#was it casual when the other guitarist was getting beat the fuck up and you jumped in to help him leo

[fredlikesbreakfast]

urgh the barfight scene the barfight scene

[katmoonz]

Marauders Band AU Headcanons

Notes: I wrote this all within an hour. I couldn’t decide on whether Sirius would be the guitarist or the singer so I’ve written for him as both.

Tw: Most of these are sexual in one way or another

-Bassist!Remus would get you to sit on the edge of the amp whilst the band practices so that you can feel the vibrations in your clit. He’d smirk every so often seeing you try to keep your noises in so as not to alert the others how stimulated you were getting

-Drummer!James doing tricks with his drumsticks because he loves to see the admiration on your face whenever he does a new one

-Guitarist!Sirius would spend hours practicing the intricate new riff he came up with by using your clit to work out the timing. It feels like torture feeling his fingers work the right spot several times before moving away and leaving you on the edge

-Singer!Sirius getting frustrated at not being able to get the vibrato right on a new song he’s working on so decides to practice by eating you out, humming the tune into your clit until he feels that he can get the perfect vibrato for a particular verse or chorus

-Drummer!James pulling you into his lap on his break whilst he’s all sweaty to ask if you’d enjoyed the new beat he came up with

-Bassist!Remus taking off his sweater and giving it to you during an outdoor concert because he doesn’t want you to get cold, the top he wears underneath shows the definition of his biceps and you can’t wait until later when you can finally jump him

-Guitarist!Sirius telling you about this cool new guitar pick that he found and hypes it up asking if you would like to experience it. The pick vibrates, the vibration is music reactive and is the perfect size to put into your underwear so that you can experience Sirius’ band practice in a whole new stimulating way

-Drummer!James sits you on his lap, gives you some drumsticks and tells you to copy him whenever he sees you looking bored

-Singer!Sirius pulling you in for a kiss every time there’s a break in the song, as his band mates keep playing. He’ll get you all riled up from a passionate kiss before suddenly pulling away to sing the next lines of the song

-Bassist!Remus refuses to let you hear his latest new riff until your panties are in his pocket, then he casually checks your pussy afterwards to see how wet it’s gotten, if it’s sopping then he keeps the riff, if it’s not as wet as usual then he’ll change it or come up with a new one curious as to which notes and tempos make you the most aroused

-Singer!Sirius winking at you whilst he’s singing particularly dirty lines knowing how it makes you ache

-Drummer!James would get you to christen every new set of drumsticks he bought by fucking yourself with them until you get yourself off

-Guitarist!Sirius getting you to wear his rings whilst he plays because he doesn’t want to lose them. He promises a reward later if you manage not to drop them which can be difficult given the amount that he tends to have on him

Taglist: @sprucewoodlover @heartbeats-wildly @pottahishotasf @padf00ts-l0ver @divanca2006 @themarauderswhore @mrskatpotter @lovesanimals0000 @bunnyweasley23 @psamathegoesrawr

[weelittleweasley]

guitar lesson (f.w.)

prompt: the band that the weasley siblings had formed brought new excitement to hogwarts. new music, new 

pairing: guitarist!fred weasley x fem! reader

warnings: language, allusions to sex (for like one second)

word count: 4.7k

a/n: this is literally just pure fluff. pure cute musical fluff.

George groaned and halted his drumming, “Bloody hell, Ronald, it’s not that hard to get the chord progression right after the third time drilling the song!” he cried out before tucking a drumstick behind his ear. “We go from G to B minor to E minor back to B minor. What is so hard about that?” he scolds his brother who just rolls his eyes. “Do we want to get this right or not?” George looks to the rest of the band comprised of his other siblings.

Ron just retorted simply, “It’s the first time we’ve ran this song in weeks, George. Everyone is rusty. Just give it a rest. We’ll get it right next go. Besides, aren’t we due for a five?” he looks to his sister who gives him eager eyes and a nod, signaling they were in desperate need of a break. 

George scoffs at his younger brother and says, “No, you’ll get it right the next go. Which starts now. Ginny, from the chorus. Fred, keep the chords crunchy, it sounds better that way. Ron, don’t fuck it up. Ready?” George directs the band as they all sigh. 

They had only been in band practice for an hour and a half and George was already making it a living hell. Sure, it was his idea to form a band and it seemed like a great idea. It was a way to spend more time together, to make music, to meet new people, and blow off some steam. If anything, Fred was the first one to jump on the offer. He knew that it would be a way for his family to bond, but also a way for him to show off his guitar skills that he had been honing for the past few years. Fred had once said, “Ladies love musicians. Especially the guitarists.”

But now it seemed like the band, which once was a low-key, stress free environment has changed wildly. Almost overnight things took a rapid 360. George had managed to book a gig for their band, The Burrow Bangers, at Three Broomsticks for the next weekend. George had convinced Madam Rosmerta to let them have the whole building for the evening for the gig if they promised to bring in the people. Which would not be a problem. Students were itching to see the band of siblings play. But this meant high stakes for the Weasleys. A real gig, paying them real money, to play real music. All they had ever done before was fuck around and play random music that they thought was funny. But this? This was all very new and very different than what they were used to.

With a few strikes of his drumsticks, George yelled out, “A 1, 2, 3, 4!” And the band swelled with music, George keeping rhythm on the drum kit, Fred wailing on his guitar, Ron strumming on the bass, and Ginny belting into the mic.

“She’s a Killer Queen, gunpowder, gelatine, Dynamite with a laser beam. Guaranteed to blow your mind; anytime...” Ginny belted into the mic, her alto voice resonating throughout the room of requirement as Ron and Fred stared at each other, wondering when they would get a break. Fred looked concerned at Ginny who's voice was obviously getting tired from belting for an hour and a half with no water or bathroom break.

Fred drops his guitar and speaks, “Hold on, hold on!” The band fades slowly before George throws up his hands in protest, asking why they stopped. “Do you not hear Ginny’s voice? She’s tired. We’re all tired, Georgie. We’ve been working non-stop for next week’s gig. I don’t think a ten minute break is gonna kill us,” he protests.

George rolls his eyes, “None of you are taking this seriously. We are getting paid for this. People are coming to watch us. Don’t you wanna be decent?” George rises from his seat, searching the eyes of his siblings for some agreement. 

Instead, he’s met with concerned eyes and tired expressions. Ginny looked absolutely exhausted, Fred looked exasperated, and Ron was flat out fed up. But all were equally concerned as to why their brother was so gassed up over this gig. George sighs, “I-” Fred gives him a sympathetic smile. “Of course, we wanna be good, Georgie. But we need to balance things out. Let’s all take a break for a while. Reconvene tonight after some much needed rest and we’ll talk details of rehearsals then. Good?”

Ron eagerly nods his head before slipping the bass off from around his body. Ginny turns off the mic and starts out with Ron, talks of what was for dinner in the Great Hall. Fred approaches his twin and places a hand on his shoulder. “What’s bugging you?” he asks, knowing that this behavior wasn’t typical for George. It wasn’t like George to get serious all of a sudden and push everyone to work without a break. Something was up and Fred could read it all over his brother’s face. 

Defeated, George sighs. “I don’t know, Fred. I guess I’m getting myself all worked up because I invited Angelina to the show and I wanted to ask to be my girlfriend and I guess I just want things to be perfect for her in a way.” Fred gives his brother a knowing look, wiggling his eyebrows. “Oh, shut it, you dickhead,” George laughs, pushing his brother’s shoulder. “You’d do the same if you fancied someone,” he teases Fred as his twin shrugs. “Freddie...you don’t mean to tell me no girl has walked up to you and has told you how hot it was that you played lead guitar in Hogwarts’ premiere band?” he teases.

Fred laughs, “Can’t say anyone has...yet.”

This makes George laugh and shake his brother’s shoulders. “That’s the spirit,” George slings his arm over Fred’s shoulder. The two twins carry back their band equipment as they make their way to the Gryffindor common room. “Seriously, Freddie, I bet I can set you up with one of Angie’s friends. I’ll tell Angie to bring her to the show and she can see just how sexy you look fingering those strings,” George alludes as Fred chuckles. 

“Nah, mate, I don’t wanna just have a set up of a date. I want to naturally meet a girl, you know?” Fred tells his twin as George rolls his eyes. Fred was always a hopeless romantic deep down. Although he had some flings in the past and had his fun with shagging a few girls casually here and there, Fred was looking for something more serious now. Someone he could connect with. “I’m not expecting for the perfect girl to be right around the corner, Georgie, but I’m not expecting her to be a-”

Fred stops mid sentence as he feels his body collide with another body as they walk around the corner of the hallway, making Fred and the person he had bumped into stumble back a bit. “Godric, I’m so sorry, I wasn’t pay attention to where I was going,” Fred looks around at the sheet music that was now cast about the floor. “Did I make you drop anything?” Fred asks, now looking up at a pair of eyes that made his heart skip a beat.

There you stood, a little flustered, in a hurry on your way to the library. You were late for a study group with some of your friends from your Charms class and it would be your third time late this week. If you were late again, they would surely give you shit for it. But as you took in who was causing you to run late, you suddenly didn’t mind. “Uh,” you gulp, “I’m alright, don’t worry. I should have watched where I was going. Now I’ve made quite the mess, haven’t I?” you lightly laugh as you crouch down to help him pick up the miscellaneous pieces of sheet music.

Fred joins you on the floor, picking up the scattered sheets. “It’s equally our mess,” Fred gives you a soft smile as you blush lightly. 

Fred looks up at George who wiggles his brows as if to say Oh La-La! before he winks at his brother. “Oh, hey (Y/N),” George speaks before continuing to walk down the hallway, giving his dear twin some privacy. Fred shoot his brother a look to say, Mate, what the fuck? 

“Hey, Georgie,” you laugh. The two of you continue to pick up the pieces of parchment as you inspect the scribbling on them to be the treble clef. “You’re a musician?” you ask him, referring to the sheets. Fred nods. “What instrument?”

“Guitar,” Fred beams as you widen your eyes and nod. “I’m actually in a band with George and my other siblings,” he tells you. “I didn’t know you were friends with George.”

