5:17pm) Accept the invitation.

(5:17pm) Please.

(5:18pm) Mogul/Rockstar has invited you for a video chat!

“Yes, Mr. Harrington and Mr. Munson, how can I help you?”, you answer in a short, annoyed tone. 

“You can let us see your face for starters. If I wanted to look at the wall I can turn around.”

“Of your penthouse I bet.”

“We’re still in my office. We wanted to reach out earlier but we thought you’d still be on your field trip or at the school.”

“We wanted to give you time to get home so we could talk properly. Are you crying? Why are you crying?”

“Are you fucking kidding me? Look, you don’t have to pander to me, ok? I know now this whole anonymity thing is ruined and you’d rather be with someone more suited to your lifestyle.”

“Define ‘our lifestyle’.”

“For you, Mr. Harrington, I imagine some blond girl with big tits who comes from money and can squeeze her itty-bitty body into the most expensive dress your money can buy. For bad boy Mr. Munson, I see you with more or less the same but she’s cool like Janis Joplin.”

“I do like Janis.”

“So…big tits, money, and blond. Is there a height requirement?”

Your hand covers your mouth as you breathily laugh at their joke.

“No, no height requirement but according to princess here there is a weight limit. I guess because rich men like us are super vain we only care about a woman’s appearance and not her personality.”

“Is that right, honey? Or is the curvy baby with attitude a bit self-conscious?”

“THIS is why we wanted anonymity. We aren’t what you read in the papers, sweetheart. I’d figure the other night would have gone in the category of proving that. If we only cared about what you claim we never would have come down to the hotel.”

After a long exhale, you tilt your phone to allow them to see your face. 

“I think you also forget, honey, we have seen you. Yeah, you were wearing that mask but we knew about your body, your hair, and your tits. We’ve had our hands on them, remember?”

“You just caught us off guard today because… now we regret making you wear that sleep mask thing. Your entire face is so fucking beautiful. I wonder if your real name is equally so.”

Leaning your head on your knees, you take in their demeanors on the other end of your screen. They did still seem to be in his office but they were both sitting on a couch within. Steve was still wearing his sleek suit and Eddie in a black shirt with jeans but their eyes were no longer reflecting surprise as they had earlier that day. Right now, they seemed to be displaying genuine concern. 

“My name is Y/N.”

Both men softly grinned making you do the same. 

“Beautiful… would, um, would you be willing to meet us in a couple of hours at that hotel? We’d like to talk to you some more. Maybe figure some things out when it comes to us three.”

“We’d invite you to our place but we feel like it might make you more comfortable for us to meet somewhere where there’s common ground…so speak.”

“You two live together?”

“Oh good. We can still keep some secrets!”, Eddie chuckles. “Yeah, no point for me to get my own place when I’m on tour a lot and Stevie here travels for work.”

“Ok.”, you nod as you rise to your feet. “I’ll, um, see you both in a couple of hours.”

##################

Nerves float through you belly as you stand outside the hotel door, exhaling as you prepare for what may be on the other side. To your surprise both men are already there, Steve pacing by the window as he scrolls through his phone while Eddie lays on his back on top of the bed. 

As soon as the door closes, they come to attention, pausing as their eyes rake over your body. When you were here last time you had thrown on clothes not caring how you were dressed after your ordeal and today you weren’t expecting to see your two admirers so you were in your jeans and school t-shirt with a messy bun and sneakers. 

This time you wanted to show off with your off-shoulder butterfly sleeve green blouse and black skirt that accentuated your curves. The black heels helped fuel any confidence you were lacking and your hair flowed down around you giving you that extra layer of armor as well as hiding that still prominent bruise you had lingering on your skin. 

“Jesus Christ.”, Eddie breathed before clearing his throat and glancing towards Steve. “You know, seeing her now, Harrington, she doesn’t hit that height requirement we talked about.”

His friend rolled his eyes as you giggled. 

“This is so surreal.”

“What is?”, Steve asked.

“I just…I just read about you the other day. About how you just made a big financial move that made you 400 million dollars. And you…I’ve been listening to your voice for so long. I have your songs on my phone.”

“Yeah? And is that bad?”

“Ah, no, Munson. It’s those insecurities again which by the way I find totally amusing for a girl filled with so much sass.”, the pretty boy grins. “If I may ask, what are the other Daddies like? Why aren’t you like this with them?”

You scoff as you saunter to a nearby chair, place your purse down, and sit crossing your legs. Both men try to control their eyes from scanning along your limbs but Steve in particular struggles to focus on your face as his gaze constantly shifts to your heels.

“A lot of men on there have no idea what they are doing and the men that I have met up with are either trust fund babies or CEOs. They aren’t famous or really worked hard for anything. Personally, I think that’s why they struggle being dominate. They don’t know how to fight or work hard. They barely even know what they want let alone how to take care of me.”

“Goddamn, sweetheart, you are sexy.”, Eddie sighs almost excitedly. “You have no reason to be insecure at all, Y/N. I mean we get it. Like I said, this is part of the reason we wanted the anonymity. We want you to like us for us not our names or status.”

“Is that what happened with your last Baby?”

They glance towards each other again before answering. 

“No.”

“No…”

“No.”, Steve says again with more conviction. “No, that’s not what happened.”

“That’s all I get?”

“You get what we give you.”

Your breathing stutters a bit at the metalhead’s words as your pussy clenches at his casual yet confident tone. 

“Y/N, honey, can you do me a favor and uncross your legs?”  You do as he asks going the extra mile of opening them so they have a good view at your silk black panties underneath. “You have no idea how bad I want to throw those gorgeous high heeled legs over my shoulders and just fucking devour your little pussy till your shaking.”

A small moan escapes your lips but when you try to rub your thighs together for relief Eddie tuts loudly across from you. 

“Ah ah, baby. Keep your legs open till we’re done talking and you!”, he chuckles as he gestures towards his friend. “Stay focused.”

“Yes, Daddy.”

“When it comes to sex, princess, is there anything we should avoid? Any hard no’s or anything like that?”

“Nothing…too rough. I’m not into masochistic stuff like canes and flogs but you can hit me or spank me. You’ll probably be doing that a lot.”

“Oh, don’t worry, baby girl. We can handle the brat.”, Steve grins as he winks, taking off his suit jacket and tie, tossing them on the other chair beside him. 

“What about you two?”

That gives them pause before they smirk and the mogul continues rolling up his sleeves. 

“Would you believe you’re the first woman to ask us that?”, Eddie ask as he shakes his head. “No, pretty girl. As long as you’re vocal and tell us when or if you’re uncomfortable, we’re happy. That being said, do you have a safe word you prefer?”

“I’m alright with ‘red’, Daddy.”

Steve walks to your side and extends his hand out for you to take so he can guide you to the edge of the bed beside Eddie before descending to his knees. The long-haired boy brushes some of your hair back and his ringed fingers lightly trace your bruise.

“How does this feel? Still hurt?”

“Yes, sir, but not as much as before.”

“Fucking asshole putting his hands on our baby girl.”, he growled low as his lips kiss your skin. 

“That’s another thing, Y/N, because apparently we weren’t clear last time. You are ours. You belong to us and in turn we take care of you.”

“Are we still…still…keeping this a secret?”, you inquire trying to focus as Eddie’s kisses trailed to your neck while Steve’s mouth lingered on your thigh. 

“Is that alright? Till we get more comfortable with each other and the dynamic.”

“Y-Yes, Daddy. Please.”

“Please what, baby? What do you want?”, the rockstar breathes in your ear.

“I want Daddy to eat my pussy.”

You watch as Steve’s head disappears into your skirt making you groan when his nose presses against your panty covered core and you feel him inhale. 

“Fuck, she smells so fucking good.” His wide tongue flattens against the fabric and Eddie grins as your mouth falls open. “Jesus, Ed, and she tastes so sweet. Let’s get these off, honey.”

Nodding aggressively, you helped him pull down your panties and he tossed them towards his jacket. He licked a strip between your folds, wrapping his mouth around your clit, and repeating the process as his eyes watched your face. 

“Oh fuck, Daddy.”

Eddie’s hand cups your cheek as he brings your lips to his, open mouth kissing you as his own tongue caresses yours. Your body abruptly jostles as Steve bunches your skirt around your waist and throws your legs over his shoulders before pressing his face into your cunt as his tongue vigorously flicked your bundle of nerves.

Your fingers threaded through his hair as you fell back against the mattress and grinded your hips. His large palms glide up your stomach as the other man lifts off your shirt and throws it to the floor. You moan, gripping the mogul’s wrist as his digits pinch and roll your nipple between them. 

“Oh my God, yes, Daddy! I’m gonna cum!

Your orgasm crashes into you like a wave as Steve shakes his head from side to side helping you ride out your high. Refusing to slow down by any means, the man’s arms circle your hips, holding them down as he continues to run his tongue between you folds as he builds you back up. 

Feeling a warmth beside you, you shift your gaze to see a now naked Eddie on his knees stroking himself by your face.

“Do you want Daddy’s cock, pretty girl?” When you don’t respond, his palm lightly smacks your cheek, his eyes scanning yours for discomfort when they finally meet. “I asked you something.”

“M’sorry. Da-Daddy’s mouth feels sooooo good.”

“Maybe I should have him stop so you can pay attention.”

“NO! No, please. I’ll listen! I’ll listen. I’ll listen.” When he repeated his question, you nodded as your free hand started to reach for him. 

“No, baby. Just keep your hands on Steve. Fun fact, he kind of likes when you pull his hair while he’s making you feel good.”, Eddie grins as his palm pets your head. “Just keep your throat open for me, okay?”

“Okay, Daddy.”

A guttural moan left the rockstars lips when his cock slid through your parted ones. His girth overwhelmed you instantly but you loved the way he tasted as every vein dragged along your tongue. 

“Fuck, sweetheart. That’s it. God damn Steve, her mouth feels amazing.”

As the metalhead began subtly thrusting his hips, you did what he suggested, gripping the other man’s hair tightly in your fingers as you tried not to gag.

“Hey. Hey, hey, hey.”, Eddie panted as he pulled himself back and you collected some air. “It’s ok to gag and drool, baby. We don’t mind it messy, trust me, and the thought of this pretty face choking on my cock just…fuck. Oh, wait. You’re going to cum again aren’t you?”, he says in an almost mocking tone that has your pussy clenching. 

Almost abruptly, Steve climbs up your body and snake one of his hands behind your neck, lifting you just enough for your forehead to lean against his. Pushing his ring and middle finger into your core, the sound of your slick filled the room as he thrust them into you at a brutal pace. 

“Cum again, baby. Come on. Soak Daddy’s fingers.”, he chanted under his breath as one of your arms wrapped around his neck. “I gotchu, Y/N. Daddy’s right here. Cum, baby girl. Keep your eyes open and on me.”

You screamed as the coil snapped, panting as your hair was yanked back.

“Keep your eyes open, little girl!”

His large digits continue to pump into you, slowing their rhythm as you gradually come down from your high with both men murmuring praises as they hovered above you. 

Through heavy lidded eyes you see them smirk at each other as Eddie pats his shoulder as if to say thank you before he maneuvers around on the bed, flipping you onto your stomach, and pushing you up on all fours. 

Steve lays on his back and hastily adjusts you till your in-between his legs. With a hungry gaze, you watch as he unbuckles his belt and pushes down his pants just enough to free his cock, stroking it in front of you as you wait. 

“Go head, Y/N.”, Eddie permits making you smile as you tongue darts out to lick the precum off his tip. “Atta girl. Remember, it’s ok to be messy.”

“Just tap me twice if you need a minute, honey.”

“Ok, Daddy. Oh-Oh fuck.”

While you two were talking, the rockstar had placed himself behind you, collecting your arousal with his length before guiding himself into your entrance. You whimper at his size as your nails claw under Steve’s button up shirt down his abs. 

“Fuck me, baby. I know. I’m sorry. I’m trying—shit—I’m trying to go slow but your pussy is just pulling me in…squeezing Daddy so tight.”

The man underneath you bit his lip as your face scrunched in pleasure. 

“You’re so beautiful, Y/N. Such a good girl taking him so well.” Your hand wrapped around him as your mouth enveloped his cock, taking him as far down as you could. “Fuck, good-good girl.”

Once he was fully sheathed inside of you, Eddie waited, allowing you to get accustomed to him while you focused on his friend. Taking his recommendation, you lowered yourself as far down as you could, gagging around Steve’s massive size, and coming off him quickly leaving trail of spit that lingered on your chin. 

“There you go. God, Y/N, that felt amazing. Do you want Daddy to take control?”

“Please… I trust you.”

Almost too gently, he lifted your hair into a ponytail, caressing your lips with his thumb as they fell open while Eddie began thrusting into you. When his cock found its way into your mouth again, however, he was anything but.

His mushroom tip hit the back of your throat repeatedly as he guided your head lower and lower onto his lap.

“You’re doing so good, honey. Fuck! K-Keep your tongue flat. That’s it, baby. Just like that. Mmm get Daddy nice and wet. Yeah? Is Eddie fucking you nice and deep?”

Tears consistently fell at the euphoria you were feeling as Eddie’s cock hit all the right places inside of you and then some while Steve’s words and actions were making you clench the rockstar to an almost a painful degree. 

“Fuck, man!”, he blissfully shouted as he spanked your behind and slowed his pace as he watched his cock disappear inside you. “She fucking loves sucking your dick. Every time she gags, her cunt wraps tighter around me.”

The pretty boy grins as he pets your head and dries some of your tears. 

“You like sucking my cock, pretty girl?”

“Y-Yes, Daddy, I love it.

“Can Daddy fuck your tight your little throat till you both cum?”

“Yes, Daddy, please!”

Eddie stills long enough for his friend to rise to his knees and slide himself back into your mouth, matching his pace as they both thrust into you. Your orgasm takes you by surprise as you roughly tap on Steve’s body and he immediately pulls back as your upper body collapses on the mattress. The rockstar grunts as reaches over to grab your hair, bringing you flush against his chest as he chases his release. His arms circle around to your tummy and you place your own on top of his as he slams his seed inside of you. 

“Thank you.”, you whisper as you pant against his cheek and in response he tilts his head to kiss your lips. 

“Come here, baby girl.”, Steve coos, his head ticking to the side when you shake yours.

“I don’t want to ruin your suit, Daddy.”

Smiling softly, he takes you in his arms and you can’t help but inhale his scent as you nuzzle your face into his neck. After placing you on the pillows, he tugs his shirt over his head and removes the pants the rest of the way. 

“I don’t care about my clothes, honey. All that matters to me is that you’re comfortable and taken care of. Plus, it’s kind of sexy to me to have your gorgeous, naked, sweat covered body against my suit.”

Positioning himself between your legs, he brings one over his shoulder and lets out a long, pleasure filled sigh as he guides his cock into your somewhat overstimulated and dripping pussy. 

“God…fuck me.”

At this angle, it felt like he was splitting you in half but in the best possible way.

“Mmph, fuck, Daddy. You’re so big.”

“I know, Y/N. I know but you can take it. You’re doing so well already.” Steve’s lips kiss your ankle just below your high heel as he gradually began finding his rhythm. “Keep your eyes on me, baby.”

When you didn’t do what he told you to, you felt him lean over you as he pressed his palms into the mattress to steady himself. 

“Y/N, stop making us repeat ourselves. Now, open your eyes.”

“I-I’m sorry, Daddy. You feel—mmm—so good. I can’t—”

“Yes you can, little girl. Don’t let our kindness fool you. We can be mean when we need to be and have no problem punishing bad girls.”

Your eyes open to meet his dominate ones and just as Eddie had he scans your face for any signs of discomfort. When he found none, he rested his forehead on your own.

“This is the first time we’re really getting to see them.” Steve rolls his waist and you mewl as he roughly hits that sensitive spot inside you. “Right there? Ok, baby.”

His jaw goes slack as he pounds into you, slamming into you g-spot over and over again turning you into a moaning mess that drives him crazy. Pushing back on to his knees, you watch as a glob of spit falls from his mouth before he utilizes his thumb to rub it into your clit.

“FUCK! I’m gonna cum!”

The bed shakes underneath you as skin smacking skin loudly echoes through the room. The coil in your belly snaps for the final time that night and Steve’s lips crash to yours to capture every moan he can. After a few moments, his head dips to your side and his groans fill your ear as he empties himself inside you. 

You wince as the man tries to carefully pull out, murmuring apologies as he kisses your face. 

“Here, sweetheart, drink this.”, Eddie instructs in a gentle tone as he hands you a glass of water that you promptly chug back. “I’m going to go figure out how to turn the rocket ship they a call a tub into a bath so we can get you all clean.”

You giggle at his joke as Steve over exaggeratedly sighs as he presses his face into the pillow beside yours. 

“He’s just trying to impress you by seeming more ‘down to earth’. Our bathrooms at home are more or less the same.”

“I’m sure they are better than mine. It’s a 30 sq ft cube and I shower with the door open so I don’t feel like I’m actually IN the movie Cube.”

His eyes scan you over as you laugh at your circumstance.

“I hope this doesn’t come off as rude so if it is please tell me but…you don’t make enough with the website to get a better apartment?”

“I don’t think it’s rude. Um, no. I don’t deal with too many Daddies. I mean I deal with them but not enough to actually get anything going or keep them around long term. Either they can’t handle me or I can’t tolerate them.”

“Girl who knows what she wants?”

“Girl who’s been through enough and is tired of wasting her time.”

He nods as Eddie saunters back into the bedroom to tell you the bath is ready but as he casually comes around to pick you up, you stop him. 

“It’s ok. You don’t need to…”

As you start to climb out of bed, he places his palm on your chest and pushes you back down.

“I don’t need to what?”

“You don’t need to try and lift me.”

“Good to know.”, he responds sarcastically as he effortlessly lifts you in his arms. “Thankfully I don’t need to try. I already know what I can and can’t do.”

After removing your skirt and heels and placing you in the water, the metalhead climbs in behind you and begins cleaning your body as Steve, now donning boxers, places himself on the edge.

“Am I allowed to ask questions?”

“Of course, sweetheart, but we decide whether or not to answer.”

“I guess that’s fair.”

“Did you have a particular question in mind, honey or…?”

“Just some general things.”, you shrug. “Like I know you make a lot of money but I don’t actually understand what you do.”

“Um, the short answer would be I’m an investor, I guess. My father owned and ran an advertising firm that I took over. Then I utilized those funds to buy and resell properties. That business move you mentioned? I bought a building in Las Vegas and spruced it up. Since it was right on the strip it sold for a high dollar value.”

“Did that go right over your head?”, Eddie asked in jest.

“A bit.”, you smile shyly. 

“Those kids you brought…what do you teach that would bring them to my office?”

“Oh, that wasn’t my class. I was helping my friend with her field trip because another teacher called in sick. She teaches economics; I teach English.”

Both men make a subtle ah noise as they chuckle. 

“Almost all of students know you.”, you smile as you shift your focus to the rockstar. “They say you need to post more on social media.”

“Yeah, I have no idea how any of that works. I just post what they tell me and Gareth runs our band one. I’m an old man, sweetheart.”

“Oh my god. No, you aren’t.”, you laugh as you keen into his chest. 

You don’t see it but both men exchange another look before Eddie wraps his arms over your own and holds you tightly against him as he kisses your shoulder. 

“I’m, um, assuming that doesn’t bother you…that we are older?”

“Most sugar daddies are, honey.”

“That’s not what I asked.”, Steve scolds as he reaches out to lightly grip your chin.

“No, it doesn’t bother me.” Nodding at your answer, he releases you to take hold of your hand and help you to your feet to step onto the bathmat allowing the metalhead to do the same so he can dry you. “Do it bother you?”

“No, baby girl, it doesn’t.”

“Now if any younger guys are out here hitting on you—“ Eddie smiles when your loud belly laugh cuts him off. 

“Trust me, no one is hitting on me. I’m not saying that in like an insecure way. I’m just, usually my sarcasm gets in the way.”

After leading you back into the bedroom, you’re surprised when Steve grabs his shirt and puts it on you, falling to his knees as he closes the buttons.

“This material feels nice.” A sexy smirk paints his face as you watch his fingers move. “Smells like you.”

As soon as he completes his task, his face presses into your stomach as his hands tenderly trail up one of your legs. 

“I smell cigarettes to. Almost like my best friend insists on smoking around me.”

“Oh, sure, because you don’t smoke with me sometimes.”, Eddie teases as you both smile. “I like that you smell like us both though. Let’s people know you belong to someone already.”

Taking a hold of your bicep, he guides you under the covers and you immediately spoon your body into his as he circles his arm around you again.

“Should I…remove my profile from the site?”, you ask sleepily as Steve lays in front of you and brushes some of your hair away from your face.

“We would appreciate that. Tomorrow we can give you our number so we can talk directly on the phone and get some more information so we can send you money when you need it. I would also like to work on getting you a better place to stay. I don’t like you being in a small place where—”

“Steven.”, Eddie chuckles as he interrupts his friend. “Look at her.”

As his eyes glanced over you, he realized you had fallen asleep, your steady breathing and calm face making them swoon.

“Am I asking for too much? I hate the idea of her living somewhere she isn’t comfortable.”, the mogul inquires as he slides further under the covers and caresses your skin while the rockstar props up on his elbow. 

“She doesn’t seem like the kind of woman to do anything that would make her uncomfortable.”, he grins. “But no, I don’t think you’re going overboard.”

“You know how we are. That’s why women always took advantage of us.”

“That’s why we’re taking things a bit slower this time so we don’t have another incident like last time.”

Steve growled under his breath at the thought.

“I don’t think Y/N would be as vindictive as our ex was. Yeah she’s got a mouth but she seems up front and honest. I like that.”

“Me to.”

“I hope we aren’t wrong about this one, Ed.”

############

@aol19 @paradisepoisons @paleidiot @dashingdeb16

@lilaclazer @joannamuns9n @thwippyparker @emotionaldreamer

@aactuaaltraash

[sematarygirls]

stop i’m literally so in love with your acc, it’s gorgeous!!!! missed you sm. need to start writing or creating something again tbh but idk what.

anywaysss had this super cool drummer!rafe idea where they’re all like mid-20s and were suspected of murder (maybe a roadie died or an ex bandmate??)

buttt there you are interning with the local police department (aka nancy drew nerd) and go poking around (woah somehow you end up in rafe’s arms what a coincidence). maybe he did it or maybeee he didn’t, who knows. ur just a silly little inter.. right?? unless ofc this wasn’t the first time you met and you both did it together?

anyways do what you wish with this, feel free to let it rot. ur a genius mastermind either way. ily mwahhh

(here’s some drew pics mini moodboard bc why not)

Partners In Crime — Rafe Cameron.

pairing: drummer!rafe x policeintern!reader

summary: your internship at the kildare county sheriff's department proves extremely useful after ex-bandmate of local rock sensation, morphine animals, is found murdered.

warnings: smut! semi-public sex, unprotected p in v, murder, inaccuracies regarding police work

word count: 3.6k words !

a/n: this request is AMAZING omg!! your mind is literally so incredibly brilliant. i am so incredibly jealous. i just want to scoop it out and study it because your plots are always so genius it's insane. also, i got a little freaky with this request. i don't know where it came from, but i hope yall enjoy. side note, i know nothing about police stations or internships beyond what I've seen on tv, so this is most likely very far from anything that would happen in real life.

✶ . ࣪ ׅ   You cursed quietly, swatting a mosquito away from you as your fingers danced along the collection of files, skimming through the box of evidence labeled "Ryder, Elliot". It was July, and the summer was in full swing. the air was thick and heavy, causing a layer of sticky sweat to cling to every inch of your body. The cramped storage room seemed to be at least 10 degrees hotter than the rest of the police station, and it had the added bonus of recycled air that smelled of dust and mildew.

Your gaze flickered between the door and the police report in your hands, readying yourself to be caught any moment now. Technically, you weren't supposed to be looking at anything in this room. You were simply an intern, and as such, your jobs mostly consisted of clerical work like running the front desk, answering phones, and filling out the occasional police report—typically for some misdemeanor offense that they had granted you competent enough to navigate your way around.

On a normal day, you did not have clearance to be in this little room with all the important documents pertaining to cases ranging anywhere from vandalism to first-degree murder. However, on this particular day, you had been instructed to organize and clean the records room, ensuring that everything was dusted off and placed in alphabetical order.

You knew you weren't really supposed to take a peek into any of these boxes, but when you saw the name Elliot Ryder on one of the boxes, you simply couldn't help yourself. It was the biggest case your town had seen in the last decade.

"Local rock legend Morphine Animal's ex-band-mate found murdered" had been splashed across headlines for weeks, each news site ranging from local to national discussing the case and their theories, but surprisingly much of the case had remained a mystery.

Morphine Animals had been practically untouchable ever since they skyrocketed to fame. It was truly fascinating how quickly they went from small-town rockstar wannabes to household names. They became a national sensation practically overnight, and it all started when Elliot Ryder was fired as the band's drummer and replaced by Rafe Cameron.

You remembered it vividly. Elliot went around telling everybody who would listen how he was cheated out of fame. The other three band members had been his childhood best friends. The band was their passion project and they had vowed to do it all together, but then, one night, they just dropped him out of the blue, and Rafe Cameron took his spot.

People couldn't help but wonder if the band's colorful history had anything to do with the murder. The whole situation would've made more sense if Rafe was the one murdered. It would be open and shut. Elliot killed Rafe to get back at him for taking his spot and stealing the fame that was "rightfully" his, but revenge just doesn't quite sit right with the case being turned around.

Rockstar drummer that has it all kills small-town drunk nobody? It just doesn't fit.

You turn your attention back to the police report in hand. You didn't have much time left before someone inevitably needed a file or came to check on you, so you needed to focus, read it, and put everything back where you found it before that happened.

Case Number 0608

Responding Officer: Sheriff Susan Peterkin

On 06/28/2023 at approximately 2100 hours, I responded to a noise complaint at 2971 Shorecrest Drive.

I knocked on the front door, but there was no answer. I announced myself as the police and knocked once more, but again, received no answer. I looked into the window for signs of life, and saw Elliot Ryder laying prone on the living room floor with a pool of blood around him. I immediately radioed for assistance and kicked down the door. I checked his pulse and discovered that Ryder was deceased. While I waited for assistance, I secured the scene. At approximately 2110 hours, Deputy Victor Shoupe, Officer Danielle Lyonne, and Officer Franklin Hewitt arrived on scene. Officers Hewitt and Lyonne canvased the surrounding homes and took their statements to find out if anyone had seen or heard anything. Their individual statements are enclosed. Deputy Shoupe called for the coroner and cordoned off the area while I began assessing the crime scene in a spiral method. Pictures included document the blood patterns and shattered glass discovered at the scene. No murder weapon was discovered.

I instructed Deputy Shoupe to stay at the scene and await the coroner's arrival while I headed back to the station. At approximately 2330 hours, I left the scene.

Your eyebrows furrowed in concentration as you read over the report. You used the back of your hand to wipe the beads of sweat that had formed on your forehead—created from a mix of the unbearable heat and your growing nervousness as the moments ticked by—stopping them from dripping down your skin.

Your gaze darted to the door once again before returning to the files, pulling out a series of pictures that documented the crime scene.

He was found on his stomach, the hair on the back of his head matted with blood. The cause of death was blunt force trauma, and it was very evident from the crime scene photos.

You turned your attention from the photos documenting his body to the ones showing the state his living room had been left in. There was broken glass from a shattered mirror near the front door coating the carpet, and the living room looked like it had been hit by a tornado. Furniture had been turned over, his belongings strewn about in a disorganized fashion. It seemed like whoever had been there was looking for something.