You hand him a small pile of sheet music before you both rise to your feet. “Yeah, George and I have been friends for a little while. I helped tutor him in Divinations class,” you tell Fred who nods. Fred mentally yells that he wishes George would have told him that he was friends with an absolute stunner of a girl. “I didn’t know that you and George were in a band. That’s really cool,” you tell Fred with a smile.

As you stand before Fred Weasley, you hope he doesn’t know how flustered you were. You had always seen him in the halls with George and admired how charming and handsome he was from a far, but never said anything to him. You could have easily told George that you had a thing for his twin, but you were far too nervous to act on your little crush. You clutched your textbooks closer to your chest as Fred fixed the strap of his guitar on his chest, muscles flexing underneath his shirt as your eyes darting to watch them tug against the thin shirt material. 

Fred spoke, “We started the band a couple of months ago. So it’s a pretty recent development.”

You nod your head and awkwardly stand before him before realizing that you were just staring at Fred’s face, admiring how his lips curled into a little smirk when he looked at you. Clearing your throat, you breathe, “Wicked.” Fred chuckles. “I’ve always been fascinated by musicians. I wanted to teach myself how to play guitar, but I’ve never gotten around to it,” you word vomit, instantly regretting the words coming out of your mouth. Damn it, (Y/N), you might as well just tell him your life story, you think to yourself. 

With a cheeky smile, you watch Fred’s face light up. “I could teach you,” he suggest as your eyes widen. Fred immediately back pedals. “If you want! I mean, Godric knows that you are probably very busy, but if you ever wanted an instructor, I wouldn’t mind giving you lessons,” he retorts as you can’t help but have a lazy smile appear on your lips. Fred’s heart skips another beat as he gulps. “That’s only if you’d like me to teach you, (Y/N).”

The way he spoke your name made your stomach erupt with butterflies. His voice was like honey as words parted from his lips, the sweetest sounds you have ever heard. You watched his eyes as they looked into yours, monitoring how you reacted to his proposal. 

Guitar lessons with Fred Weasley? You would have to be mental if you said no. With a meek smile and you reply, “You really don’t have to, Fred.”

“I want to,” he jumps before clearing his throat, realizing how quickly he answered, making you giggle as Fred blushes a deep red that matched his hair. “I would like to teach you, (Y/N).”

With a nod, you say, “I’d like you to teach me.” 

Fred smiles widely. “Wicked,” he breathes out as you look away from his gaze to hide your rosy cheeks. “Just one catch,” he smirks as you furrow your brows. “You have to come to our show next week. At Three Broomsticks. And bring friends.”

Extending your hand, you tease him, “You’ve got a deal.” Fred shakes your hand firmly as you laugh. “I’ll see you around, Fred.”

You start down the opposite direction before Fred calls out. “First lesson is on Thursday! 4pm sharp,” Fred says as you flip around to look at him. “Tardiness is not tolerated,” he winks at you as you roll your eyes before walking away to the library.

As you walked down the corridors, you could help but smile to yourself. Your cheeks tingled from your large grin as you toyed with the edges of your books. The thought of Fred Weasley’s hands guiding yours as he taught you how to play guitar made your heart giddy. You nibbled on your bottom lip at the thought that danced around your head. Suddenly, you didn’t care how late you were to this study group.

----------------

Thursday rolled around slowly, but surely and Fred was checking himself out in the mirror, combing his fingers through his red hair, brushing the pieces out of his face. He nervously looked at himself in the mirror. Should he have shaved? Was he wearing too much cologne? Should he brush his teeth for a third time?

He frantically ran around his dormitory room, thinking he should change his shirt again. Maybe you liked the color green better than blue. As if the color of his shirt would determine the outcome of this lesson/date. Fred didn’t even know if he could count this as a date. 

George tapped out rhythms on his bed frame, watching Fred change his shirt for the fourth time as he shook his head. “Freddie, mate, are you really sweating that much?” he laughed.

Fred shot his twin a dirty look. “No,” he spat. “I just...I like the green better than the blue,” he lied, pulling the green shirt over his head and down his torso. Fred darted to his bed and grabbed his guitar and checked the time on his watch. He had ten minutes. “Good Godric,” he huffed.

“You alright? Haven’t seen you this shaken up since the time you thought you ate puking pastilles before your O.W.L.s,” George laughed as he tapped away on his bed frame. 

Fred nervously tapped on his thighs, “I’m fine, George. I, uh, I’m giving (Y/N) a guitar lesson today,” he reveals to his twin who's eyes widen and chuckles, “It’s just a lesson. Nothing else. But I’m bloody nervous about it.”

Sitting up, George speaks, “You got nothing to worry about, mate.” He walks over to Fred and places reassuring hands on Fred’s shoulders. “(Y/N)s a great girl. She’s sweet and funny and proper fit,” George raises his brows as Fred groans. “I’m teasing you, Freddie, calm down. You’ve got nothing to lose. Now get down there and make her swoon.”

Fred was never nervous for dates or flirting with girls. All of that stuff came naturally to him. But for some reason the thought of you was enough to make his stomach do somersaults. The palms of his hands got sweaty when your name was spoken. There was something about you that made Fred Weasley lose his senses and that was hard to do. 

Shaking it off, Fred huffs and leaves the dormitory making his way down to the common room. With each step he descended, his heart beat harder and faster against his rib cage. As he came down the stairs, your figure came into view which only made Fred’s mouth dry with anxiousness and excitement. He took a deep breath in and exhaled in attempt to calm himself down. I got this, she’s just a girl, he thought to himself. “4:00 on the dot,” Fred speaks, getting your attention, causing you to turn around to face him with a smile on your lips. “Very punctual, (Y/L/N).”

You take a good look at Fred and think about how effortlessly good he looked. Hunter green t-shirt hung on his tall frame perfectly as he walked over to where you sat on the couch, acoustic guitar in his hands. “Not to toot my own horn, but I was here at 3:55, Weasley,” you joke as he smiles. “Early is on time and on time is late.”

Fred chuckles, “In that case, pardon me for my tardiness. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive someone as foolish as me.”

His smile made your heart flutter and you couldn’t help but smile back at him. His joy was infectious. How could someone be so addictive? “Hmmm,” you pretend to think, “You’re lucky I’m such a kind and forgiving person.”

Fred places a hand over his heart and feigns relief. “Thank Merlin,” he fans himself as you chuckle. “Alright. You ready to get started?” he asks as you nod your head. “Brilliant, let’s start with the basics...”

After an hour of trial and error, you had managed to learned some chord progressions and strumming techniques from Fred. You had to give it to him; he was a great teacher. He was patient and smart and knowledgable. Not to mention, you loved listening to him talk about music and how passionate he was about playing. When he talked, he spoke with so much heart and life, it made you gently smile as you watched how animated he became. Fred Weasley really was one of a kind. 

You were nearing the end of your lesson as Fred showed you how to play an F chord on the guitar. “Best chord,” he spoke as you looked at him quizzically. “F is for Fred, keep up (Y/N),” he teases making you scoff. 

He explained the finger placements as you struggled to get it just right. “Wait, my second finger goes where?” you ask again as Fred points to the third string. You adjust and strum as an off-key chord resonates. “Now, that can’t be right,” you laugh as Fred shakes his head.

Fred gets up and moves from the chair in front of you to the seat next to you on the couch. He looks at you and asks, “May I?” He gestures to placing his hand on yours as you shake your head.

Gently, Fred places his hand on yours that holds the neck of the guitar as the other hand rests on your other elbow. Having his body is such close proximity to yours made your breath hitch in your throat as you felt his chest press against your back. Fred’s fingers adjust your placement carefully as if you were made of glass, trying his hardest not to make you break into a thousand bits. “This finger goes on the third string and this one stays on the second,” he lowly instructs. “And now, strum,” he speaks, a smile in his voice.

And so you do, a soft F chord playing as the strings underneath your fingertips hum sweetly. You two let the sound ring a little bit, either one of you not daring to breathe, scared to say or do anything. Just the position that you were in, his hands on yours, his chin resting near your shoulder, your back pressed against his chest. You gulped and exhaled softly. “Pretty,” you smiled.

Fred chuckled softly. “Yes, you are,” he spoke making your heart stop, wondering if he had just spoken those words. 

You turn to face him, a questioning look in your eyes as Fred allows a small smirk to dance on his lips. Cheeky bastard, you think to yourself as you smile at him. 

The two of you remain in this position, looking into each other’s eyes for a moment. Fred’s eyes were a rich brown, like pools of chocolate melting under the summer sun. His eyes were full of playfulness and cheer which made joy course through your veins. Fred Weasley was special. 

You didn’t even realize that he was leaning in until his forehead was pressed against yours and you connected the gap between you two, connecting your lips in a gentle kiss. As you kissed, he inhaled deeply, cupping your cheek with his hand, bringing you closer to him. His hands were calloused from the guitar strings as they pressed against your soft cheek. You pressed your lips onto his harder as Fred smiled gently into the kiss, enjoying every moment. You were first to pull away, but it didn’t last long, Fred’s lips following yours for another kiss as you giggled lightly. His lips were soft and tasted of sweet cinnamon and you wanted more, like your own drug. 

Fred gently pulled away before speaking, “I have a confession.” You hum in response. “I was planning on kissing you this whole time. I was just trying to find a good excuse to sit next to you,” he confessed.

You smiled involuntarily and laughed. “I believe that,” you speak before placing another kiss to his lips quickly. “I also have a confession,” you bite your lip as Fred looks at you confused. 

Scooting back a little, you cradle the guitar in your grasp before skillfully strumming a combination of chords that could be recognized as the beginning chords of I’m Looking Through You by The Beatles. Fred’s mouth goes agape and eyes wide as you play better than he could ever. “I lied about not knowing how to play the guitar,” you laughed. “I’ve known how to play since I was ten. I just wanted an excuse to see you again.”

Fred shakes his head in disbelief. “You sneak!” he exclaims. “A woman after my own heart,” he jokes as you laugh before he kisses your cheek. “Well, I guess you don’t need anymore lesson from a git like me. But I still think you should hold up your end of the deal,” he squeezes your hand.