Something in one of the photos caught your eye. It was small, almost imperceptible, but the flash from the camera reflected off something imbeded into the cream colored carpet just beneath the table that Elliot's body was found beside.

Your brows furrowed as you brought the photo closer to your face, squinting to get a better look.

The sound of footsteps approaching made you jump. You quickly folded the picture and shoved it into your pocket before placing the photos and police report back into the box and hauling it onto the shelf.

"Hey, kid," Deputy Shoupe peeked his head inside, the sound of him chewing his gum seemingly reverberating off the walls. You turned, your face flushed, and your heart practically beating out of your chest. You had managed to get everything in order moments before he opened the door.

"Uh, yes, sir?" You cleared your throat, brushing away a strand of hair that had gotten stuck to your sticky forehead.

"Boss lady needs the Ryder files," he informed you, still smacking his gum. The sound filled your ears, somehow louder than the beating of your own heart.

You nodded, swallowing hard as you turned and grabbed the box, the piece of paper in your pocket feeling like it weighed a ton as you carried the heavy box over to him. "Can I ask why?" You worked up the courage to ask, handing him the files, your palms sweaty as you pulled back.

"Just got done interviewing Rafe Cameron," he told you, propping the box under his arm. Your eyes widened a fraction. Why was Sheriff Peterkin reinterviewing him? Was there new evidence to connect him to the murder? "So, she wants to take another look at the evidence."

"Oh," you simply said, the room seeming to grow hotter. "Whew, god, it's hot," you huffed, fanning yourself. "Are you hot?" You asked, clearly not doing well at playing it cool.

"You alright kid?" He asked, quirking an eyebrow curiously at your odd behavior.

"Yeah, I think I'm just gonna step outside and get some air," you nodded, suddenly feeling very suffocated in the stuffy atmosphere.

"Sure, whatever," he shrugged, clearly not all that interested in you or your actions as he turned on his heels to deliver the box to Peterkin.

You hurried down the long, grey corridor, pushing the backdoor open harshly when you arrived at it. Outside wasn't much cooler, but the small, shaded alleyway provided reprieve from the sun's unrelenting rays. You took a few deep breaths, feeling better now that you were breathing fresh, clean air.

"You look like shit," a voice piped up. Your head whipped to the side, eyes finding the source. Rafe Cameron was leaned up against the wall, a lit cigarette dangling from his lips. He was wearing a white tank top that clung to him like a second skin. the heat was just as unforgiving on him, his muscles glistening and his hair sticking out in all directions, a few strands clinging to his slick forehead.

"Excuse me," you scoffed, crossing your arms over your chest. Truthfully, you knew you probably did look like shit. You were sweating like a pig, your clothes clinging to you uncomfortably, and after hours of running your hands through it and being subject to intense humidity, your hair was undoubtedly frizzy and wild.

Rafe pushed off the wall, taking one last drag before flicking the cigarette onto the ground and crushing it under his boot. His blue eyes locked onto yours, amusement dancing in them as he approached you. "I'm just sayin'," he drawled, his voice a low rumble.

"Yeah, well, you don't look too hot yourself," you rolled your eyes. It was a lie, of course. Somehow, he even made sweating to death in the sweltering July heat look sexy. It was utterly infuriating.

He grinned, amused at your attempt to insult him, but he could see right through you. "You mad at me or somethin'?" His hand reached out and wrapped around your wrist, his grip sending shivers down your spine.

"You just said I looked like shit," you glared at him. The heat was making you irritable, and it didn't help that his stupid fucking earring—that you'd told him twenty goddamn times to take out—had showed up in a crime scene photo.

Rafe's thumb began to trace circles on the inside of your wrist, his touch sending electric jolts through your body. "C'mon, you know I was just teasing you, baby," he murmured, his voice soft and seductive. He knew how to play your body better than he knew how to play his drums.

You stubbornly pulled away from him, ignoring the way your body reacted to his touch. "You're lucky I got saddled with file room duty, asshole" you gritted out, pulling the picture from your back pocket and shoving it into his muscular chest.

Rafe wore a silver stud in his ear, a staple of his rockstar persona, and that little glimmer of reflected flash in that crime scene photo was that stud, which had fallen out during the murder.

Thankfully, it hadn't been logged into evidence and had been completely overlooked by the bumbling small town crime scene techs, so you only had to take the photo to keep that little piece of incriminating evidence from ever being discovered.

Rafe glanced down at the photo, his expression unchanging as he took it in. He looked back up at you, his eyes narrowing slightly. "You worried about me, babe?" He asked, his voice laced with mockery, but there was a harder edge to it that betrayed his unperturbed demeanor.

"No," you shot back, your brows furrowing in frustration. God, the heat was making you bitchy. "I'm worried about myself. I mean, I covered up your little fuck up perfectly. The last thing I need is for you and your lame ass jewlery to fuck me over."

Rafe's hand snaked out and wrapped around your throat, his grip tight but not painful. He backed you up against the brick wall, his eyes boring into yours. "You think I can't take care of my own shit?" He asked, his voice a low growl. His patience was clearly wearing thinner and thinner by the second. He was already agitated at being ripped away from band practice to do this little song and dance with the police. The last thing he needed was you bitching at him and challenging his capabilites.

"If you could take care of your own shit, you wouldn't have called me in the middle of the night panicking because you fucking killed someone," you retorted, not backing down. You weren't afraid of him in the slightest. You knew what he was capable of, but it didn't scare you. In fact, there was a twisted part of you that liked knowing about his violent side.

Rafe Cameron had been the one to kill Elliot Ryder in cold blood, and he'd called you up moments after because he knew your experience as a police intern would come in handy. You had rushed over and helped him stage the whole thing as a burglary gone wrong. Unfortunately, Rafe hadn't realized his little wardrobe malfunction until it was too late to go back and retrieve it.

His face darkened, his hand tightening around your throat. "I had it handled," he hissed. "Until you showed up and decided to play detective." His other hand reached down, gripping your hip possessively. "You're supposed to be on my side, not throwing my mistakes in my face."

"Then stop making dumb fucking mistakes," you spat, your jaw clenching in annoyance. You could feel your panties growing wetter by the second, which only fueled your frustration toward him. You hated how he could still make you want him even when he was being a complete asshole.

Rafe's face twisted with anger, but beneath it, you saw a flicker of something else—desire. He leaned in close, his breath hot against your lips. "You know, I should just shut you up for good," he muttered, his grip on your throat unyielding.

"Yeah?" You asked, your voice almost taunting. "You gonna kill me, Rafe?" You looked him in the eye, not backing down. "Who's gonna clean up your messes then, huh?"

His expression turned grim, and for a monent, you thought he might actually do it. But, then, without warning, he crushed his mouth to yours in a rough, bruising kiss. His hands tightened further on your hip, pressing against your body and pinning you in place.

He bit down hard on your lip, drawing blood. His tongue darted out, lapping up the blood and soothing the wound as his thumb rubbed over your pulse point, feeling the way your heartbeat quickened with desire. His mouth tasted of nicotine, stale beer, a slight hint of mint, and then the metallic taste of your blood on his tongue. If it were anyone else, you would've recoiled in disgust, but something about him was intoxicating.

He was so close you could feel his bulge pressing into you, and it only made you want him more. You didn't care that you were pressed against a wall in the back alley behind the police precinct, in fact, something about it, the potential thrill of getting caught, turned you on more.

Rafe's hands moved to grip your ass under your skirt, roughly palming the fatty flesh with his rough hands. He broke the kiss, his lips moving to your neck, where he bit down hard enough to leave a mark. "You drive me fucking crazy," he growled.

"Yeah, well you're fucking insufferable," you said breathlessly, tilting your head to the side and threading your fingers into his hair as he continued his assault on your neck.

He grunted in response, his hands squeezing your backside painfully before he pulled away to fumble with his belt, the buckle clanking loudly in the otherwise quiet alley.

As he fiddled with his belt, you took your opportunity to latch your lips onto his neck, the salty taste of his skin mixed with the thin layer of sweat coating him danced on your tongue as you sucked and nipped at the areas you knew would drive him wild.

Rafe's breathing hitched as you marked him, his body stiffening. He finally got his belt undone and his pants unbuttoned, shoving them down just enough to free his hard length.

He gripped your thighs, hoisting you up and pressing you hard against the wall as your legs wrapped around his waist. "Think you need to learn your place," he said darkly, pulling your panties to the side.

With one swift movement, he thrust deep inside you, filling you completely. He held you pinned against the wall, his hips rolling into yours in deep, punishing thrusts. "You're supposed to worship the ground I walk on," he muttered, his voice ragged.

You gasped, your fingers digging into his shoulders as he began to move, his powerful hips snapping back and forth as he pounded into you. His blue eyes, darkened with lust, locked onto yours, watching your face intently.

"Answer me," he demanded, his voice low and menacing. He slowed his pace, his hips rolling leisurely, his thick length stretching you wide. He knew his slow pace was like torture to you. "Tell me you worship me, baby."

"Fuck," you moaned, your face scrunching in a mix of pain and pleasure as the brick wall dug uncomfortably into your back. "I worship you, Rafe."

A smug grin spread across his face at your words, his pace quickening as he continued to slam into you, his hips rolling in that way that always hit that spot inside you, making you practically see stars. "Good girl," he praised, his lips finding yours again.

Your arms snaked around his neck, fingers curling into his hair and tugging slightly as his mouth swallowed your little whimpers and moans.

He released your mouth, his head tilting down to watch where you were joined. He let out a low groan, his body tensing as he watched himself disappear inside of you. "Look at you taking me so well," he gritted out, his pace quickening.

You gasped when you felt his thumb begin rubbing tight circles on your clit, drawing you closer and closer to the edge. "Such a dirty fuckin' girl," he growled. "Letting me fuck you in an alleyway, behind a police station no less." His lewd words only served to heighten your arousal.

His other hand reached up to wrap around your throat, applying just enough pressure to make you dizzy as he continued to pound into you. "I'm going to fill this pretty little cunt with my cum," he snarled, his voice echoing off the brick walls.

His words paired with his grip on your throat and the way he was pounding into you sent you over the edge, your eyes rolling back as you moaned his name.

His hand on your neck tightened possessively as you came apart for him, his own release following shortly after as he felt your walls squeeze down on him, milking his cock. He buried his face against your neck, his breathing hot and ragged against your skin. "That's my girl."

You panted, your head falling back against the brick as you caught your breath, your mind reeling as the weight of what you'd just done crashed over you. It was reckless and stupid to have let that happen, especially behind the police station you worked at. If anyone saw you, it could raise some serious red flags.

Rafe slowly lowered you back to the ground, pressing one last kiss to your swollen lips before tucking himself back into his underwear and pulling his jeans up, refastening his belt. He leaned against the wall beside you, lighting a cigarette as he looked you over with a lazy smirk. "Try not to look so guilty."

"Don't be an asshole," you shot him a sharp look, fixing your skirt and blouse. Now, you had to go back to work and act as if you didn't have a murderer's cum leaking out of you.

Rafe took a long drag of his cigarette, blowing the smoke out in a slow stream. He watched you intently, his eyes glinting with amusement as he observed you straighten your hair and adjust your collar, trying to regain some semblance of professionalism. "I'll pick you up after your shift. We've got a few more things to discuss."

"You can't pick me up here," you said, crossing your arms over your chest.

Rafe raised an eyebrow, pushing off from the wall and taking a few slow steps closer to you. "And why not?" he asked, his voice low and dangerous. He knew very well why not, but he wanted to hear you say it.

"Don't play dumb, Rafe," you rolled your eyes. He could be so very infuriating when he wanted to be.

"Say it," he insisted, his voice firm. He took another step closer, towering over you. "Tell me why I can't pick you up here." His hand reached up, his fingers brushing against your cheek in a deceptively gentle touch.

You huffed frustratedly, narrowing your eyes at his insistence. "Because you killed Elliot Ryder, and I'm your fucking accomplice," you relented.

Rafe's hand tightened, gripping your cheeks firmly, his touch bordering on painful as he leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear. "Shhh," he whispered, his voice dark and threatening. "You shouldn't go around saying things like that, baby."

You glared up at him, your annoyance evident in your gaze. Everything always had to be a game with him, and sometimes it utterly maddened you.

Rafe's lips curled into a smirk as he pulled back, his hand falling away from your face. "I'll pick you up around the corner," he said, as if the matter was settled. He took another drag of his cigarette before tossing it to the ground and heading down the alleyway to his car.

You watched him leave, your gaze burning holes into his back for a moment as he retreated before you shook your annoyance away, pulling the back door to the station open and heading back inside.

[darlingdesire]

hiya love! i have a bobby request for you, if you don't mind

reader is inhaler's photographer and it's super obvious she has a massive crush on bobby. the entire crew (including him lmao dickhead) tease her for it.

one night at a bar this really hot cool rockstar girlfriend kinda girl hits on bobby and reader sees it and gets jealous. bobby makes a joke and reader gets upset thinking he's making fun of her because the other girl was obvi way cooler than her.

cue a soft little moment where he comforts her, maybe a kiss? 🥺💗

When It Breaks

(Bobby Skeetz x female!reader)

Warnings: none!!

Genre: fluff, angst (omggggg)

Word count: 6.9k wtf

Des Talks!!: okay woah. My first ever Bobby fic and I think I have outdone myself. This is one of my favourites so far and i’ve kind of ended it in a way where there could be a part 2 to this. Thank you so much for requesting this as well anon!! It was such an amazing idea and I’m so glad I get to bring it to life WOOOOOOO!!!!! I really hope this is kind of what you were hoping for 💝 (I may have gotten a little carried away oops ) also get your requests and ideas in whilst its hot 🫶

"You comin' out tonight, right?"