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world, Weasley,” you smile. “Although, I will be coyly judging your skills from the audience.”

Fred laughs, “I’m sure you will be, darling.”

----------------

After days of rehearsing and planning and scheduling and rehearsing some more, the gig at the Three Broomsticks rolled around. Ginny had managed to convinced the entirety of the Hogwarts quidditch league to come out which already filled the Three Broomsticks at half capacity. But getting more people to come wasn’t a problem. The promise of good music and Butterbeer was enough to have swarms of students flow into the small building. 

The Three Broomsticks was soon teeming with people, chatting and drinking and laughing. The energy was high and the Weasleys could feel it from their make shift backstage (which was quite literally a curtain that Ron managed to pin up). 

However, this meant that expectations were high which in turn made the band exceptionally nervous. Ginny nervously danced around, doing lip trills to warm up her voice as Ron tuned the bass. George sat at his drumming seat and ran over rhythms in his head, Fred pacing back and forth, biting on his nails.

You shuffled through the audience and found Harry and Hermione sitting at a table in the front as you approached them. You could hear Hermione gush about how hard Ron has been practicing for the gig, a rosy hue forming on her cheeks as Harry poked at her crush. As you approach, Hermione notices you and beams, “(Y/N)! Hi! Are you excited for the concert? You know Ron is playing bass?”

Harry rolls his eyes, “Did you know Hermione has a big, fat cru-”

“Shut it, Harry,” Hermione quickly snaps as you laugh. “Anyway, what’s up?”

You smile, “Do you know if Fred is with the others still? I know he was nervous about tonight and I just wanna make sure he’s doing alright.”

Harry looks at Hermione and then back at you. “Yeah, he’s back with the others,” he says as you nod, leaving. But before you can leave, Harry stops you, “Wait, hold on, I didn’t know that you and Fred were....” he looks for the words.

“We’re not officially together, but we’ve been seeing each other,” you confess with a smile. Hermione gives you a teasing glance as she sips on her Butterbeer and Harry nudges her with an ooh. “Oh please. You think you two are slick? Everyone knows Harry fancies Ginny and Hermione is practically head over heels for Ronald,” you teases as they both wear bright red cheeks. “Mhm, that’s what I thought,” you laugh. “I’ll see you both in a minute.” You make your way to the back of the Three Broomsticks, behind the curtain to find a nervous band of siblings. Ginny catches your glances first and a smirk comes onto her lips. “Oh, Freddie,” she sing songs. “You have a guest.”

Fred turns around to face you and relief washes over his face as your heart skips a beat. Fred looked good sporting dark wash jeans and a black henley. Simple, but Godric, it was enough to make you swoon. Fred grabbed your hand and walked you over to the corner for a little more privacy. “I’m glad to see your face,” he spoke before bending down to press a sweet kiss to your lips.

“I told you I wouldn’t miss it,” you squeeze his hand. “How are you feeling?”

He shrugs and gives you an awkward smile as you blurt out a laugh. “I don’t know,” he joins in. “Nervous? Excited? Weird? All three?” 

You reach up and brush his hair out of his face as he relaxes under your touch. Just the simple gesture was enough to calm him down instantly. “It’s alright to feel like that. You are gonna be bloody brilliant. All of you,” you tell him sincerely. “You’ve been working so hard and you are all so talented. You’re gonna knock the audience’s socks off. I have no doubt in my mind,” you encourage him.

Fred smiles and without another word, he pulls you in by your waist to press your lips to his. You wrap your arms around his neck as you kiss him sweetly. His lips are pressed against yours firmly, but sweetly with passion. His touch was enough to make your head reel. Fred pulls away and presses his forehead against yours, “I’m playing for you tonight. And only you.”

Your heart skips a beat as you smile, staring into his eyes with so much adoration. It had only been a week and a half since you had started seeing each other, but you couldn’t help but have the overwhelming feeling that Fred was the one for you. He was everything you could ever ask for. Charming, kind, handsome, funny, witty. Fred Weasley was it. 

“And I’ll be cheering you on the whole time,” you tell him, extending your pinky finger to him as he loops his with yours. The two of you press kisses to your thumbs, making it a pinky promise. “Now, go get ‘em, tiger,” you encourage him. As you walk away, Fred taps you bum playfully as you scurry away, back into the audience with Harry and Hermione. 

The three of you buzz about the band and the atmosphere, sipping on Butterbeer before suddenly the audience starts wildly cheering. You turn your attention to the make-shift stage and see the Weasleys all enter. You immediately start clapping and cheering for the band as Ginny speaks into the mic. “Hello, Hogsmeade!” she laughs as the crowd cheers louder. “We are the Burrow Bangers and tonight we’ve got quite the show for you all!” she exclaims as the audience claps and shouts out. You look over at Harry and a wide grin is plastered on his face. “So, without further ado...”

“1, 2, 3, 4!” George bangs on his drumsticks before 80s rock blares through the small inn, the crowd immediately cheering and dancing the sound of the music.

And you had to admit it. They were damn good. They were all in synch with each other and blended so well together. The Weasleys were performers no matter how much they may hate it admit it. Not to mention, Fred looked hot wailing away on his cherry red electric guitar. His fingers skillfully strummed out chords and he musically added riffs when needed which made the crowd roar. 

You were overwhelmed with pride at the boy you had taken such a keen liking to you and it was palpable. Fred would catch your eyes every now and then and drop his left eye into a wink, making you blush and cheer louder for him.

Tonight, and every night following, he played for you and you only.

[softkuna]

Sukuna || Concert || Fic

Part 2 (oc) Part 2 (reader)

Content   ║  Sukuna x Reader 

His vocals held that pompous cockiness he was renowned for. It dripped down with the sweat along his neck and chest. His bandmates followed yet were lost in their own worlds. They let the instruments take control of them. You would never admit that you liked the music, either. It was that 90’s punk-grunge Christian parents thought lead to devil worship. The screams weren’t for the devil, no. They worshipped The King of Curses. Now you understood why.

Count      ║ 1,664 words.

Consider ║ Cursing. Sukuna being kind of being a dick. Female reader. Grammar issues most likely ^^”

Creator   ║ So uh���. I saw a photo of Rockstar Sukuna and this happened. Enjoy my self indulgence. Also… Song for Reference.

Ryoumen Sukuna positioned himself on stage. The sea of people were glued to every motion he made. You were one of those people in the front. Dead center. Your editor paid a lot of money for that spot, too, but you still wanted nothing to do with it. Sure, you needed a big story to get out of that damn plateau but this was not what you had in mind. You focused on fashion, not punk boys with eyeliner.

  His face turned to the stage, knees rocking his body to the beginning of a simple, yet effective beat. Broad, muscled shoulder curled forward, securing his zone. But then the guitar came in. A near feral grin ricocheted onto his features as it did. In an explosive leap, his feet left the ground only for the scuffed Doc Martens to slam into the stage at the second beat. Right hand whipped the mic’s wire out of his way, left arm jostled as he started to sing.

  Bitches love me 'cause they know that I can rock

Bitches love me 'cause they know that I can rhyme

Bitches love me 'cause they know that I can fuck

  Docs crashed with every step, their synchronicity with the band behind. One hand kept on the mic, the other whipped its wire out of his way. It wasn’t that he was energetic, no. He was captivating, calculated in every step, yet casual. His control over his body and the crowd… immaculate. It was a precarious balancing act that he pulled off with little to no effort at all. Steps were to the beat, his entire torso being thrown into the movements.

  He wore a white tank top with a breast pocket. The branding of it was recognizable simply by the pristine floral embroidery along the bottom and hems. It hung past the hem of black leather pants. A custom-made silver necklace beat against his chest with each toss of his built physique. You snapped a photo.

  His prowess was obvious, even for someone like yourself who knew not a single lick of rock culture. Even with the vulgar and energetic lyrics, the whirling stop-start slow-fast tempo, Sukuna perfected the music as though he were at one with it. Embodied and embraced it. The sharp smile he threw to the collage of faces before him was the only thing you needed to know that he was in his element.

  His vocals held that pompous cockiness he was renowned for. It dripped down with the sweat along his neck and chest. His bandmates followed yet were lost in their own worlds. They let the instruments take control of them. You would never admit that you liked the music, either. It was that 90’s punk-grunge Christian parents thought lead to devil worship. The screams weren’t for the devil, no. They worshipped The King of Curses. Now you understood why.

The song was strong, heady even. It buzzed throughout your mind and swung at your heart like a right hook. Each punch of the drums was exhilarating. Every kick of the bass left you wanting more. As alive as Sukuna was on stage, you were there feeling it with him.

  The concert went on, moving through each piece like a surging smooth river. It was hard to tell when one song began and the other ended. Whenever you could, you’d snap a photo. There were some good shots in there. Some of his imposing form dangling at the edge of the stage, arms wide out displaying his designer bracelets. Others when he’d toss his entire spine back. The best, though, were when he’d come face to face with the guitarist, his brother, in a beck and call. In their wardrobe, they were a delicate balance of blacks, whites, and coral.

  A certain thrill came about you as you realized the wardrobe of each member reflected their position. They weren’t to outshine him, but they all had a theme. Everything must have been custom ordered and hand tailored. Their entire image was just as important to the show as music. Every photo was set up to illustrated the complementing lights and darks they had set up on stage, a living and breathing portrait of youth.

  You couldn’t help but notice how every time you’d point the camera at him, he’d lock those brilliant eyes onto yours. He recognized you before. How could he not? Out of everyone in the front row, you were the only one wearing some preppy knit dress. He never would have expected to see a face like yours in his crowd. Some rising reporter with a side blog. He never cared about press, but you’ve been making a name for yourself due to your precise analysis of social culture and clothes. He actually thought your last article on street fashion was interesting and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t gawk at your Instagram after. All in all, he kept his glances for your camera instead.

  The stage lighting shifted, illuminating the beads of sweat sparkling along his tatted skin like diamonds. The unnatural redness in his eyes blew an intense gaze across the still crowd. They came to a complete stop. Unease settled into your stomach. This was your cue to go. You knew what would happen next and you weren’t ready for when it did.