She turned her head at the sound of his voice, her gaze moving from the camera which she was packing away; the camera which had loads of photos of him and the band—85% of which were professional which she would have to edit later and post, and the 15% were random moments taken of him. She saw him in a different kind of light when she had the camera up to her face; she could capture him in a frozen photo and store it forever. Not the man who played bass on stage for hundreds of people, but the boy who who had managed to steal her heart and lock away. Much like a photo, captured forever.

Bobby Skeetz had no idea—well, he did... her liking to him was painfully obvious to everyone, one slip-up a few months ago for a lifetime of teasing.

"You guys going out then?" She inquired, a sweet smile appearing on her face; the once concentrated look she had as she packed her cameras away in silence was no longer there.

Inhaler had just finished playing a show. It was grand; the crowd was one of the best they have had so far, and she could tell that the guys were still at the peak of their high; adrenaline and excitement all around. She was there to see it all, she saw the intimate crowds, the boring crowds, the loud crowds; she was there to see the crowds grow bigger and bigger, her joy only expanding each time she saw the size of the venues. She had been the band's photographer for a few years now, she could pretty much say these years have been the best of her life—she could only imagine how Bobby was feeling.

He leaned against the edge of the table as she started to pack her camera away into her bag, looking down at the camera in her hand, then back up at her, her soft features bringing another sweet, boyish smile onto his face. In all honesty, he wasn't sure if he was smiling because he was so amused by her or what. Probably both.

"Yeah," he answered, his Irish accent thick in his words. "I don't know about you, but I think we deserve a few drinks after that."

She looked back down at what she doing, feeling a fluttering of nerves rush up her body at the attention—she couldn't help it, she felt nervous everytime he would look at her, she wanted so desperately to know what he was thinking when he looked at her. She zipped the protective case up, sealing the camera and all the memories away for later; "It was a killer crowd, wasn't it," She muttered out, her words soft but laced with such pride, "I dunno, Bobby—I went out last night."

She couldn't help but feel satisfaction knowing he had asked her himself to join them at the pub tonight—okay, it wasn't abnormal for him to seek her out after a show and ask, most of the time it was brought up when they were in the group and she would be bugged and pestered by the guys until she had to say yes. But she enjoyed when he asked her; she wouldn't tell anyone, but she would pretend to seem tired or decline just so he could keep asking her with a pleading look on his face.

"And you don't want to go out again?" His tone was playful, trying his best to tempt her to go. He didn't know why, but it was the best part about going out after a show - he knew she always came. He could ask, and she would say yes, but it was so much sweeter to tempt her into going. "I'll buy you a drink—one of those gross fruity spritz you like or whatever that shit is."

She gave him a sarcastic pointed look at his dig on her choice of alcohol, earning a smirky grin from him. She watched the way the smile lit up his face, how it reached his eyes and caused them to close a little. Oh, how she wished she didn't pack her camera away so she could take a photo of it. She wouldn't share it with the world, no, she would keep it hidden away in her digital memory bank. Instead, she took a mental image of the sight of him leaned against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest, with his hair messy and falling over his face.

Ok, stop looking at him like a creep.

She stood up straighter, turning her body towards him now with her bag of equipment in her hand; he waited for an answer, his brows raised slightly in open hope that her answer would be yes.

"One drink," She finally complied, raising her hand with a pointed finger to set her words in stone, "and it's a pornstar martini I've been liking at the moment, thank you very much."

That boyish smirk turned into a full blown grin at her compliance, giving a soft, pleased 'tsk' noise as he stood up a little straighter, pushing himself off of the doorframe and crossing his arms over his chest. He could have just let her come like she always did, but it was so much better to push her into wanting to go. Plus, it was just another excuse to talk to her, be closer.

"A pornstar martini? Really? Didn't know you liked pornstars," He said with a small chuckle, his tone clearly teasing.

She rolled her eyes at him, walking towards the open door where he stood, "Yeah—love when I have a good pornstar," she played along with it, deadpanning him as she passed by him and stepped out into the hallway; her cheeks flushing red at the conversation, and she willed herself to calm down.

He watched her walk past him, his eyes following only after, a humorous and amused smile on his face at her comeback. "Thought it was only bass-players you loved," He followed, a few steps behind, his gaze falling onto the top of her head now, watching her from behind. He was taller, and the fact he was tall was quite obvious, his long legs easily catching up to her short ones.

He was glad her back was facing him now because he couldn't stop the small, amused chuckle from falling out of his mouth at her now-red cheeks.

She felt dread fill her body when she heard his comeback, her mouth went try and it felt like she had cotton in it. She swallowed nervously. He sometimes teased her about the crush she had on him; she didn't know if she preferred it if he was silent about it and never regarding her feelings for him, or if she preferred it if he was openly able to tease her about it. Either way, it felt as though he was tossing her feelings aside.

She decided to stay quiet.

She knew he was following behind her, and she couldn't help but feel as though she had a hit on her. God, please don't trip, don't you dare trip… She repeated in her mind as she walked, she hated and loved the pressure of his attention being on her; analysing her and perceiving her.

He knew she was nervous, and he could almost hear her thoughts spinning around in her head now, trying to process the situation. He felt a tad amused by the whole thing—how after a few years, she still got all awkward around him. Cute.

His gaze drifted to the way she was walking in front of him, clearly trying her hardest to walk confidently and he knew, one wrong step and she was going to trip. The thought brought a small smirk onto his face as he watched her every step, and then, that said wrong step happened.

"Oh—Fuck," She blurted out when the ugly-looking carpet stopped her shoe from letting her walk properly; the stupid kind of carpet that caused you to trip up because of the rough material. Luckily she had caught herself, and scowled down at the floor; wanting to do nothing more than stomp her foot down onto it a few times for tripping her up in front of Bobby.

She had a knack for tripping and bumping into things. It wasn't new, wasn't something Bobby had never seen before; it was another thing he teased her about. She knew it was light-hearted and that he would never shame her for being so clumsy sometimes, but she just wished she didn't look so silly sometimes.

"You're so graceful," He teased, still stood a few steps behind. There was a playful tone to the remark, along with a light chuckle at the failed attempt to stay dignified. It was clear that this was a regular occurrence as she had tripped numerous times before his eyes.

His gaze was fixated on her, watching her as she scolded the carpet, like it was the carpet's fault that she tripped when it was actually hers.

"Shut up. It was the carpets fault," She turned her head to look at him, an uncontrollable smile lifted her lips up at the humour of it. He sent her a cheeky look and finally caught up with her, using the opportunity of her stopping to finally walk beside her. They continued to walk down the hall together, and she kept on shrugging the bag strap up onto her shoulder every time it started slipping down. After the 3rd time, she felt a gentle tug on the strap and she turned her head to see that Bobby was lifting the bag off her to take.

"Here," he spoke, taking the strap from her as they walked. "I'll take it," he added as the strap was now in his hand, a warm smile taking over his face. He knew she struggled with the strap slipping off her shoulders, but he knew she would have kept on adjusting the strap until it was perfect, and even then, it would probably slip again.

He was being chivalrous—more than normal--and it was more for the fact that he wanted to be closer to her.

She pursed her lips together in a way to force the bashful grin away at his helpfulness, "Thanks."

They left the venue through the back and made their way to her tour bus; the one she had made her home for the past two years. He was in a separate one with all the other boys. Their door was always open for her, and she found herself in their bus more than she was in hers. Their dynamics were perfect; she considered Inhaler her close friends more than she was their photographer. After all, they were all eachother had out on the road.

Bobby set her equipment down on her bunk, not missing the chance to send her a look at the way she left her bed messy. She had rolled her eyes at him, saying; "I'd like to see your bed then, Skeetz," her words seeming more innocent in her head than how they sounded when she said them out loud.

"Yeah, you'd like to see that, wouldn't ya'," He muttered with a smirk; not missing a chance to tease her again.

Her innocent words weren't innocent at all. His mind —and he is almost certain hers (but she would never admit it)—immediately went to somewhere else at the words, the thought of his own messy, unmade bed crossing his mind for a spilt second. "and, by the way, my bed is actually made," he responded quickly with a raise of his brows, his gaze flickering to her unmade bed for a moment before turning back to her; he was telling the truth, his bed was made. Neatly. He was waking up in a good mood these past few months—some could say he was waking up on the right side of the bed.

A newfound optimistic feeling had found him, and he loved it; he was excited when he got up in the mornings (ever since he found out his little photographer fancied him, but he wasn't going to admit that)

She gave him a look as she closed the curtain, separating the two of them from the sight of her messy bed, "yeah, yeah," she muttered and turned on her heel away from him, leading them out of the bunk area and back into the main area toward the open door.

Jack, the social media guy who had joined the tour a while ago stepped into the bus; his eyes lighting up at the sight of her. He said a quick hello, his smile sweet as he placed a warm hand on her shoulder as he walked by the two of them. She had become friends with Jack, he was a good guy and the band liked him. (but she never caught on to the looks Bobby gave Jack everytime he would see her with him.)

His gaze immediately narrowed as he watched Jack place a hand on her shoulder; the sight didn't leave him with a good feeling. He could've sworn his eyes burned into the back of Jack's head as he walked right by them and out of the bus.

A strange, bitter feeling swirled around inside his chest and then his mind immediately went to an unreasonable place—he wasn't exactly sure why he was always so territorial, especially now.

He followed her out of the bus, not paying any mind to extend the invitation out to Jack. He secretly wanted her to himself tonight, as friends, of course....

They clambered into the car with the rest of the waiting guys—who had just finished meeting fans out back and taking pictures with them—they were still in the clothes they were wearing on stage, too eager and excited to get to the pub with everyone for a round of drinks.

Bobby sat next to her, of course. The two of them were in the very back of the 7-seater car as the rest of the guys were in the middle with the 3 seats.

The car was immediately filled with conversation, and they started heading toward the pub that was suggested by a local fan.

She had no trouble involving herself into their conversation, it was rather easy actually since she felt more than comfortable around them.

Bobby sat in silence for most of the ride to the pub, only joining in on the conversation now and then. His mind was somewhere else, mostly, and a couple times, his gaze was on her, just watching her. Watching the way she interacted with the others, listening to every single word that came out of her mouth.

He drew on the foggy window, looking over at her once he had finished the little drawing. A smirk stretched out on his face as he pointed it out to her, "It's you," he said with a nod, proud of his little drawing.

She looked at his drawings in the window, her heart almost exploding out of her chest at the fact he made a little stick figure of her in the window.

"Oh wow," She grinned uncontrollably, a little act seemed so big in her mind and she kept repeating how it was probably nothing and that she was just thinking too much into it, "You captured me perfectly."

His smirk grew into a full blown, amused smile as she gawked over his little drawing in the window. She was so easy to read.

He looked back at the window, his attention now diverted on creating another stick figure next to the one of her, "I know I did, I'm good like that," he responded jokingly, a small chuckle leaving his mouth.

They finally reached the pub and they all started clambering out of the big car; she found it amusing watching four grown men try and climb out the car whilst trying to be graceful and not bang their heads against the roof. She made sure to get a photo of Bobby with his window drawings; he had posed for it with a his thumb up and big goofy smile as he carefully leaned his head next to the window, not wanting to rub his hair against the condensation and ruin his drawings.

They made their way into the dimly-lit pub and found an available curved booth to sit at with their drinks. Josh was sat next to her, and they browsed the drinks menu together. It was more like a bar they were at, but whatever it was it was nice and underground; relatively busy too.

Elijah was on her other side, and Bobby was sitting next to him. Ryan had gone straight to use the bathroom, as he had been complaining most of the drive about it.

The pub was lively, filled to the brim with people, but the music was at the right decibel to allow a normal conversation, and that's exactly what the group was doing.

Bobby leaned back against the booth, arms draped along the back of it, listening to the conversations going on around him. His gaze eventually flickered over to her. He could hear her laughing with Josh as the two of them picked out drinks. He felt a small tug pull at his chest, but he ignored it.

Just then, Ryan arrived back at the table, taking his seat, "I took longer in the bathroom so I wouldn't have to wait for drinks to get here," He joked, rolling his eyes as he sat down next to Josh.

"You sure that was the reason?" Bobby teased, smirking at his words and earning a mock laugh from Josh who then reached over the table at him and whilst pretending to claim he didn't wash his hands; causing Bobby to lean back and let out a groan in disgust.

"Ya' filthy, Ryan," He told him and got up out of the booth, looking over at everyone; his eyes landing right on hers, "you're coming with me. Promised I'd get you a drink, didn't I."

She was in a conversation with Elijah—a conversation about who knows what—she had completely lost her train of thought as soon as she noticed him getting up. She looked over at him, locking gazes as he gestured over to her.

A small feeling of nervousness filled her chest as she knew what was coming, and she tried her best to push it away. It was just a drink.

"Oh, yeah," She spoke, smiling at Bobby before turning to Elijah, "back in a sec."

She had to go past Elijah to get out, lucky that there was a decent gap between the table and the booth seats as she carefully stepped out of it.

"You all want a Guinness, yes?" She turned her head to look at the guys, earning some yes' and grateful nods in response.

Bobby waited for her to make the move to the bar, and the two of them went over together; waiting patiently to be served. She took the time to scan the pub/bar/whatever it was, taking in the comfortable scenery. It was very cool. The place had exposed brick walls and had old antiques littered around on display—a nice mix of old and new.

A bartender came up to the two of them not long after and Bobby took the lead in ordering drinks for everyone. Her eyes landed on a small group of women by a table, they were dressed beautifully—one girl in particular caught her eye though, and it seemed as though hers had caught Bobby. She was looking over at him with an interested gaze—a curious one, one that had y/n turning around toward the bar where their drinks were being made. Her back now toward the group so she wouldn't have to see the look that one girl was giving him.

She turned her head to look up at Bobby, seeing how he didn't even pay any mind to the girls who were ogling him. He was simply watching the bartender, tapping his fingers against the wooden bar mindlessly. He looked down at her when he felt her gaze in him, and he sent her a small, instinctive smile before looking back at the bartender.