  His foot tapped. The guitar started. A mosh pit rioted.

  It was a concert tradition according to the fan page you looked at moments before walking through the door. ‘If you don’t leave with a black eye, did you even go to a Two Faced concert?’ they’d ask.

  Your frame was shoved against the rail, knocking the wind out of you. Bodies collided behind and you felt trapped. Your lungs squeezed and your hands scrambled for your bag. Inhaler. Inhaler. Tightness inflamed your chest as a particularly bulky man squeezed you into the rail. Your hands clasped to inhaler, but before you could press it to your lips, another body collided into you. It clattered a few feet over the rail, hitting the stage. Fuck.

  From the corner of his eyes, he saw it happen. Panic painted across your face as you hauled your torso over the rail. Your arm reached for what was dropped before it immediately covered a coughing fit. What idiot would come to his concert an, his domain, and expect to just come out unscathed? It was your own damn fault if you got the wind knocked out of you, but he had to give you credit for trying. Just as he was about to look away, someone grabbed the back collar of your dress.

  Sukuna wasn’t one of those artists who genuinely cared about their fanbase or paparazzi. That was for the other members to do. It was well known, too. He didn’t indulge in pictures if he didn’t want to or wasn’t on stage. He didn’t sign anything without a check. No one knew music like he did. No one performed like he did. No one mattered like he did. Whatever it was that overtook him then, he wasn’t sure, but he dropped the mic. A sharp blare washed over the P.E. system. All eyes turned to him. Bandmates faltered for only a moment.

  Two steps back. Sprint. The tips of his shoes left the edge of the stage. Ryoumen Sukuna took flight. Arm reached for him, stopping his prized body from colliding with the harsh concrete below. The hand on you left, desperate to make contact with The King of Curses. The band went on, the crowd’s scream piercing the air as they swayed the singers body this way and that. You clambered over to grab the inhaler, took a hit, and dove for an exit.

  That’s how you found yourself where you were now, in a backstage hallway, staring directly into the fierce gaze of the lead singer. He smelled of sweat and cedar. A brow rose, hands stuffed into unimaginably tight pockets. Confidence wasn’t lost through Sukuna’s stature; shoulders back, weight slightly on one leg more than the other. What was lost, however, was the excitement. In fact, you felt like studied specimen, eyes scanning your limbs and stopping on your ribs. The bruise forming under your dress seemed to flare in response. His tongue clicked disapprovingly.

  “What do you want? You’re not some rabid fan.” His voice was smooth as a sip of whiskey. He already knew the answer. For a moment you wondered why he didn’t just call for guards. He wondered the same thing. Just as he wondered why he leapt off the stage. Not that he regretted the act seeing as it got him trending for the umpteenth time.

  Sukuna had become accustomed to certain responses. Some offered him their bodies in exchange for a few moments of his time. Shit like that was beneath him. If he wanted a quick fuck and a column, he’d find it himself. His free time was his and that was non-negotiable. So, he almost always cut them down to size. It didn’t matter to him if he made them cry or threatened their careers, he’d always say no. Pictures? No. Signature? No. Coffee? Get the fuck out of his face. Attention and fame may have been his drug of choice, but desperation and disrespect were one in the same and you do not disrespect the King.

  “No. I didn’t even know who you were until 12 hours ago,” you admitted with a shallow breath. You stroked his ego like velvet rubbed the wrong way. He opened his mouth, ready to toss you out then and there. The look in your eyes was enough to shut him up. Hunger. And he was your dish of opportunity. “However, I do want an interview, maybe even film you for an expose,” Your hand reached for his.

  His mouth pulled into a beautiful predatory grin. This one had ambition.

  “I’ll allow it.”

[kissinginkitchens]

You Bring Me Home—Chapter Eleven: Water Under the Bridge (Finale)

a/n: welcome back my loves <3 It’s so weird to think that this is the final chapter of YBMH and I’m definitely having a lot of feelings about it (denial, mostly). I want to say a huge thank you from the very bottom of my heart for sticking with this story and these characters that I love so much. I’ve had the most fun over the past few months talking to some of you and hearing your thoughts; I cherish it more than you’ll ever know. With all of that said, I’m going to miss this era so so much but I would still love to hear from you lovelies, so please feel free to drop by my inbox and let me know what you thought of this series!! Feedback, criticism, all of it is welcome :) Much love, Mel <3

Pairing: Hawai’i!Harry x Original Character (Halani <3)

Warnings: swearing, angst

Word Count: 6.7k

catch up on parts one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, and ten

January, 2018

A strand of hair tickles Harry’s nose and his eyes flutter open. The faint sound of car horns and traffic outside reminds him of his location when his memory fails. He gently slips out of the bed and tiptoes over to the window, careful not to wake the girl sleeping soundly next to him. A thick layer of snow blankets every building and surface in New York City as far as the eye can see, and the grey sky above signals another storm on its way. 

I’m going to die of hypothermia, Alani shivers, nursing her steaming cup of tea as she walks away from the office window and takes a seat behind her desk. Even after living in the city for a year, she still hadn’t adjusted to the cold weather and feared that she never would. Her boyfriend had joked on numerous occasions that you can take the girl out of the island, but you can’t take the island out of the girl. 

“Vanessa’s on line three,” her assistant calls from the doorway. 

“Thanks,” Alani nods before bringing the phone to her ear. “So, what did you think?”

“It was brilliant,” the editor admits. “Insightful, witty. I think they’ll love it,”

Alani smiles and spins in her seat to face the window again. “St. James has been on my ass about this piece for weeks. I hope it’ll shut him up,”

“It will, trust me. Hey, I gotta go, but I sent the revision notes and we can discuss more later,”

“Great, thank you so much. See you at dinner,”

“Ta-ta.”

Alani reaches for a pen and scribbles a reminder onto a pink post-it note nearby. 

Bloody five-star hotel, you’d think they could afford decent pens.  Harry grumbles to himself, shaking the ballpoint to no avail. 

“Where are you going?”

Harry freezes in his tracks and turns to the brunette stretching out her tired limbs. He has to clear his throat to keep from saying the wrong name. 

“Just a quick walk,” he explains with a tight lipped smile. “Go back to bed.” 

She flashes a wide grin and snuggles back into the covers, but he secretly hopes that she’s gone by the time he returns. 

The snow crunches under Harry’s feet and he digs his hands deeper into the pockets of his coat. He had never been very fond of the cold, but he did have to admit that Central Park looked unbelievably beautiful in the winter. His phone buzzes inside his pocket and he digs it out to read the message. 

Mitch: Me and Sarah are going to Bisous in ten. Meet us?

Harry: See you there. 

********

“French is such a pretentious language,” Maleah scoffs, taking a bite of her pastry. “But I’ll be damned if I have to give up my chocolate croissants,”

Alani chuckles lightly and traces the restaurant’s logo of a red kiss printed on her napkin. Going to Bisous at least once a day had become a tradition during her best friend’s visits. 

“I’ll have to smuggle a real one back for you and then you can tell me if this one’s the real deal,”

“When are you going, again?”

“Next month,”  

Maleah wiggles her brows. “Oooh, Valentine’s Day? Are you taking Mason with you?”

“No,” Alani says casually. “It’s for work,”

“Well, who says you can’t mix business and pleasure?”

“Literally everyone.”

“Okay,” Maleah sighs, patting her full stomach. “Let’s go now before I get sleepy.”

The two friends make their way out of the busy restaurant and Alani’s shoulder brushes someone next to her. 

“Sorry.” she apologizes, making brief eye contact with the other person before doing a double take. 

Mitch purses his lips and turns his head back to the other girl at his arm while Maleah drags Alani out the door. 

********

“I mean, what the hell was that? I could barely keep my drum kit together,” Sarah laughs gently, sipping her coffee. 

“Cause of death: rocking too fucking hard,” Mitch shrugs. “There are worse ways to die,”

Harry stirs his black coffee with a spoon and watches the mini whirlpool grow. “Rob said you could feel it in the balcony, too,”

“I’m surprised you didn’t die,” Mitch pokes. “Mr. defective lungs,”

“Heyyy, I can’t help the asthma thing, alright?”

“Well it’s the last night,” Sarah chimes in. “Are we gonna try to beat the Kiwi record and go for four times in a row?”

Harry shrugs, a soft grin on his lips. “Dunno. Maybe if it feels right,”

“I say we cut out the middleman and just bulldoze MSG ourselves. What difference does it make if the fans tear the house down or if we do?” Mitch suggests. 

“Oh yeah,” Harry nods. “I’m sure Irving would love that.”

“Some food for thought.”

The trio finish their breakfasts and excitedly continue their conversations about the impending show, but the entire time, Mitch is haunted by the knowledge of Alani’s presence in the city. He debates telling Harry, but is suddenly reminded of the intense aftermath of the pair’s falling out. 

********

“Where’s Alani?”

“Don’t fuckin’ say that name to me ever again.” 

Mitch’s brow furrowed. “What’s going on?”

And with a simple question, anger had subsided into grief. Mitch still didn’t  know all of the details surrounding their split, but he had pieced together sufficient bits from Jeff and, in part, from the lyrics Harry penned in the following weeks. The slump had lasted through the fall and winter of that year, but as spring rolled around and the album’s release drew closer, Harry pulled himself together enough to promote and tour. It felt good to be on the road, and he found himself revitalized by the energy of those who came to support. Tour itself had been relatively intimate, as he had actively decided to play smaller venues than the sold out stadiums he was accustomed to, but the enthusiasm of the crowds hadn’t changed from his band days. As Harry occupied his attention with music, Hawaii grew smaller and smaller in the back of his mind. Eventually, it dwindled into a dull ache at the center of his chest, felt only on particularly long nights coaxed with a little bit of alcohol in his bloodstream. For now, he tried to focus on his last show at Madison Square Garden. 

********

Alani’s stomach turns. Had she really seen Mitch or had it been a remarkable doppelgänger? She hoped it was the latter, knowing that if he really was in New York City, Harry wasn’t far behind. This was by no means the first time she had been reminded of her summer love turned sour, but it stung just as much every time. The first incident was last April when she turned on the T.V. only to find Harry performing one of his new songs on Saturday Night Live. It had resulted in the loss of her favorite mug as it shattered against the hardwood floor in her apartment. Since that day, Alani had seen his face on countless billboards in Times Square and habitually asked taxi drivers to change the radio station or turn it off entirely. After a while, she had gotten better at dealing with the sinking feeling whenever he was mentioned, it was easier to detach feelings for someone who lived on a screen. Running into Mitch, however, had blasted a hole straight through the fourth wall that Alani had erected,  and she knew that there was absolutely no way she could cope with a similar encounter from Harry. 

“Oh shit,” Maleah gasps softly, looking through the windshield at the hundreds of people lined up on the pavement outside of Madison Square Garden. 

“What?” Alani asks, head still spinning. 

Her best friend immediately turns to her with a nervous smile and shrugs. “Oh it’s nothing. Hey do I have something in my teeth?”

Alani glances out the window behind Maleah and her eyes bulge. “Woah, what’s happening there?”

“Oh it’s probably, like, Lady Gaga or something. Anyways, look at this random text I got the other day.”

But it wasn’t “Lady Gaga or something.” The marquee reads “Harry Styles—SOLD OUT” in bold lettering. Alani retches into her bag. 

********

“Oh, for fucks saaake!” Harry shouts playfully, the sound of his obscenities echoing throughout the large venue. 

Mitch and Adam chuckle beside him and continue setting up their equipment while Sarah offers a comedic “badum-tss” on her drum set. 

“Okay then at that point, stage lights will come down and it’s ‘Meet Me in the Hallway’,” the technical director speaks into his earpiece.

Harry nods and watches the screen behind him roll through the animation that will play during the song. 

“Alright, then it’s—”

“Wait,” Harry interjects over the mic. “Sorry, can we run it?”

“Run ‘Meet Me’?”

“Yeah,”

Mitch tenses listening to the conversation that filters through his own inner ear piece, but he continues fiddling with the strings of his guitar.  

“Running ‘Meet Me’,” the director affirms. “Sarah, stand by.”

Harry’s eyes dart over to Mitch and he nods as a sign to begin. The guitarist clears his throat and strums the opening chords. 

Meet me in the hallway 

“M’gonna go wait in the hall…”

Meet me in the hallway 

“Give you some space to think and then we’ll talk, yeah?”

I just left your bedroom 

“I never wanted to hurt you.”

Give me some morphine 

“I hope you got all the material you wanted.”

Is there any more to do?

“Please don’t go.”

Just let me know and I’ll be at the door, at the door

Hoping you'll come around

Just let me know I’ll be on the floor, on the floor 

Maybe we’ll work it out

********

“Maybe I shouldn’t go,” Maleah offers. “I can catch a return flight tomorrow,”

Alani sits up in her bed and shakes her head. “No, Mi, it’s okay. I’ll be fine,”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. It’s probably just a stomach bug or something,”

Maleah gives her friend a tight squeeze and pulls away to read her face. “Let me know if you need anything, I’ll come right back,”

“Thank you,” Alani says, forcing a smile. “I’m so sorry to put a damper on your last day.”

“Nah, there’s nothing to worry about. Feel better soon, Nani.”

The door closes softly and Alani burrows deeper into the covers. She tries to bury the emotion back under a lock and key, but a gentle sob fights its way up her chest. It wasn’t supposed to be this way, she cries, but maybe it was. Just as the sun rises and sets, so had Harry entered and exited her life, and maybe that’s exactly how it was meant to be. After all, Alani had gotten exactly what she wanted, hadn’t she? So why does it still hurt? 

The snow falls gently outside of her window, but the entire scene blurs into shades of white and grey behind her tears. It had snowed just like this on the day she moved to the city. Shortly after the article about Harry had been published by a small gossip site, Alani had contacted the publishers and threatened litigation if they didn’t take it down. Unsurprisingly, they had also been contacted by Columbia Records and thus, the piece was removed that same day. Despite the quick turnaround, Rolling Stone had caught wind of the storm brewing on social media and reached out to Alani a few days later. They had been impressed that the elusive Harry Styles granted her an interview, but they didn’t push the matter much further. Instead, they had offered her one piece of her choosing to prove herself. If the reviews were favorable, she would be given a regular contributor spot, unpaid of course. They would re-evaluate at the beginning of the new quarter and negotiate from there. When January of 2017 rolled around, Alani’s writing was making surprising waves in the Rolling Stone community, so she had been hired on as a junior writer and assistant to the Editor in Chief. The pay wasn’t great, but it was a leap in the right direction. 

Despite everything that had changed in a year, a string of random letters on a building that Alani passed a million times had brought her emotions right back to the day she had tried so hard to forget. Her phone buzzes under the covers and she reaches out a hand to locate it. Her editor’s name appears and she answers it quickly. 

“Hello?”

“Darling, hello! Where are you?”

“Oh my god,” Alani groans. “Vanessa I’m so sorry,”

“Is everything okay?”

Alani sits up and clears her throat. “I have food poisoning,”

“Christ, from where?”

“Bisous,”

Vanessa sighs. “Poor thing. Okay, no worries we’ll just reschedule,”

“I’m so sorry, I’ll make it up to you,”

“No need to be sorry, get some rest and we’ll catch up later!”

The call ends and Alani gawks at the time. 7:30 already?  She slumps back under the covers and sifts through her social media, wincing when she sees several of her friends posting about the line outside of Madison Square Garden. No, Alani decides sternly when the sudden urge to go stirs in the pit of her stomach, absolutely no fucking way. 

********

“10 minutes!”

Harry scans the crowd from the monitor backstage. He pinches his lower lip between his index finger and thumb as the nerves settle in. 

“The house is packed,” Jeff comments with a hand on the singer’s shoulder. “And there’s still a crowd outside,”

“We did it?”

“You did it,”

So why does it still hurt? 

“Thanks for everything,” Harry says, bringing his manager in for a hug. “Couldn’t have done it without you.”

Jeff pats Harry on the back. “All in a day’s work for the dream team.”

Before heading out, Harry stops one of the crew members and asks if any of the guests on his list have arrived yet. Names are read off, friends from different inner circles over the years, but there’s one name in particular that isn’t called. He offers a thumbs up and a forced grin before making his way to the stage.

It always surprises the technical crew at every venue that Harry has specific lighting requests for the house. Performers had their individual preferences, this wasn’t unusual, but no one made a bigger deal about being able to see the crowd like Harry did. He enjoyed being able to see each person and connect with them, especially when performing an album that was as personal as this one. But in every sea he searched, one face was always missing. Tonight’s audience, much to his disappointment, was no different. 

The crowd cheers as “Sweet Creature” fades out and the lights on stage dim. More than half of the show has already gone by and they’ve reached the point that is always a little harder to get through. Harry takes a swig from his water bottle and clears his throat to fight the lump that forms. He breathes in deeply and “Meet Me in the Hallway” begins, but no matter how hard he tries to focus on the technical aspects of his performance, it’s nearly impossible not to get dragged back into the moment when the song was written. 

“I should go back,” 

“H, I don’t know if that’s such a good—”

“I have to go back.” 

And so he had. After two hours of pacing the airport lounge, Harry had jumped into an Uber and sped back to the hotel. It had taken another agonizing twenty minutes to explain his situation to the front desk workers and retrieve his old room key, but it was no use. He was too late. The bed was still unmade, but there was no sign of Alani save for the faint scent of Baby Honey and a gold necklace tucked away between the sheets. 

The flight back to the mainland had already departed by the time Harry stumbled through the hotel lobby, and there wouldn’t be another one for three more hours. In the meantime, he decided to get some fresh air and clear his mind, hoping all the while that he would find Alani at the edge of the beach waiting to run back into his arms. She never did, and he was left with all the words he wished he had said. 

I walked the streets all day 

Running with the thieves 

‘Cause you left me in the hallway 

Just take my pain away 

Just let me know and I’ll be at the door, at the door

Hoping you'll come around

Just let me know I’ll be on the floor, on the floor 

Maybe we’ll work it out

********

“Great show,” praises Rob Sheffield, author of one of Harry’s favorite books, Love is a Mix Tape. “Drummer’s incredible,”

Sarah beams and Harry flashes her a grin. “Thanks. It’s Sarah’s band, really. I’m just the frontman,”

“Well she kicked ass. All of you did, and I can tell by the way the floor was shaking that I’m not the only one who thought so.”

“Thank you so much, that means a lot.”

More guests filter in and congratulate Harry and the rest of the band, but while he sincerely appreciates all of the love, he can’t help the way his eyes flicker to the door every once in a while in the hope that someone else will straggle in. He slowly loses that hope when the room empties and the night drags on. 

********

This isn’t ethical, Alani chastises herself, this is wrong on every level and you’re gonna pay. She runs her fingers over the Rolling Stone press badge in her hand and stares at the marquee towering over her. What the fuck are you doing? 

“Excuse me!” Alani calls when she sees an employee slip through a side door. “Hi, I know I’m really late but I’m actually here with Rolling Stone,”

The blonde-haired woman blinks and scans over the badge with an unamused look on her face. 

“Nice try,”

“No, wait,” Alani begs. “I have to get in there, please—”

“You and every other girl within a twenty-five mile radius.”

Alani takes a deep breath and re-groups. “You don’t understand. I really need to get back there, I’m working on an important piece,”

As the struggle continues, another woman in stiletto heels exits through the side door with a clipboard in tow. 

“My name is Alani Hale, see? Please just—”

“Wait,” the woman with the clipboard intervenes. The name sounded strangely familiar, probably from the blacklist, in which case security would need to be notified. “What did you say your name was?”

Alani holds her badge out and swallows hard. “Alani Hale, junior writer for Rolling Stone.”

The woman checks through the blacklist but the name isn’t registered. She does a cursory glance over the V.I.P section and her finger lands on a note that reads “Mahealani ‘Alani’ Hale—Code Carolina: escort backstage and inform Mr. Styles immediately.”