She suddenly felt like a deflated balloon; insecurity washing over her and diminishing her high.

She was used to girls checking Bobby out, and she had no right to feel insecure or jealous. She was just like all the other girls who had a silly little crush on him. It wouldn't lead anywhere. 

He would notice her looking at him and not pay any mind to it; maybe he was only teasing her about it in order to push it away, because he had to so it wouldn't be weird between them.

"You good?" She heard him ask, she had been staring down at the wooden bar for a few seconds with a distant look; and he had noticed.

She put on a smile and lifted her head to reach his eyes, "Yeah, m' grand," she told him cheerily; though the feeling in her mind said otherwise, hopefully he wouldn't notice that and see through her lies.

"You should try a different drink one day; a Guiness must get boring after a while," She said, trying to alter the conversation.

He chuckled in response at her comment, a small smirk forming on his face now, "Guiness never gets boring, love," he replied, his gaze flickering over down to her.

He could sense a change in her mood, noticing how lost in thought she had been.

The drinks were finally made and they made their way to take them back to the booth where the guys were waiting. She couldn't help but take a quick peek at the group of girls to see that that one girl was still watching Bobby.

She swallowed hard, trying to push down the feelings as she and Bobby got to the booth. A few more people from the crew had joined the booth and were chatting away with everyone. Jack was there. He had patted the open space next to him and budged over a little bit, there was only space left for and she put the drinks down on the table before sittinf down next to him. Bobby watched as he found himself next to Ryan, his eyes lingering on Jack and y/n in front of him.

A bitter feeling settled in his chest he watched her sit next to Jack. He didn't know why, but it always bothered him when she talked to him, or sat next to him, or just spent time with him.

He took the last empty seat next to Ryan, trying to distract himself from his thoughts. The group went on with their conversations, but he found himself tuning out. His eyes always found their way back to her. His gaze lingered on her for a while before she looked up, meeting it. He quickly averted his eyes, focusing on the glass in his hand instead.

They kept sharing looks, their eyes catching one another every now and then as they listened to people talk, or when one of them was talking and looked at the other—as if they were speaking to just eachother. After the drinks were all finished, Ryan went to go get another round for everyone and forced Bobby to go with him for an extra pair of hands.

Y/n was content in her conversation with Josh and Elijah, talking about stuff they're going to do with their day off tomorrow. They were going to explore the city they were in, and she was going to join them and take photos. She was always welcome to join the band on their little outings, they used the fact that she needed to get content as an excuse to get her to spend time with them. It was cute.

After a while of feeling Bobby's absence, she turned her head to the bar where him and Ryan were still by. Except, Ryan was on his way back with a handful of drinks without Bobby. She glanced over Ryan's shoulder to see where Bobby was; he was still there, but he was with somebody else. The girl from the group.

She had managed to get her way over to Bobby and actually strike conversation with him. They seemed to be hitting it off well too, the girl was stood close to him with a flirty smile. Bobby was more than happy to talk to her.

Y/n couldn't help but trace her eyes over the girl; taking in the way she held herself, so confident and alluring. The girl was dressed in red and black and had a charm about her.

She sunk in her seat and looked away from them; feeling all sorts of ways. Insecure, jealous. All these feelings that she—again—had no right to feel. She was silly to compare herself to the girl, but she still couldn't stop it from happening.

She raised her glass to her lips, taking a sip of her pornstar martini—suddenly wishing she had something stronger.

"You're not very subtle with your staring," Ryan told her in a quieter voice than normal, he was relaxed back into his seat with his arms crossed lazily over his chest and a knowing look on his face.

She looked at him with wide eyes at his straight-forwardness, and glanced around at the other people in the seats to make sure they didn't hear Ryan.

"I was looking at the bottles. God, forbid a girl wants to look at the products," She told him, motioning her head to the bottles of alcohol on display behind the bar, clearly lying—which he could see through.

She was so obvious with her staring, her jealousy, her pining. It was written all over her face, and Ryan could see it from a mile away.

He rolled his eyes at her failed attempt at an excuse, sighing as he leaned closer to her, "No, you were staring at Bobby."

She gave him a blank look, rolling up one of the napkins into a tiny ball and threw it at him as a lame attempt to get him to shut up. She knew her cheeks were flushing red, she could feel the heat and the shy-ness flooding through her.

"I hope you choke on your chips," She said to him, glancing down at his bowl of hot chips.

He chuckled in response, swatting the napkin out of the way, "yeah, yeah, yeah."

He knew he had gotten to her now, and there was no turning back for him. It was too entertaining to tease her, and knowing how she felt about Bobby made it even more amusing to poke at her.

He raised an eyebrow at her, a sly smirk on his face, "Why don't you go over there and tell that girl to back off?"

Y/n's face fell, deadpanning him again with a blank expression, "Oh, yeah," She nodded slowly, musing his stupid suggestion, "No."

He grinned, clearly enjoying himself,  "Why not? You'd rather sit here and mope in jealousy?"

She scowled at him and leaned forward in her seat, finally reacting quick to shut his false (clearly right) assumptions down, "I'm not jealous—" she began to fire out.

"What is she jealous of?" Bobby's voice suddenly cut her off, he had somehow weaselled his way over without her noticing and set the rest of the drinks down on the table; glancing between Ryan and Y/n for an answer.

"Nothing," She quickly said, sinking back into her seat and giving Ryan a warning look as Bobby sat down next to him.

Ryan smirked, he could see it right through her, and he knew that he couldn't keep his mouth shut in this situation; he had the right reasons, (he was sick and tired of watching y/n pine over Bobby without doing anything about it—right reasons, wrong method of execution)

"She's jealous of the girl you were talking to at the bar," he bluntly informed Bobby, his gaze drifting to Y/n to find her shooting daggers at him. Her cheeks were even more red now.

Bobby's brows raised at the information, and he looked at her reddening face with a growing smirk; and she prepared herself for his response. She wanted to smack Ryan across the head—she was completely over the teasing. It was fun and fine at first, but after a while it just started hurting. Her feelings were being laughed at and mocked, and if he didn't like the fact that she fancied him then he could just tell her instead of teasing her about it.

"You know you're the only girl for me, love. No need for jealousy," He said to y/n with a smirk—teasing her, yet again...

Ryan rolled his eyes at the interaction, feeling amused by the whole thing. He was tempted to smack him and her upside the head for being so unbelievably stupid for not noticing the obvious fact that Bobby just couldn't get the hint—the hint to do something about it. Ryan wasn't dumb, he could sense the feelings Bobby had for y/n. He had just hoped that by now, the blonde-headed idiot would swallow his fears down and ask the damn girl out.

Y/n huffed, feeling flustered at the words and his teasing, "Don't call me love," She spoke to him, her tone annoyed yet light in mockery as she rose from her seat.

The two guys watched as she snatched her small bag off the table in haste and started walking away from everyone, toward the exit.

"Nice going, idiot," Ryan was the first to say something, looking at his friend with a roll of his eyes.

"What?! You're the idiot, idiot," Bobby exclaimed, completely baffled at the response. Ryan was the one who initiated the entire thing.

"No—You're the idiot," Ryan scoffed, shaking his head. "She's a complete goner for you, and you're too much of a pussy to do anything about it," He angled his body toward his friend, speaking lowly so that the other guys at the table wouldn't hear, "You either tell her you're not interested—which you are, I can tell—and drop the whole thing, or you tell her you want her as much as she wants you," Ryan explained, holding his finger up and pointing it at him to assert his point.

He saw the moment Bobby's face changed from confusion to a more softer one. His eyes were casted down onto the table, clearly thinking about the whole situation in his head. He felt awful.

He was stunned into silence for a few moments as he thought on Ryan's words.

He stared at the table, his mind deep in thought, almost to the point where he forgot that people were still around them. He didn't want to face any facts. He knew he had feelings for her, he knew that—but why was Ryan making it sound easier than it really was.

Bobby shook his head slowly, lifting his gaze back up to Ryan; words tumbling out of him, "It's not that simple, mate," he protested, "Have you thought about what would happen if things ended badly? Don't forget she's our photographer."

Ryan scoffed, his disbelief at the statement growing. "Mate, she's also the one person that can put up with your stupid arse," he reminded him, his tone now firm and annoyed, as he leaned forward in his seat, "You're telling me that you'd rather keep all the stupid feelings bottled away in that thick skull of yours, not make a move, and then miss the opportunity to have her?"

Bobby side-eyed Ryan for the insult, and then let out a deep sigh; saying nothing as he straightened up in his seat and looked toward the exit. Maybe he should man up and go out there—but he felt like such a fool. What would she even say? He used humour to help in situations, and so of course he did the same for this one. Maybe he dug himself too deep. All the months worth of making fun of her for her crush on him were coming back to bite him in the arse.

"Okay," He muttered quietly to himself more than to Ryan, shifting a little as he climbed out of the booth and began to head toward to exit.

He paid no attention to the girl from the bar as he walked by her table—even so, she didn't even make a move on him whilst they were talking. It was friendly chatting, and so when he came back to the table to find out y/n was jealous—you could say he was over the moon and handled it in a shitty way.

Meanwhile, y/n had found herself stood on the sidewalk outside of the bar. Not too far away, but just enough distance to be able to clear her head and think things through. She was overthinking what just happened, she went over it so many times in her head and deemed her actions dramatic and childish. Maybe she should have been the one to tell him and everyone she didn't like it when they teased her about her crush; but a slither of her enjoyed it because it was some sort of acknowledgment of it on Bobby's side.

She was in her own little world, mindlessly looking at the array of random posters on the wall when in the corner of her eye; Bobby showed up next to her.

She must have been deep in thought as she failed to notice his presence right away, so he stood next to her in silence as he watched her and studied her every move. He saw her looking at the walls, admiring the art that covered them, before his gaze fell to the ground, and his thoughts started to swirl around in his head.

He took a deep breath to calm himself down. He wasn't supposed to feel like this, he was supposed to be just like any other boy that got the girl, and yet here he was—acting like a love-struck teen and struggling to get the right words out.

"I'm sorry," He finally spoke up, not knowing what to say. He had gone over it in his head during his quick walk to find her, he had made a defend script in his head but it all suddenly went out the window when he was finally next to her.

His voice startled her at first, causing her to flinch for a split second, before she turned her head to look at him. He looked nervous. She could see it in his eyes and the way he looked away from her.

She didn't know how to respond straight away; she felt her words stuck in her throat as she stared at him for a long moment before opening her mouth, "What are you apologising for..?"

"For being stupid," He said, his eyes flickered back and forth between the two of hers. He pushed his hands into the pockets of his jackets, feeling his mouth dry as a bundle of nerves ran through him. He took a step closer, and she angled her body towards his at the closer proximity; no longer looking at the art work on the wall.

"I just... I really really like you, y/n," He continued, emphasising the 'really' with a furrow of his brows; but his words must have reached her ears differently and her concept of them sounded like he was about to friend zone her.

She nodded, turning her head to look away from him and back toward the wall, "...As a friend," she finished the rest of his sentence, feeling the knot of sadness form in her throat. Don't cry, don't cry, stupid don't cry you're not 14.

"No, no," Bobby quickly exclaimed as she had misheard him. He reached out with one of his hands, gently taking hold of her chin to guide it back to look at him, "No, not as a friend—as more than that."

He saw her face soften at his clarification, and he allowed a small smile to form on his face as she took in his words, her eyes fixed on him. She looked so pretty.

"What?" She asked in utter confusion, his words were a mind bog—after months of him making fun of her and teasing her for her crush on him, he goes and tells her he feels the same way. Doubt crosses her mind, even though he is smiling so sweetly at her, "Look, I don't know if this is just another joke to make fun of me or if you're saying that because you feel bad. You're confusing me, Bobby."

Bobby shook his head, his heart clenching in his chest as he saw doubt and skepticism in her eyes. She didn't believe him. "No, no, no," he muttered, cupping her face in both his hands, keeping her gaze on him.

"I promise I'm not playing with you, I'm not messing with you. I'm telling you the truth," He looked into her eyes, not looking away for even one second as his thumbs slowly started to trace her features; his touch feather-like.

She almost melted at his touch, but she still couldn't wrap her head around the whole ordeal. They say women were confusing, but maybe it was actually men who were more confusing.

"Then they would you tease me about it for months. I don't understand why. Why did it take you this long to tell me," She asked him, frowning even more as she searched his eyes for the truth.

He sighed, letting go of her face with both hands as he ran one through his hair, "I don't know, I guess I was too scared. Because this is a big deal," he explained, a hint of a nervous laugh escaping his mouth as he pushed his hands back into his pocket.

"You're our photographer. I didn't want to face it and have things be awkward if it never worked out between us and you had to end up quitting because of it," he explained, his gaze shifting all over the place as he tried to keep calm, "I like you too much—I like having you around with the guys, I like having you with me."

"I wouldn't quit because of that," she responded to his words with a scoff and a roll of her eyes, acting as if it was a ridiculous idea.

"So... what are we gonna do?" her voice was softer now, her shoulders slumping slightly as her eyes lifted to find his again.

"I guess that depends on what you want us to be," He responded with a shrug, and he leaned in closer toward her, his voice grew quieter; "Because I know exactly what I want to be."

Her breath stopped in her throat when she noticed he was leaning in closer, and suddenly; everything in the world stilled as she gazed into his eyes. "Bobby..." She breathed out quietly, she didn't know if it was a question, a statement, or whatever... its all she managed to mutter out.

She looked so beautiful in this second. His mind went blank as he got lost in her eyes, the way her lips moved when she said his name was addicting.

He lifted his hand up from his pocket again, gently brushing a lose strand of her hair, "Can I kiss you?" He whispered ever so sweetly.

Shock waves flooded her entire system at his words, not knowing if she imagined that he said that or if she misheard him. She didn't know what would happen between them after this, she didn't know if it would develop into a relationship, but all she knew was that something would completely change between them if their lips connected.

But right now she didn't care if tomorrow they didn't speak to eachother at all, she didn't care if it was awkward between them when the euphoria of the moment died down and was replaced by something more serious.

After a beat, she nodded her head ever so softly and muttered out a simple; "Kiss me."

Bobby didn't hesitate. He closed the distance between them and softly connected their lips together. He cupped her cheeks in both his hands, holding her in place as he kissed her with a gentleness that made her heart beat a little faster. His lips were perfectly fitting over her bottom lip, and he almost smiled against the kiss from how utterly perfect it felt to kiss her.

It was so soft, so gentle. He held her delicately, and treated the kiss like it was such a fragile thing as if it would break if he handled it wrong.

Maybe it was the alcohol flooding through their systems that made them kiss without thinking it through. They would have to talk about it tomorrow at some point when the alcoholic haze wore of and reality settled in. And what scared them the most was not knowing if this kiss would make or break them.

[allieebobo]

Do you have any if recommendation?

Ooh! I have really, really bad memory(!!) but these are current faves that I have played/replayed recently that I can think of. A lot of the authors are also THE BEST HUMAN BEINGS EVER. So, double recommendation.

I probably missed a bunch out, so take this as a non-exhaustive list! In no particular order:

(Edit: Added some descriptions but yeah I got a little unhinged so I'm sorry nothing makes sense or if the quality of the write-up went down over time/did not actually give you any useful info)

WIPs with demos

Citadel, @bouncyballcitadel (I think of all the IFs on this list, this one makes me sweat the most. And I've said it once and I'll say it again: the dialogue is so snappy and well-written, and characters are SO DAMNED LOVEABLE.)

Infamous, @infamous-if (I've been manifesting Band/Musician IFs for the longest time, and then this popped up! I've even played Choice of a Rockstar, that's how desperate I was... Anyway, this is legions better than that. Angsty ex routes are my kryptonite, and Seven is just. Inevitable.)

Defiled Hearts: The Barbarian, @defiledheartsblog (I went into this wanting something juicy and fun/historical—and it's all of those things, but I didn't expect it to be so damned funny, too. The ROs are all impeccable.)

Raiders of the Caravan and Apartment 3-3, @leftski-if (A'ight listen, fantasy slice-of-life is my fave genre, and these are IT. Like, everything I never knew I needed in my life, and SO cozy/wholesome, with a cast of characters that I want to befriend in real life.)

The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes: An Affair of the Heart @doriana-gray-games (First off, the customization in this game is INSANE, and the branching too. I've replayed a couple of times and the little variations I discover each time just blows my mind. Secondly, it's so funny and written so well. Ngl I'm not a Sherlock fan but that's just testament to how amazing this IF is.)

When Life Gives You Lemons, @when-life-gives-you-lemonssss (Modern slice-of-life with an adorable kid, a bunch of hot ROs, CC. Hill's humor, what can I say?)

Golden @milaswriting (Really interesting world-building, one of the coolest fictional cities I've read in an IF, AND I'm obsessed with the ROs, in particular K de la Renta. Also Mila is such an awesome writer, I'm beyond excited for @beyondthegame.)

A Tale of Crowns @ataleofcrowns (This game is beautiful, polished, and SO exciting. Honestly, it looks like the kind of game created by a whole-ass game studio and would cost $50 to buy, it's that good. I really got swept up by this IF—probably played it all in one go.)

Rougi @rougi-if (Again, another game with scrumptious visuals/UI and also is just so well-crafted. I love the premise too, it's so original and fresh.)

Scout: An Apocalypse Story @anya-dev (Unfortunately this one might be on hiatus but I am/was really, really obsessed.)

Wayfarer @idrellegames (Love the game mechanics of this one, and the visuals. Probably controversial, but I like the D&D / random dice effect. And I also like the fact that it feels like an old-school RPG.)

Chop shop @losergames (The premise is all I needed to be sold, really—I'd always wanted to buy GTA as a kid but my parents were like NO WAY. Anyway, this IF did not disappoint, and let me live all my childhood dreams.)

Edit: AHH! How could I forget, one of my recent faves, Folksaga @folksaga-if (Lush atmospheric writing, super unique premise—norse mythology, plus I'm head over heels for Katla).

Completed IFs

Butterfly Soup 1 and 2 @brianna-lei (these are completed and I will never not promote them. Honestly the most adorable, wholesome, funny sports/coming-of-age IF I've read)

Elsinore: After Hamlet @lapinlunairegames (Insanely cool premise, insanely cool execution)

The Thick Table Tavern @manonamora-if (I love bar/tavern games, and this one actually lets you mix drinks! Instant fave.)

Other HGs/COGs I love: Slammed, Tin Star, Fallen Hero, If it pleases the court, A Player's Heart (these last two are so underrated, though I guess cause it's mainly wlw)

[hyukalyptus]

a coincidence — rockstar!yeonjun x fem!reader

cw. rockstar!yeonjun x audiencemember!reader, chubby!reader implied, fem!reader, mentions of alcohol, oral (m. receiving), sex (condoms mentioned <3), roleplaying(?), orgasm denial, lmk if there's more. notes. this is part of @napofamoon's growing pain rock band!au collaboration :D thank you @nightlyawnzz for being a beta reader :3 and thank you angie for that one line of dialogue (didn't know if you wanted to like not be tagged lol), not super well edited, smut under cut <3 wc. 2.8K

Who is that? Yeonjun’s seen hundreds—thousands—of pretty girls at his concerts. But no one’s ever truly made an impression. Every once in a while, there’d be one that barely stuck out from the crowd, but nothing ever stuck. After a while, the crowds started getting blurry. Has performing become a bit boring for him? Maybe. There wasn’t a spark anymore. No reason to perform. 

But you…you immediately caught his eye. A bright star in a sea of dull strangers—smiling, drinking, dancing to the music, having a blast. You looked fun, exciting, flirty. And he wanted—needed—to get to know you. But first, he needed to get your attention. 

He’s cool, casual with his bass; he’s a natural. The way he moves with the music, pouty lips singing under his breath along with the frontman, the stage lights sparkling in his eyes—it didn’t take much focus for him to nail every song. 

So he decided to have a bit of fun tonight. Moving a bit more, putting on a bit more of a show than usual, getting closer to the edge of the stage without being too obvious. All to get your attention. So why won’t you look at him? Just a bit closer and maybe…

Bingo. 

You’ve locked eyes and there’s that something he’s been looking for. Something he’s been looking for for a while. That spark. That reason to put on a bit of a show. 

And you could tell. You were just as into it as he was. 

Watching his every move—flirting without crossing a line, giving him seductive looks, dancing in his direction. It was fun. It was thrilling. That unspoken desire between two strangers—and one of them admires the other before they’ve even met? How scandalous, hm? The tension grew and grew until—

“Thank you everyone; good night!”

But…what do you do now? How could he find you later? Oh, why didn’t he slip the security guard his number to give to you? Where are you? No, no, no, don’t leave. 

There was nothing he could do; the lights were dim, the curtain was drawn, the crowd was spilling out the front door. You never left his mind, though. Not when he put his bass in its case, not when he zipped his hoodie up to leave, not when he plopped down on his hotel bed, never. 

Desperately trying to get you off his mind, he heads down to the hotel bar. Oh, how pathetic is this? A world-famous rock star sitting alone at a hotel’s bar sipping a whiskey feeling sorry for himself? Over what? Some girl? 

Please don’t sit there…he begs silently watching a strange figure take the seat in the bar stool next to him. Despite the need for alone time, he couldn’t help but glance over at the sound of your—

“Just a vodka soda, please.” 

Oh, shit. It’s you. What does he do? Why are his hands so sweaty? When did he turn into such a loser? Getting this worked up over a girl. He needs to get your attention again, but he doesn't want to come off too pushy. You’re here alone too and maybe you wanna keep it that way. 

Fuck it. 

He clears his throat, cooly-maybe-not-so-cooly saying, “I saw you in the audience.” Just as you planned. Well, sort of. You didn’t mean to run into him. Glancing across the room at the hotel you were staying in to see that hot bassist sitting alone at the bar was pure luck. 

But you need to keep it cool. Don’t be too…weird. Just a simple glance and gentle nod is enough. 

“Did you enjoy the show?” He asks, knowing your answer. He could see your desire just as much as you could see his, but you weren’t gonna give in just yet. You nod again, adding a quiet hum. “Are you from around here or…?” Should he move a bit closer? Sure. Should he brush your knee with his fingertips? Why not? Oh, they give you goosebumps. You don’t pull away or even flinch. You’re welcoming this. 

“No, I’m here on business. That’s why I’m, you know, at a hotel right now.”

“Right.” He pauses, like he has to think of the next thing to say, “I’m Yeonjun, by the way. But you already knew that.”

“And what makes you think that?”

“No reason,” he snarks. “Just that you bought a ticket to my show.”

“As if,” you roll your eyes. “I was bored and the show was right down the street.” Lie. All of this was lies. Of course you were a fan. Both of you knew that. 

“So you got front-row seats from a scalper then?”

Now it’s time for some fun. Turning toward him, you introduce yourself, face inching closer and closer, his hand sneaking up higher on your thigh, your heartbeat getting faster with each millimeter. You maintain your confidence best you know how, but you must admit, he’s intimidating. Is it that way he unapologetically stares at your body? The way he’s flirting with a fan after a show? The way his lips look like they’d perfectly wrap around your—

“Do you always find fans to flirt with after the show?” 

“No. Never,” he chuckles, shaking his head. “But you’re so…” he tucks some fallen hair behind your ear, eyes roaming your face, “gorgeous. I haven’t stopped thinking about you in the audience. Then boom, here you are at my hotel’s bar. Must be fate.”

“Or a coincidence.” 

Both resorting to a shrug, there’s tension in the air like you’ve never felt. It’s excruciating. He’s leaning closer to you, oh, what was he about to say?

“I saw you watching me,” he whispers right against your ear—close enough to feel his breath. Fuck, he’s good. This is gonna be fun. And you’re gonna be a brat. At least for a little. 

“I was watching all five of you,” you say, adding an annoying eye roll for good measure. 

“Nope,” he says, sitting back and smiling like he knows a secret of yours. Which he may. “Only me.” 

“So what if I was?” You narrow your eyes at him. You weren’t gonna break eye contact now. You can’t. But he doesn’t expect you to keep it. He expects you to cower and blush like everyone always does. But you don’t. And he likes that. “I’m waiting.”

“Makes me wonder what else you wanna watch me do is all.”

“Like what?” 

“I dunno,” he chuckles. “You tell me. You were the one that couldn’t stop staring at me.”

That jerk. That stupid fucking jerk. Looking at him with heavy-lidded eyes, you glance down at his lips—side note: jesus fucking christ they look delicious but that’s beside the point right now—and lean in as close as you can without touching him. Parting his own lips, he tilts his head just barely and closes his eyes. 

“Aw, you’re so cute.” You giggle. “You thought I was gonna kiss you?”

While you’re watching him retreat, defeated at his own game, he runs his fingers through his messy black hair. 

“So you think I’m cute?” 

Let’s give in now. “No.” You stand, taking a deep breath and walk behind him, sliding your hands down his chest, bending to meet his ear to whisper, “I think you’re fucking sexy.” 

Goosebumps—but this time, they’re on him. Has anyone ever done this to him before? Let’s take it one step further. You bite his ear lobe gently and he sighs, your name falling out of his lips breathlessly. 

“Hm?”

“Come upstairs with me,” he whispers. 

Another step further. Sliding your hand up the back of his neck, you grip some of his hair, tugging it harshly, his eyes widening as he hisses. 

“Don’t tell me what to do.”

“Will you come upstairs with me? Please.”

Turning him around in his barstool, you stand between his legs, his eyes roaming up and down your body. “I thought you’d never ask.” 

It was all a blur as he took you upstairs—heading straight for the elevator, pushing you against the wall to finally crash his lips into yours, hands roaming your body trying to decide what part of it to grab onto. The ding of the elevator snaps you out of it before stumbling down the hallway to his room. 

When he finally gets the door open and the door slams behind you, he’s gentler, like he wants to take his time with you. But you don’t. You drag him toward the bed and push him to the mattress to straddle his hips. Wrapping his hands around your waist, his hands slip under the skirt of your dress to squeeze and squeeze and squeeze. 

Lifting off him, you lift your dress over your head as he eyes your pretty white lace lingerie while he smirks to himself. Fuck, he looks hot when he bites his lip like that. And, god, you need his shirt off. Tugging at it, you rock your hips back and forth to shimmy it off while he stays laying down. Hands on bodies, breath heavy, lips on each other’s…god, this was fun. 

He flips you to your back, pressing his lips to your chest, trailing kisses over your collarbone. Pushing your face to the side to access your neck, he covers it in sloppy, wet kisses. 

Since when was your bra so uncomfortable? And since when was it such a cock blocker? With that out of the way, his lips find your nipples, sucking harshly, but licking them to soothe the stings. Tugging at the waistband of his joggers, you can’t stop begging him to fuck you. 

“Don’t tell me what to do,” he says, mimicking your tone from earlier.

“Please, Yeonjun—” you gasp at the feeling of his finger gliding over your clit slowly—slower than anyone’s ever touched you before. But it’s amazing. “Will you please fuck me?” 

“Not yet,” he whispers. Standing to pull his pants and boxers down in one motion, he looks over your body. Oh, what was he gonna do with you and everything your body has to offer? Put you on your knees so he can cum all over your full tits? Fuck you from behind so he can see your ass jiggle? Fuck you in missionary so he can see your tits and tummy jiggle while he squeezes your thighs? There’s too many options to pick from.