“Follow me, please,”

Alani trails behind, doing her best to keep up with the long strides of the woman with the clipboard.

 “Marta to security, I have a Code Carolina,” she murmurs into her ear piece. “Repeat, I have a Code Carolina.”

Alani’s heart races as they zig-zag through the arena. Did Harry know that she was coming? Had Mitch told him that they saw each other at Bisous? The answer was no, Mitch hadn’t told and Harry didn’t know. He had only hoped. Unbeknownst to Alani, her name was printed on the Madison Square Garden list and on every list of every show in all the countries scheduled. Through Paris and all through Rome, Harry had looked for her face in the crowd and he dreamed that one day his efforts wouldn’t be in vain. 

“Wait here,” Marta instructs, leading Alani to a back room with mirrors, a couple of couches, and a clothing rack. “Someone will be with you shortly.”

Before she can ask any questions, Marta is gone and the sound of her heels echo down the hall. Alani takes a deep breath and her lungs are immediately filled with the familiar scent of vanilla. Her eyes carefully rake over the scene and land on a familiar white shirt hanging on the rack and the words “Enjoy Health, Eat Your Honey.”

“Thief,”

“I meant to return it.”

Alani spins on her heel and Harry stands with his fists shoved deep inside the pockets of his flared pants, eyes cast down at the floor. She tugs on the sleeves of her coat and offers a shy smile. 

“It’s okay, looked better on you anyway.”

A brief silence follows and they size each other up like it’s a gunfight, each waiting to see who will draw first. His hair is longer and curlier, Alani notices, chest and shoulders broader, too. But there’s a familiarity in his creased brow and in the heart shaped curve of his cupid’s bow. Harry does his own inventory; dark, almond shaped eyes, check. Round face, cinnamon skin, check and check. Her long, wavy locks are now shoulder length, but he’d recognize the scent of Baby Honey anywhere. The two are absorbed in their own silent assessments for a moment longer, but Alani quickly gets the urge to flee after she counts too many similarities between this Harry and the one that left her with a broken heart. 

“I should go,” she croaks, taking a step back. “I shouldn’t have come—”

“Why did you?” Harry asks earnestly. 

Alani tugs at a loose thread on her sleeve before crossing her arms. “Saw your name outside and got curious. For a while there, I started to think that maybe I imagined you,”

Harry doesn’t know what to do with the knowledge that he had haunted her as much as she had plagued him. He had spent so long believing that he meant nothing to her, but nevertheless, a part of him left room for her return. 

“You did, this is a hologram projection,”

Alani smiles and her shoulders relax at his humor. It really was him. 

“Did you enjoy—”

“I didn’t see the show—” they speak at the same time, eager words overlapping. 

“Oh,” Harry laughs softly. “You didn’t miss much,”

Alani shakes her head and takes a single step forward. “No, that’s not true. I’m sure it was amazing,”

Harry offers a coy grin, the shadow of a dimple on his left cheek. One hand emerges from his pocket and his knuckle brushes against the tip of his nose. Alani catches sight of the silver rose on his finger and she still remembers how it feels under the pad of her thumb. 

“Are you hungry?” he asks softly, pulling her from her reverie. 

“What?”

“Have dinner with me?”

Alani blinks, her throat suddenly dry. “Oh. Well I don’t know, I don’t wanna interrupt—”

“Never an interruption,” Harry assures her. 

She nods and he takes a step back. 

“M’gonna go change,” he explains. “I’ll just be a minute.”

“What, you don’t wear custom Marc Jacobs suits to dinner?” She teases. 

He grins, amused, and continues backing away towards the door before correcting her. “It’s Gucci.”

Alani rolls her eyes and he disappears into the hallway. 

When Harry reemerges in a beanie, puffy coat, and light wash denim jeans, he leads them through a series of tunnels and exits. 

“Where are we going?” Alani asks, bracing herself for the snow outside. 

“It’s a surprise.” he offers and she doesn’t fight him on it.

********

“We’re not eating here?” 

A soft smile falls on Harry’s lips. He hadn’t realized just how much he missed her incessant questioning. 

“No,”  he replies, opening the passenger door with one hand and passing her the bag that contains their dinner. “Too crowded,”

“Oh,” 

It made sense that Harry would want to keep a low profile and avoid any possible paparazzi sightings of the two of them, but it still felt strange to worry about such things after they had lived so carefree in Hawai’i. But that was then, and this was now, things had inevitably changed. 

“D’you wanna play some music?” Harry asks, settling behind the wheel. The parallels between this moment and their first excursion together make her chest tighten. 

“How about,” Alani starts. “Your album? Since I didn’t get to hear it live,”

Harry’s breathing hitches. “Well, I dunno—”

“Please?”

He meets her pleading eyes momentarily and, against his better judgment, agrees. 

“What’s it called?” she questions. 

“It’s just my name,”

“Self-titled, very classy. I like it,”

“I thought about calling it Sign of the Times,” Harry reveals. “But it’s already been done before,”

Alani hums. “Prince,”

“Yeah,” he nods. “But then I also thought about going with ‘Pink,’ because, you know, when in doubt—”

“Go with the pink one,” they say in unison and Alani smiles softly. How had he remembered that?

“And it’s the only true rock ‘n roll color,” she continues. 

Harry beams. “Exactly. But then Jeff suggested that we just go with the name. Simple, but effective,”

“Okay, so now that we’ve got the background,” Alani pokes. “And you’ve sufficiently distracted me, can I listen now?”

He swallows and checks the GPS, still twenty-five minutes to go. 

“How about we hold off,” he suggests. “Just for now so we can listen to the full thing and really soak it in?”

Alani backs off. “Alright, deal.”

She presses shuffle on the playlist of her frequently played songs for the month and immediately regrets doing so. Clearing her throat, she goes to press skip but Harry stops her. 

“S’a good one.” he says gently, so Alani lets Adele fill the awkward space. 

If you’re gonna let me down 

Let me down gently don’t pretend 

That you don’t want me 

Our love ain’t water under the bridge

********

Harry opens the passenger door and Alani steps out, her eyes squinting to make out any recognizable landmarks in their surroundings. They remain a comfortable two feet apart and make their way to the entrance of what appears to be some sort of greenhouse. Alani is filled with more confusion, but she doesn’t ask further questions until they reach the white double doors. 

“What?” Harry questions. “Never been to the New York Botanical Garden?”

Alani’s eyes widen. “The—wait, you—we’re?”

“After you,” he chuckles lightly, opening the doors. 

“Are we even allowed? I mean is it open?”

“I pulled some strings,”

She enters cautiously, immediately met with an archway of blush colored flowers and string lights that takes her breath away. A long, narrow pond in the center reflects the image back and creates a kaleidoscope of pink, green, and golden hues. 

“How did you,” Alani begins, at a complete loss for words. “Who are you?”

Harry nods in the direction of an adjacent hallway. “There’s a ballroom set up for a wedding tomorrow night, but Jim said we could crash as long as we clean up after ourselves,”

“Jim?”

“The director.”

“Of course.” 

Sure enough, round tables with cream colored tablecloth and elaborate floral centerpieces are arranged around the room. A delicate, yet undoubtedly expensive, chandelier twinkles in the center of the room and casts such a warm glow that Alani momentarily forgets about the snow outside. 

“Dig in,” Harry instructs, setting the pasta on the table in front of them. 

Alani sits and gently sheds her winter coat as he does the same. Underneath his jacket, Harry wears a yellow shirt that catches her eye with the words “treat people with kindness” printed in black lettering. She freezes when she spots a gold chain with a sun and moon pendant nestled comfortably between above the words.

“How is everyone?” Alani questions politely to shift her attention. “Mitch, Tom, Jeff,”

“They’re good, yeah,” he nods. “How’re Freddie and your family?”

“They’re fine, and he’s living his blissful little life,”

“Good for him. Miss his cuddles,”

And yours, Harry thinks, but he pulls back. Alani offers a shy laugh and thinks about the elephant in the room yet to be addressed: the break-up. It’s worth discussing, but she sure as hell isn’t going to be the one to bring it up. 

“And how’ve you been?” Harry asks when the silence stretches out for too long. 

Alani chews and ponders the question. “Good. Been working a lot,”

“Where at?”

“Rolling Stone,”

“Really?” he beams. “That’s incredible, congratulations,”

“Thank you,” she replies graciously. 

Harry’s chin rests in his palm and he twirls a noodle around his fork. “So you live here?”

“Yeah, in the Village,”

“Wow. Greenwich Village, a real city-slicker now. Traded Stevie in for the Holland Tunnel?”

A bittersweet smile spreads across Alani’s lips at the memory of her beloved Bronco. “Sadly, yes. And you?”

“Malibu,” Harry divulges. “I hate the cold.”

“It’s not so bad. You can always cuddle up with the giant rats,” she jokes, which makes his nose scrunch.

“I’m just gonna pretend you didn’t say that,” 

“Speaking of pretend,” Alani wiggles her brows. “You were in a movie after all,” 

“I was,” 

“I didn’t watch it, sorry,” 

Harry feigns offense and Alani quickly back pedals. “I don’t like war movies!”

“And you hated my guts.” he teases, though it pains him that there might be some truth to his words. 

Alani shakes her head and fights the urge to reach across the table for his hand. “No, not really. It was kind of the opposite, actually.” 

Harry’s eye wanders to the outside of Alani’s wrist and a faint smile creeps across his face when he spots the black outline of a crescent moon. He wonders if there are any new inked designs that he isn’t aware of. Despite all the time that has elapsed, there is a familiarity in her presence that he hadn’t felt even in the comforts of his California residence. It was like kicking off your shoes in the doorway after a long trip. It was like coming home. 

They finish their meal and continue their light-hearted banter into the night. Harry tells his favorite stories from tour and Alani wishes more than anything that she could have been there. She details the events of her own busy life in New York and the highlights of working for Rolling Stone, one of which being the time that she got to meet Stevie Nicks in the flesh. 

“Did you tell her about your car?” Harry presses enthusiastically. 

“No way,” Alani chuckles, draining the last of her drink. “I wasn’t gonna embarrass myself in front of the Supreme,” 

“I think she would’ve found it flattering,” 

“Naming your child after someone is flattering, not a car,” 

Harry shrugs. “I think it’s cute,” 

“Yeah well,” Alani sighs. “You’re not like most people,”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

She mulls it over, studying the familiar sea glass irises that she never thought she’d see again. What had Alani meant by that statement? Truthfully, she didn’t know if she could put it into words, nor had she meant to say them in the first place. But something about Harry always made her feel brave, like she could speak her mind uncensored and he would understand without even trying. 

“I just meant that you’re, you know,” she starts. “Not judgemental. Like, I could tell you that I think I’m part alien and you’d probably try to help me find my home planet,” 

Harry laughs and leans forward with his elbows on the table, an unspoken challenge for Alani to continue her thoughts. 

“You make people feel seen and heard,” she says finally with a wistful look in her eye. “I mean, why do you think all those people lined up to see you tonight?” 

The last part of her statement is a deflection from what she really wants to say, which is that Harry makes her feel seen and heard. Despite all the time and space between them, it was still true and it terrified her. There was only so much bravery that Harry’s presence could evoke. The mood shifts suddenly when Alani’s phone buzzes and the name “Mason” with a pink heart emoji lights up the screen next to her glass of water. Harry hadn’t meant to look and he deeply regrets that he did. 

“You have a boyfriend,” he comments dejectedly, and though he hadn’t meant it to be accusatory, all words carry the sting of judgment when falling on guilty ears. 

“Oh, and I’m sure you’ve stayed celibate this entire time,” Alani bites back. 

Harry’s brow furrows. “I wasn’t—I didn’t mean—”

“I’m sorry, this was a mistake,” she apologizes, standing with her coat. 

“Wait,” he jumps up. “What just happened?”

“I have to go—”

“Just stop for a minute, please,”

Alani stops in her tracks and turns back to face Harry slowly. His jaw is tight and the crease between his eyebrows is deeper than she remembers. 

“I’m sorry,” she begins carefully. “Thank you for tonight, but I really shouldn’t be here—”

Harry’s eyes clamp shut and he runs a frustrated hand through his messy curls.  

“Can you stop acting like you’re doing me a favor by leaving and just talk to me?”

“What do you want me to say?” Alani pushes back. “‘I’m sorry that I saw your name in flashing lights and I got caught trying to spy on you’?”

“Alani—”

“‘I’m sorry that I tried to move on’?”

“Stop apologizing—”

“I’m sorry that I fell in love and fucked it all up because I was afraid and I’m sorry that I betrayed the one person who meant everything to me,”

Silence falls between them and the only sound is the sniffling of Alani’s nose as she tries, and fails, to hold back the emotions that pour over. 

“That’s why I went,” she continues, voice wavering. “Because I’m selfish and I couldn’t stay away. Every single day, I’m reminded of how royally I screwed everything up and it tears me apart, so I went to try to make things right and take some of that pain away. Even though I hurt you and there’s nothing I can ever do to change that,”

Harry swallows hard and his eyes sting, but Alani speaks up again before he can respond. 

“So please,” she begs. “Please, just let me finally do something right by you and let me go,”

He takes a cautious step forward and shakes his head. “I don’t want to,”

They both hold their breaths, anticipating the other person’s next draw. 

“And maybe that makes me selfish too,” Harry adds. “‘Cause I went back that day, back to the hotel,”

Alani blinks. “You did?”

“Yes,” he nods. “Because I wasn’t mad that you published the article, I was scared that it was the only reason you were with me—”

“Harry—”

“But then I realized that I didn’t care,” he laughs dryly. “Because I still loved you, and I figured that having you— having just a little bit of your heart and your attention—was worth it, even if you didn’t really love me back,”

He takes another step forward and the toes of their shoes nearly touch. “And maybe I’m being selfish now by asking you to stay, but you’re not the only one trying to get rid of the pain,”

Alani takes a shallow breath and studies the eagerness in his eyes. The sight makes her chest pound. 

“I’m sorry that I ever made you doubt,” she whispers. “But I meant every word I said, you were everything to me. You were the sun that my life revolved around and I was terrified of losing you because the truth is that I hate the cold, too,”

Harry gently reaches a hand up to her cheek and Alani leans into the warmth of his touch. 

“Can I show you something?”

You and your goddamn surprises. “Yes.”

He leads them down several winding hallways before flicking a light on in the gallery. Alani’s heart stops when she sees it. 

“Not quite as impressive as the real thing,” Harry offers. “But Ms. O’Keeffe did a pretty damn good job,”

An original Georgia O’Keeffe painting of a waterfall, their waterfall, the one that Alani had mentioned all that time ago, is displayed proudly on the wall before them. A replica had hung above the bed they shared on many nights and all at once a faint memory resurfaces. 

“Where did you say the original was?”

“New York Botanical Garden,” 

 “M’gonna take you one day,”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

Alani takes a step closer to the artwork and examines the details of the oil on canvas. A few steps behind, Harry is only concerned with her reaction and pays little attention to the piece of art on display. As far as he was concerned, Alani was the only one worth admiring. 

“Do you remember what you told me when I asked why you went to the falls to write?” Alani asks. 

Of course Harry had, but he remains silent to let her continue. 

“You said that you liked going there,” she adds, deliberate. “Because it made you forget about every bad thing that ever happened to you, because none of it was real in comparison to the feeling of standing in front of that waterfall,”

Harry nods gently, but he still doesn’t speak. 

“Do you know what that feeling is called?”

“No,”

“It’s called home,” Alani says softly, turning to face him. “It’s what I felt, what I feel, when I’m with you,”

His breath hitches and he stands frozen as she carefully walks toward him.

“And while we’re making wishes come true,” she smiles delicately. “I never told you what I wished for the day we saw that rainbow,”

“What did you wish for?” Harry searches. 

Alani’s eyes fall to his parted lips. “That you would kiss me.”

His mouth curls at the edges and he releases a long breath. “Think maybe I can deliver on that one, too.”

Harry leans in, ever so slightly, and Alani closes the gap. They had been standing mere inches apart, but the meeting of their lips bridges an entire chasm. Over and over again, like waves against the shore, their mouths collide desperately as they pull each other closer with no intentions of ever letting go. 

********

February 14, 2018

“Comment est le temps?” 

Alani peers up at Harry and shields her eyes from the sun behind his back. “What does that mean?”

He grins softly and kisses the top of her head before taking a seat on the balcony next to her. 

“Means ‘how’s the weather?’,” 

“Oh,” she leans over, lips puckered for a kiss. “Full of perfectly Parisian sunshine,”

“Try sayin’ that ten times fast,”

Alani swipes his pink, heart shaped sunglasses and slips them onto the bridge of her nose with a contented sigh. Ahead, the Eiffel tower stands proudly in the distance and the lenses of her glasses tint the entire scene in a picturesque rosy glow. 

“La Ville de L’amour,” she hums. “Did I say that right?”

“Oui,”

“Hey, you know what I saw on the room service menu?”

Harry shakes his head. “No, what?”

“Piña coladas,” Alani wiggles her brows. “Think they deliver at midnight?”

He chuckles lightly and his hand takes purchase on her knee. “They better,”

“Never had a Parisian piña colada. Sounds romantic, though.”

“Sure does, sweets.”

Alani stands and reaches for Harry’s hand. He accepts and rises to his feet, pulling her close. Below, the sounds of the city serenade them as they gently sway in the chilly breeze. When Harry feels Alani shiver, he hugs  her to his chest and rests his chin comfortably on the top of her head. She feels his steady heartbeat against her cheek and smiles softly, fingertips smoothing up and down his back. 

“Are you ready for Valentine’s Day surprise number one?” he asks, pulling away slightly to meet her eyes. 

She narrows her eyes. “Where are we going?”

Harry pulls back with a mischievous smile, hands still attached to hers, and leads them back inside.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

Alani giggles but she doesn’t push. Instead, she happily follows him out of their room, down the hall, and into the bustling streets of Paris. 

We don’t know where we’re going 

But we know where we belong 

And oh we started 

Two hearts in one home 

It’s hard when we argue 

We’re both stubborn 

I know, but oh

Sweet creature, sweet creature 

Wherever I go, you bring me home 

Sweet creature, sweet creature

When I run out of road 

You bring me home

[letsgetusaghostfriend]

A Green Day concert, a bloody nose and a coming out – Sunset Curve & Green Day I

Summary: Luke and Bobby got them tickets for the Green Day show in LA on November 2nd 1994, also known as the night Billie Joe punched a homophobe and Alex came out to the guys.

Friendship fic, super Alex & Bobby centred, Luke and Reggie are not straight but don’t know that yet. Also, I know most people think Alex came out way earlier, but he has to not be out for this story to work.

((warnings: homophobia, homophobic language (not fully written out except in the band name of the opening act), slight violence, mentioned: alcohol, underage drinking (I am german, so for me it’s not underage drinking but yeah), in general: swearing))

word count: 4.9k, read here on AO3 x

~

Luke and Bobby got four tickets for the Green Day show in LA on November 2nd in 1994, it was one of Green Day’s bigger shows at that time. The boys previously have been to other concerts of the band, but the last one was in a small club in ’92, of course, all four of them being way too young for that place. Luke and Reggie were the first ones out of their group to get fake ID’s, mainly to go to gigs and play gigs. In the beginning, Alex thought he would never do the same, too scared of possible consequences, but then Luke used his stupid puppy eyes. (They still work even after Alex crush died, dead and buried). And if he was being honest, it was really helpful for playing clubs if the owners can at least pretend that they believe the four boys are old enough to be there.

Alex was aware that Green Day’s opening act, Pansy Division, was an all-gay band. And he was excited and scared at the same time. He found out because this one kid in his English class, Josh, went to the San Diego show earlier that week and told one of his friends that he shouldn’t go to the LA show as Green Day was just a bunch of “f*g lovers” and not worth their time. So Alex was scared: what if his friends would say the same thing?