But before he can make the decision, you crawl over to the foot of the bed, making a big show of it before reaching for his hips. Wrapping your hands around his hips to squeeze his ass, you pull him closer, kissing the tip of his cock. You were going to be the death of him. But you haven’t even tasted him yet. Glancing up at him through your eyelashes, you finally sink down on him completely. 

And fuck do you feel good. 

Fingers fumbling through your hair as he tries to steady himself, his head falls back to let out the most beautiful moan you’ve ever heard from a man. He whispers your name. 

“What?” You look at him, your lips forming a pout while you wait for an answer. He responds with a simple eyebrow raise. “You said my name,” you say matter-of-factly. “What is it?”

“Don’t tease me.”

“What are you gonna do about it?” 

Hooking his hands behind your knees, he pulls to flip you on your back while you let out a yelp. He boxes you in with his elbows, dragging his teeth over one of your nipples while you grip his hair, back arching to meet his mouth. He covers you in kisses. You don’t think anyone’s ever kissed you this much. Nothing will ever be enough after this. 

As he makes his way down, your legs fall over his shoulders, showering your thick thighs with kisses. Using his mouth to put the smallest amount of pressure on your clit over your thong, he makes you whine and involuntarily grind against his chin, trying to relieve any tension. But he’s not giving in either. Backing away, he chuckles at you. That jerk. Why does he have to be such a jerk?

“Don’t do that to me,” you say. Eyes dark, he takes the waistband of your thong between his teeth, pulling them down slowly, letting them drag over your skin. Kneeling between your thighs, he keeps that spine-tingling eye contact as he rubs his tip over your center. That sends a jolt through your body, letting your brain finally catch up with your body. 

“Will you wear a condom?”

Nodding, he quickly rustles through his suitcase messily splayed across the floor. Ripping the condom open with his teeth, he starts to roll it down himself, which is a glorious sight. And he can tell the effect it has on you. You smirk, glancing up at his eyes—eyes that are sparkling back at you. 

“Eyes on my cock, baby.”

Fine by you. Sliding it down so slowly, you’re entranced. He knows exactly what he’s doing. 

One hand pressing on your hip, the other lining himself up with your pussy, he pushes himself inside you, your eyes rolling back and he groans in your ear. Short shallow breaths grace your skin as he thrusts fast and hard, just like you wanted. 

Bodies rocking together, he stares at your tits bouncing with his movements. Your nails start dragging down his back, but he quickly pulls out to turn you over, lifting you by your hips to bring you on all fours, your ass on full display. He spanks you, hard enough that your cheek will be pink tomorrow morning. 

Pressing on your lower back to deepen the arch, he thrusts into you again. With your face squished against the mattress, his hands dig into the fat of your hips to hold you in place. The fire in your stomach roars, legs trembling, muscles weak. He yanks you up by your hair—you were hoping he’d do that—to press your back to his chest, letting you feel how heavy he's breathing. 

“Don’t cum yet,” he says.

“Who said I was close?”

That evil laugh makes your eyes roll. “I can feel it.” Well, you can’t really argue with that. He was right. “Don’t.”

“You really like telling me what to do, huh?”

He snakes his hand in front of you to circle your clit, turning your whines to whimpers, desperately fighting the urge to let yourself go. What would happen if you did let yourself cum, though? It might be exciting to find out, hm? But being told what to do and when is just as exciting.

Grabbing his arm, your nails dig into his skin. He releases your hair, pushing you to the mattress roughly, face pressed against the mattress. Fists full of bed sheets, his hands spread across your ass, skin spilling through his fingers. 

It’s getting increasingly difficult to hold it together—the only thing letting you is knowing how good you must be making him feel if he’s making noises like that. 

“Yeonjun,” you gasp, his speed increasing. “Please.” The way he grunts tells you he’s close too, but he doesn’t plan on holding back. Pull my hair again, pull my hair again, pull my hair again, you keep thinking to yourself. And, oh, did you say that out loud? Because he pulls your hair again, finding an even deeper spot inside if you, the feeling spreading to your toes. 

“Please, Yeonjun—” you yelp. “Please let me cum.”

He groans again, your name falling out of his lips before adding, “Cum for me.”

Your loud whimpers are muffled by the pillow you’ve shoved your face into, the fire in your stomach roaring louder and louder until—

Fuck…

God, this is good. Your orgasm explodes inside you, fireworks going off in all directions, filling every nook and cranny of your body. Praising you through your orgasm, he encourages you to cum hard around him, reminding you of how good your pussy feels around his cock. 

Your body relaxes, but his doesn’t. He thrusts deeper inside of you, desperate to reach his own climax.

“Fuck—” he grunts, spanking you again. He loves seeing you jiggle like that. Reaching in front of you, he massages your tits, squeezing to get a firm grip. 

His breath hitches, his thrusts getting sloppy as he twitches inside you, groaning through his climax.

Collapsing on top of you, he catches his breath, chest rushing and falling against your back. Rolling off you to plop onto the mattress, he turns to look at your face while there’s a stillness in the air. 

“...so you’re a fan now?” 

“Haven’t I always been?”

Chuckling, his face turns to the ceiling, running his fingers through his hair, resting his arms above his head. As you make eye contact, both of you burst out laughing—

“I didn’t think you’d like the roleplaying thing as much as you did,” you giggle.

“Well, what can I say? It was hot,” he says. “Great idea, baby.” Tucking a piece of your hair behind your ear, he smiles at you, kissing your forehead. “I love bringing you on tour with us.”

“I love it too.”

[doki-doki-imagines]

Lin keui trio + johnny cage and kung lao with a rockstar reader who uses their guitar as a weapon

Bi-Han: -Keep the guitar as fas as possible from his ears. -Years of learning stealth and now he had a partner that fucks everything up. -He won't calmly tell you to quiet down, he'll shout it like the seagull meme. -After all you should know Bi-Han has the same amount of patience of a starving lion when a big piece of meat is in front of its eyes… -You took already so many steps forward in your relationship, being ready to deal with your popularity and all of that, pls don't tug the chain too much. -Going on separate missions isn't a tragedy.

Kuai Liang: -Another stealth ninja that doesn't appreciate your weapon really much. -He just holds both his hands on his lips and sighs "Stay quiet." -Liang is really happy of your success and you are able to keep him out paparazzi and all of that so he doesn't mind your job. -Not a fan of rock music but he finds you super talented. -But pls don't go on a mission with him, he already sucks at stealth he won't improve with you.

Tomas Vrbada: -"You are so cool!! Your guitar is awesome! But you look better with it, you know, at home-" -I know I'm repetitive, but a noisy weapon paired with ninjas don't work well, one of you will end up damaged by this pair-up. -Tomas asked for a soundproof room and Liang accepted his request. -Not before glaring at him, thinking that the request was for other reasons, and not because Tomas wants to listen to your music at the highest volume his eardrums can suffer. -It's good also for the other reasons, don't worry.

Johnny Cage: -What a couple, when you go outside you are followed by hordes of paparazzi. -Johnny loves fighting with you! Use your guitar, smash their eardrums. -You also make a soundtrack for his moves and final hits; Johnny is living his "mc" dream. -He absolutely doesn't mind you being a rockstar, he also is a celebrity after all. -Gonna throw you his brief during a concert because if you have a billion fan he is one of them, if you have 1 fan he is the one, if…

Kung Lao: -That's absolutely cool and he wants you to teach him how to play guitar. -You can hear the pleas of Raiden "Wu Shi Academy requires peace and quiet, pls at times just Lao is too much don't give him THAT much power, pls-" -You teach him after all, because Lao refined his persuading techniques, but he can play only when you are there! For the peace of Raiden's heart. -He's gonna ask if he can become a member of your band and travel together; learn how to change topic as fast as possible.

[twiixr4kidz]

reading ur stuff makes my brain melt but like in a good way!

anyways! wallace and scott + evil exes and some headcannons for spending the holiday w them and like mistletoe shenanigans, maybe family? idk im gay

merry christmas (in april) everybody here's a little treat *pspsps at you all like you're kitty cats*

wallace, scott, and the evil exes meet the HOLIDAYSSSSSS

wallace wells:

wallace has a soft spot for the holidays

he loves the cooler weather, the snow, the shopping, all of it

he also loves that this gives him a big fat JUICY opportunity to buy you things

he'll take you on little dates and outings just to see the things you look at and pick up

he'll take sneaky pictures of EVERYTHING you show an interest in

on christmas morning, it looks like fucking santa showed up at your house multiple times

"wallace... what did you do...?" you'll ask, and all you get in return is a shrug and a sly smile

wallace truly doesn't care if you couldn't afford to get him nearly as much

he adores spoiling you and getting to see the look of sheer joy on your face as you realize he LISTENED

you're a gift enough for him :3

scott pilgrim:

on the contrary, scott does NOT enjoy the holidays very much

it's not that he doesn't like all the cheeriness and the decorations and such

he just thinks it's all tacky

he prefers staying home and spending time together there

so when you suggest doing something "fun for the holidays", he immediately jumps at the "LET'S WATCH SOME MOVIES"

"hm... i had something ELSE in mind..."

you walk over to the kitchen, crouching to reach something from the lower cupboards

"...gingerbread men?" you nod excitedly

now THIS is something you both can get behind

after making a mess of wallace's kitchen (oops), the two of you throw on a movie to watch while the cookies bake and cool

and then you make even MORE of a mess decorating them

fuck it, cookies that look like every member of sex bob-omb

matthew patel:

matthew has had a pretty different christmas experience compared to you

he's really quick to talk about all of the cultural differences and he's happy to engage himself in your traditions

he's delighted when he comes home to see that your house is completely covered in bright lights

christmas dinner for the two of you is going to be a whacky combination of your favorite dishes

he's going to insist that the two of you spend as much time in the snow as possible

matthew loves building snowmen. he's like, a professional snowman builder. even if you think there isn't enough snow to make one, he'll surprise you.

most of your hats and gloves and scarfs will go missing because he's using them to give the snowmen some comfort in the chilly weather

lucas lee:

mr. lee is very well-versed in the holidays

have you seen the movies he's in? come on

so naturally, he's like "babe. me. you. party. here?" and you're like "ok cool!!"

you think the party is gonna be normal and fine when a bunch of super famous celebrities show up at your door

lucas is so casual about it, while you're standing there, jaw on the floor

if you're the one to have prepared all the food, he makes it well known to the guests

even if you were just the decorator

if your favorite celebrity shows up to the party... oh, you bet lucas is making sure they leave you an autograph

once everybody's gone, you'll be flopped on the couch, still in shock that so many famous people were in your humble abode

and lucas thinks it's hilarious

todd ingram:

he kinda lives for cute holiday domesticity

todd's the kind of guy to pay VERY close attention to the things you look at or comment on at the store (he acts super nonchalant about to it to not ruin the surprise)

he likes to spoil you with his super cool rockstar money :3

he really likes the idea of playing in the snow with you like you're kids

he gets cold really quickly but he does his best to ignore it so you can build a snow family

when you get back inside, he makes his special recipe hot chocolate with marshmallows to warm the two of you up from the inside out

if it's like a borderline blizzard outside, he'd rather stay in with you, watching holiday movies and decorating your place

roxie richter:

roxie's kind of weird about the holidays... it's kind of as if she's never had a good holiday experience

you're going to change that

you mention mistletoe around the house to her, knowing that you're her biggest weakness, and you watch her face light up like a christmas tree

there's mistletoe in every. single. doorway. every hallway, above the bathroom sink, on the ceiling?? she goes all out

roxie also really likes going to see the lights!! she'll have google maps pulled up the minute you're in the car, insisting that "oh, there's one of those light places like, 10 minutes away from where we're going!! what if we just... took... a detour... hehe..."

neither of you really cared to cook a fancy dinner on christmas day, opting to order chinese takeout or something like that. it gradually became a tradition for the teo of you to forgo cooking on holidays

kyle katayanagi:

...party?

PARTY?? DID YOU SAY PARTY??

if there is one motherfucker would loves parties, it's kyle

so when you mention that your family is having a little holiday get-together, kyle ignores the word "get-together" and replaces it with "party"

he's gonna be the best plus one ever

when you get to your family's house, it's surprisingly nice and quiet

you walk inside, greet your parents, and drag and excited kyle around your house as you introduce him to your other relatives

"babe... this is a lame party..." "i never said this was a party" "...oh"

he ends up disappearing for a while only for you to find him face-deep in the desert table

"fruitcake tastes like ASS" he says as you drag him away from the table by the collar of his shirt like a puppy, all while he crosses his arms and pouts

ken katayanagi:

very quaint kind of holiday guy

ken doesn't care too much for the holidays but if they mean a lot to you, he suddenly loves them!!

his favorite part is the tree honestly

he doesn't mind braving the cold weather and the snow, hunting for a tree to take home. he's like an encyclopedia of facts so half the time he's spouting off about random tree facts

he'll to through all the work to cut the tree down and throw it over his shoulder if it means he's impressing you...

lives for how excited you get when it's finally time to decorate. whether you wanna go all out or do something small and traditional, he's rocking with it

gideon graves:

gideon is another one that goes all out on the holidays

they're his favorite time of the year

his place is decorated head to fucking toe with decorations

his trees have to be like 3 feet taller than him or else he's disappointed... which means the two of you are going to be wheeling a ladder to put the star on the top of it!!

spends a fuckton of money on you because "what kind of boyfriend would i be if i didn't?" and "babe. trust me. you deserve it."

this mofo is gonna be playing holiday music in NOVEMBER. he's really annoying about it but it's kind of cute how much it means to him. he'll tell you all kinds of stories about how his christmases were when he was a kid and it's really sweet

[valeisaslut]

hi this might be super specific but something about rockstar!ellie and supermodel!r would be so cool!! kinda like bella hadid and the weeknd dinamic 😋😋

omg no nonnie that’s not too specific at all — i totally get the bella x abel vibe, like model x musician is such an elite combo, the energy is absolutely there.

but i gotta say… popstar reader is sooo much cooler to me. there’s just something about them both being in music — same industry, different corners of it — that makes everything feel richer. like the collab song. the grammy’s tension. the songs written about each other. the duets. the jealousy. the rumors. the twitter drama. it’s such a fun dynamic and i love music too much to not have them both in that world yk.

but okay wait… i can write something

ellie did kind of have a thing with a model once. it wasn’t public or anything, just one of those undefined situationships that lasted a couple months too long. the girl was famous famous — vogue covers, ysl campaigns, met gala type of thing. they met at a party LA, and ellie thought she was hot, mysterious, the kind of girl who’d always have a lighter and never text back.

they’d hook up when they were in the same city, do the whole hotel room cigarettes and expensive wine thing. ellie would strum some unreleased songs on her guitar just to make her feel a little bit more special and she would say stuff like “you should take your shirt off more, your abs would sell albums.”

it got old fast.

deep down, ellie always knew she was shallow. hot, yeah, and fun to fuck, but there was no depth there. no soul. no real curiosity about her music, or her mind, or who she was outside the stage.

so she got bored, emotionally checked out, and just… ghosted. one day she stopped replying and never explained. the model posted some vague insta story like “hate being replaced by a song” and then unfollowed her everywhere.

jesse still jokes about it and ellie’s like “bro that wasn’t real. that was just something that happened.”

but it was different with you. always had been. she never let the model stay the night — made up excuses, early rehearsals, claimed she “slept bad next to people,” or sometimes just straight up said “nah, i need my space tonight.” cold as hell.

but you? you stayed the whole night. she even cuddled you. the FIRST time you hooked up. you got her t-shirt and jeans thrown at your face the next morning. you walked out of that hotel room wearing her clothes. on purpose.

she watched you go with that look in her eyes like she’d just seen god.

and thats when the story started.

so yeah. popstar reader FOREVER. soulmates. collaborators. chart rivals. lovers. unmatched.

[boydepartment]

enhypen as things from 2014 tumblr

a/n: i am literally frothing at the mouth that 2014 tumblr is coming back. around 2016-2018 this aesthetic and mentality was my EVERYTHING. now in 2024 the mentality and aesthetic is still there just a lil more.... um flavorful for me 😋😋 but it’s okay! i also had to go on my LAPTOP to lay this out so please like this post... my ass worked hard on this- i also dont know if heeseung's aesthetic photo for his headcanons is messed up?? if it is i am so sorry

warnings- 2014 tumblr was a lil cray cray, but i worked my hardest to make sure none of the photos or themes would be triggering :) if you felt anything negative during reading these headcanons- tell me and i will add it to the warnings. but as far as i know and with my own experiences/disorder everything is pretty good and non triggering! :)

MASTERLIST

🕰️jungwon- specifically that one brand of music

okay let me elaborate: out of my league by the fitz and the tantrums

tongue tied by grouplove

electric love by børns

the really like happy yet sad songs??? he’s very like HES SO TONGUE TIED BY GROUPLOVE IM SORRY???? listen to the song that is jungwon he is that song. he is def like that summer romance who you never speak to again and it’s so sad because you loved him so much but now you’re like strangers. just wait till next summer tho, he’ll make you fall in love with him all over again. it’s bittersweet

⚰️heeseung- knee socks

okay me being out of pocket for a sec

heeseung is absolutely fucking insane and drives me nuts. and so do knee socks. any socks that go above the shin drive me fucking insane because they don’t sit properly ever, no matter the size the sock or the size i am they FALL. but i own like 4-6 pairs, because they look nice and make me feel pretty when they sit properly. heeseung drives me insane but i want to be his gf ☹️☹️

he’s def the type of guy to fix your socks too when he notices they’re shifting

🎥jay- the wallpaper quotes

like the sad ones everyone had EVERYWHERE. i was on quotev during this time around 2015?? and they were EVERYWHERE. bangchans wallpaper from 2018 core

these aesthetic quotes just remind me of jay. music is everything to him so he’s the mf to reblog this being like

“this resonates with me.”

he’s also very arctic monkeys coded but do what you will with that 😋😋HE WOULD SO POST HIS OWN WRITINGS AND AESTHETIC GUITAR PHOTOS. HES LIKE THE TUMBLR HOT GUY. imagine while he’s like super popular on tumblr ur like the actual “rockstar’s gf” aesthetic. LIKE THAT ONE FUCKING PHOTO OF THE 1975 ROBBERS MUSIC VIDEO??? I THINK IT WAS THAT ONE RIGHT??? i’m attaching it rn

💋jake- the bold lip makeup + messy photos

dayum let me get out of pocket rq again

that really specific dark aesthetic where it’s in parking lots and blurry and you can make out the dark lip makeup, bleached damaged platinum blonde hair, and the makeup is messy. everything is messy

HEUWBDJBFJAVSHDBBD that is jake :) he’s def the type of guy to be like “wait let’s take a cool photo.” then kisses you to smudge your lipstick then snaps a photo with the flash so when you’re alarmed by the flash you move and it makes the photo all cool looking bc it’s blurry.

👓sunghoon- the john green obsession

i’ve read every john green book pre 2016

i hated looking for alaska it was fucking insane. however sunghoon is like the good part about the paper towns book. like the fun road trip part. that happened right? or did i imagine that? NO IT DID. sunghoon very like curl up bbg im gonna read this book to you and make little stupid comments during it. def the type to have you in his arms while he reads, you hold the book and he has his hands over yours, softly rubbing circles.

💍sunoo- the victorias secret aesthetic

this is actually me rn sorry, all my clothes come from there pretty much. if it’s not thrifted it’s from victoria’s secret. it’s not just lingerie, they have like everything there. NONETHELESS it also screams sunoo. a lot of it is very like chic in a way and it just fits him perfectly. the black and pink colors, the small pops. it just really fits him. the aesthetic is just chefs kiss. especially since i feel like he’d be obsessed with the lotions (i own the mint chocolate lotion and wear it)

def the type of bf to come home with new body sprays for both of you. probably mixing scents too. MATCHING JACKETS AS WELL

📸riki- the electra heart album

MARINA AND THE DIAMONDS. god everything abt this album screams riki.

me relistening to this album and realizing how much it did effect me😨😨😨😨 maybe i’m just projecting now but besides the point

that album is so like riki coded let me get quotes

“I think I want your, your American tan- I think you're gonna be my biggest fan”

“The pretty lies, the ugly truth”

“All I ever wanted was the world- I can't help that I need it all”

“Rule number three, wear your heart on your cheek- But never on your sleeve, unless you wanna taste defeat”

“You're never gonna love me, so what's the use?”

“you don’t love me- big fucking deal”

"question good and question bad."

okay i’m GONNA BE WRITING A BOOK I HAVE TO STOP. he’s def the type of bf where if he hears you listening to this album he’s like “wtf…” then finds himself humming to it. he’d be like that with all your music taste too. riki with black chipped nailpolish OKAY I WILL SHUT UP ABT HIM NOW

[ncis-yp]

A place you shouldn’t be (Tony x reader)

You were a young spitfire. Threatened into military school by your father and given a choice.

“Go to college or go join the Marines. But you’re not going to act up in my house” you could faintly hear your dads voice in the background of your mind as you returned to Virginia.

You had done neither. You didn’t go to college, and you didn’t join the marines. Yet, here you were the disappointment of your fathers first marriage. Baggage that he had to carry around after your mom died.

“(Y/n)? (Y/n).” You heard your buddies voice call out as you tuned back into reality. You were back where you used to hang. A bar, where you played your very first gig when you were just 14 years old.

A younger singer with a strong voice. You could sing like no other, and the raspy, gravelly voice you had made it perfect for your band. Rock and roll, all types.

Time Skip~

You didn’t know it at the time, but your dad caught word that you were back in town and made it a point to watch you perform. But boy was he heated when he saw you.

Rockstar in the flesh. You were onstage singing your heart out. Your leather vest flying around you. Your arms covered in tattoos flexed as you moved. You were wearing a bikini top and shorts. Your eye makeup slightly smudged, and your (h/c) was a mess. But boy oh boy did you look like Shannon.

You had found a handsome man standing close to the stage. He was in a suit, it looked like he’d just got outta work. But boy was he having a good time. You locked eyes as you sang the next part of your song.

“Sweat dripping down our bodies but I’m begging for more/ got my hand on you cock with your pants on the floor/ I’m moaning out your name while you’re cursing mine/and I’ll beg you just to cum but you keep taking your time/we were just ripping off clothes 5 minutes ago/when we were just back stage after my show/you said you wanted pictures but came in for some kisses/ but don’t pull out and just make me your missus” you wink as you scream those lyrics as the band began the chorus. The man smiled and raised an eyebrow. Pretty sure he was now in love with you.

Your father on the other hand was furious. Those lyrics and the way your body was moving in stage. God would he love to hear what you had to say. Once your show ended you made your way to the man you were looking at.

“Hey there” he says.

“Hey” you responded smirking.

“Great set up there. You are a really good singer” he raised his drink slightly.

“Ha ha thank you!” You smile deeply.

“Tony.” He said. “That’s my name. And yours, or and I just supposed to call you little miss Rockstar?”

You giggled at his joke “No the names (y/n)”

“Wow. That fits you perfectly” he chuckles. “I’ve heard your band play before… I was super happy to hear about the show close by so I had to make it”

“Yeah had to play a show here, I grew up close by here.“ You reply.

“Well that’s fucking awesome! If you’re around a few more days we should hang… maybe get some drinks” Tony winks. “And maybe some truth to those lyrics you sang to me earlier” he winked.

“Of course of course” he handed you a pen and write your number on the napkin he handed you. You kissed his cheek before placing the pen back in his hand. “Nice meeting you, Tony. Call me” you walk away.

The next day~

You waltz into NCIS, your visitors pass shiny as you approached your dad’s bullpen area. You hadn’t been at that place in at least 6 years.

“If you were in my house you’d be grounded” his voice thundered as you turned to face him.

“Nice to see you too, Dad”

“Those words were disgusting” he says. “You looked awful. I have $5 that says you reeked of beer and cocaine while you were up there” he continues.

“Yeah and I have $500 that says I’m clean” you fire back casually. “I missed you”

“Come back home and you’re grounded, (y/n), grounded”

“I’m 24” you yawned.

“This is exactly what I didn’t want” he throws up his hands.

“I’m cool” you reply defensively. “The kids get down with me and I’m ducking awesome”

“No. You’re not “cool” or “fucking awesome” (y/n)… you could be the next… I don’t know! OZZY OSBORNE”

“Hey hey, he’s cool as fuck!! Met him once”

“This is a joke to you.” He said sourly.

“Hey boss bad time?” You saw Tony walk up.

“Tony”

“(Y/n)?” He says. “What’re you doing here?”

“My dad works here” you point at Gibbs.

“Sure im your dad?” Gibbs stalks away.

Time skip~

You and Tony had decided to grab lunch. As you sat and told him the story of you and your dad he listened intently. Asking questions every so often, as he did so.

“Well, thank you so much for lunch” Tony said as he walked you to your car. “I never knew this Thai place existed.”

You laughed “yeah, I used to love it” you say stopping at your car. In a fit of impulse Tony pushed his lips onto yours. You kissed back roughly as your tongues fought for dominance, Tony pulled one of your legs up and gained domain of your mouth. You unlocked the door and fell inside the back seat, Tony falling on top of you. He closed the door behind him.

The pair of you wasted barely any time with foreplay as you palmed his erection. Tongues mangled together Tony roughly jammed his hand in your pants, teasing your folds.

“Can I do this?” His voice came out in a quiver. He was getting progressively hornier as the two of you went through your motions.

“Yeah, but don’t stop once you start” you whisper kissing his neck. His fingers plunged deep into your core, you moaned as you soaked his fingers.

“FffUCK (y/n)” he sighed as you played with his dick. You rapidly undid his belt. “Do you have a favorite position? Tell me what you want. I wanna please you the way you wanna be pleased”

“Doggy style and slut me out” you say pulling down your shorts. You flipped over and almost instantly Tony’s dick was pumping in and out of you. Your back arched as he roughly pounded into you.

“Oh my god” you heard him groan as he fucked.

“Fuck you feel so good” you say as you further arched your back seeking more. “Oh my god, Tony” you moan. He places a hand on your back as he fucks you. You could admit it… fucking in the backseat was uncomfortable to say the least, but FUCK did he feel so good he made it feel worth it.

Your moans, Tony’s curses, and the sound of dick slapping skin were the only sounds you could hear in your delicate musicians ears. Your ass bounced against his thighs as his dick plowed into you. Again and again and again.

“Fuck (y/n)” he groaned. “I’m so close”

“Me too, please don’t stop” you breathe out. Your breathe getting rapid and moans getting higher as your pussy throbbed around his dick.

“Fuck fuck fuck” he moans gutterally as he comes deeply inside of you. His orgasm sending you right over the edge. He rode out out orgasm and pulled out of you, allowing your body to fall back against his as you both breathed heavily.

“Im so sorry” he said as he gently rubbed your arm.

“For what?” You responded grabbing some the baby wipes you carried in your car, passing him some before beginning clean yourself. He took your hand away and started cleaning you himself.

“I came inside you. I’ll buy you a Plan B if you want… or we can talk about having it… I don’t know, it’s whatever you want to do, I’m just sorry I-“

“Hey, relax.” You say softly grabbing his hand. His eyes darted to you. “I’m in birth control. You don’t have to worry about that okay?”

“Okay” he nodded kissing your forehead.

Once the two of you were cleaned up Tony stood in the door way of the drivers side as you buckled your seat belt.

“So dinner?” He asked. You pulled him closed to you but his belt loops.

“Dinner with you?” He nods bending down to your level. “Of course” you kiss his lips softly.

“Okay sounds good.” He says. “Drive safe beautiful”

“Thanks handsome” you giggled as you pull out.