They arrive late and the line is massive, Alex anxiety pitches in and reminds him that if it takes too long for them to get inside, he might miss Pansy Divisions performance. Logically he knows that they wouldn’t start letting people in so late that the opening band already starts when most people are not inside yet, but his anxiety is not that into logical thinking. He can’t help being fidgety, at one point Luke noticed and asks him if the crowd is making him uncomfortable. “Yeah, a little bit” Alex responds, not wanting further questions about why he was so anxious. The boys keep close to the bar, staying in the back first, not too excited to get into the crowd just yet. Alex knows the others would be inside the first mosh pit if it wasn’t for his anxiety, but not once did they show any signs of annoyance about his hesitancy. They just patiently wait for Alex to get used to the crowd and atmosphere, never angry when he has a bad day and he never signals that it is okay for them to go into the more crowded areas. Sometimes, especially when Luke doesn’t know where to put his energy he and Reggie go, but they always make sure that at least one person stays with Alex. He probably should tell them how thankful he is for this more often (the others would disagree here since they feel like Alex thanks them too much).

When Pansy Division started playing Alex didn’t expect them to actually sing about hooking up with guys at rock concerts, loving men, having real, deep and meaningful relationships and just, in general, doing normal daily life stuff, living with a boyfriend and how it feels after a breakup. He feels so excited, almost jumping up and down to the beat, not able to put his excited energy out on the drums like he would if it was their own concert. Alex completely forgets to check the guys for any reactions, too involved in the music. He doesn’t see that the other three boys enjoy Pansy Divisions music just as much as he does. He doesn’t see Bobby eyeing him from the side, a knowing glint in his eye.

Alex doesn’t know that Bobby saw the way Alex would look at Luke when they were 14, at Brian from History when they were 15, and how he sometimes looks at pictures from Billie Joe Armstrong in magazines. Bobby also didn’t miss Alex’ obsession with the song Coming Clean. The other boys sometimes forget about how Bobby’s parents are genuine open-minded people, who introduce him to a lot more diverse people than his friends’ parents do. So yes, maybe Alex was discreet enough for Mr Luke Oblivious Patterson and Captain Reg Oblivious Peters, and his parents who anyway only see what they want to see, but not for Bobby. Bobby, who might from an outsider’s perspective looks like he is standing a bit outside this friendship group due to him being less loud and sociable than his friends, but Bobby who loves his friends with all his heart, Bobby who truly sees his friends and knows that this is where he belongs. Seeing the absolute bliss, happiness and excitement streaming from Alex like waves is contagious.

After Pansy Division finished their set and there was a short break before Green Day would start theirs, Bobby slips from their group, mumbling that he would get another beer. Instead, he goes to buy Pansy Divisions EP, because the band was genuinely good but mostly because he knows Alex wouldn’t buy it, but he will definitely want it. On his way to the little corner where they sell the Green Day merch as well as Pansy Division stuff, Bobby realises that it was actually packed, but he soon saw that it was just a long long line for the Green Day merch. Actually, there are so many people he can’t even see the Green Day merch salesperson. He manages to get to the guy who took care of the Pansy Division stuff, he greets him with a head nod and a short “hey”, while scrambling his money out of his pant pockets to count it. He’ll have to nick a bit off of Luke’s beer later, not having enough money left to buy another one. When he reaches out to hand out the money for the CD somebody joins the guy who cared for the merch. Bobby recognises that it’s the singer of Pansy Division and he smiles at him. “Great performance, really enjoyed you guys’ music!”. The singer grins at that and holds out his left hand, which Bobby finds a bit strange, but takes it nonetheless.

“Jon, nice to meet you.”

“Bobby, pleasure is all mine.”

“Ah, you’re a musician yourself!” Jon says while checking out Bobby as if he could tell whether the kid in front of him was any good based on his appearance. It took the guitarist a second to realise that Jon must’ve felt his calloused fingers from playing the guitar during the handshake. “Yeah, I’m actually here with my bandmates.” A voice in his head, that sounds suspiciously like Reggie tunes in with “We’re Sunset Curve, tell your friends.” But Bobby pretty much felt like a child trying to play in the adults’ league, so he doesn’t say anything else. Jon grabs the CD he was about to buy and opens it while asking “So Bobby, is the CD for you or someone else?” Taken aback by that question Bobby tells him without thinking “We kind of always share records. Em, so maybe Sunset Curve?” Jon who was about to sign the inside of the CD case, pauses and looks up again “You’re in Sunset Curve?”

“Yeah, rhythm guitar.” He answers without much of a thought, it takes him two seconds then he adds: “You’ve heard of us?” Jon chuckles at Bobby’s shocked tone.

“Saw you play a few months ago. Didn’t remember your name till Mike mentioned one of your songs, always called you “the band with the cute drummer” actually.” Jon casually explained to a still shell-shocked Bobby. The comment about Alex makes him choke on his own spit though. Jon smirks, but before he can say more Bobby’s mouth starts talking before his brain gave its okay: “You saw us well enough to say that Alex is cute, but you didn’t recognise me?” After the words left his mouth, he feels his face heat up.

‘Way to embarrass yourself by having too much of an ego, Robert, great job’, he thought to himself. But Jon again laughs it off, as if he made a funny joke, smirks and asks if Alex was here tonight.

“He is,” Bobby says, voice cold, “he is also sixteen.”

Now it was Jon’s time to look embarrassed. “Oh shit, never mind then.” He pauses. “Sixteen is a bit young to play that club you played, isn’t it?” He pauses again. “You guys take this whole music thing seriously, I like that!”

More at ease again after Jon’s reaction to Alex’ age, Bobby’s brain finally catches up with everything Jon said before he called Alex cute.

“Wait, Mike as in Mike Dirnt? As in Mike Dirnt mentioned one of our songs?” he asks astounded. Jon laughs at the utter bewilderment that the younger one’s face was showing. But before he could say something about it a loud voice behind Bobby sneers: “Oh look at that, Bobby the f*g lover.” He turns around and sees Andrew from his math class. “Always knew at least one of you would be a shirt lifter!”

Bobby tries to take a deep breath before he answers but Jon beats him to it. “I would really think people were clever enough to listen to lyrics, but you still find the poser ones at these concerts, especially since Dookie got Green Day so popular outside of the scene!” Bobby needed a few seconds to realise that Jon wasn’t even talking to Andrew but instead just talked about him to Bobby and the guy selling the merch.

“Don’t you dare talk to me like that you fucking fairy!” Andrew sneers, stepping closer to Jon. As soon as Andrews anger is directed towards Jon and not Bobby anymore, the guitarists fight instinct kicks in.

“Fairy? Really?” he asks Andrew with a snigger in his voice, “Didn’t know we live in the 50s, Andrew. Learned all these terms from your daddy?” Bobby tries to make his voice sound as degrading as possible. For a second it seems like Andrew might shut up and leave but then Jon starts laughing loudly about Bobby’s comments and before anyone can react Andrew takes a swing and hits Jon right on the mouth. Without thinking, Bobby copies his action and the next thing he knows is that his hand hurts and Andrew has a red square on the side of his face. He glares at the guitarist and strikes again. This time the fist hits Bobby’s nose and he sees black stars in front of his eyes for a few seconds. After that, all hell is breaking loose and Bobby is being pushed around for what feels like a few minutes before he gets pulled aside and finds himself behind the selling booth with Jon by his side who has a busted lip that is still bleeding. Jon has a hand on the teen's shoulder and looks worried at him. “Fuck your nose does not look too good!” he says. Hearing the words Bobby brings his hand up to his nose and winces when he feels a sharp pain as soon as his fingers touch his nose. “Fuuuuuuuuck, Alex is going to kill me!” he groans at the thought of how the blond will react to seeing Bobby like this.

“Hey man, good punch you got on the dickhead there!” an excited voice states beside Bobby, which makes him turn his head probably a bit too quick, considering he just got punched in the face a few minutes before. But the guitarists' instincts were right: standing beside him was no other than Green Days’ singer, Billie Joe Armstrong. The blond (with fading blue in his hair) is smiling at Bobby and continues with “but I think mine was even better” while pointing at something behind Bobby, who turns around just in time to see security carrying a half-conscious Andrew out of the venue.

“You know that guy?”

“He goes to my school!” Bobby answers, still in awe looking after Andrew.

“Oh, you need to tell me about how he looks tomorrow, man I don’t miss high school but I’d love to go to school just to see that!” Billie Joe tells him and Jon, still sounding way too excited. When Bobby turns around again to look at the two musicians in front of him, he catches Jon telling Billie Joe that Bobby is part of the band they talked about the other day. Somehow getting even more excited by the news he fully turns back to Bobby. “Love that! We need more good people in this scene so we can make sure the music stays clean of dudes like that! Well, it was lovely punching homophobes with you Bobby, but I actually have a concert to play!”

And with that Billie Joe is gone through the door leading to the backstage area and Bobby looks at Jon hoping that he can find answers with him (like is he hallucinating?) but he just chuckles at the teenagers in awe face and takes the CD Bobby wanted to buy all along, as well as the money he had already paid and hands both back at the teen with the words “I think you paid enough for this already, thanks for sticking up for me!” And adding, when Bobby tries to give the money back again, “You better go so your bandmates don’t worry and you don’t miss the Green Day show!” Bobby thanks him and with a smile he makes his way back to the other boys while putting the money and the CD into his pockets.

When Alex finally sees Bobby come back to them, he feels relief washing over him. Alex always hates it when they split especially if one of them is on their own and Bobby has been gone for way too long. The first thing Alex notices is that Bobby doesn’t carry any beer or anything else that he could’ve brought from a bar, the second thing is that Bobby’s nose is bleeding. The easing relief is instantly replaced by worry as Alex's brain catches up with his eyes. As soon as the guitarist reaches them Alex starts searching his fanny pack for tissues and anything else that can help with a bloody nose, all while berating Bobby about getting into a fight. Reggie and Luke excitedly ask Bobby about it, but when their bleeding bandmate tries to tell them about what happened Alex just shushes him and gestures for him to look up so that he can take a better look at his nose. While Alex is still cleaning up Bobby’s face the crowd starts cheering and Alex turns around quickly to confirm his suspicion that the main act finally made it on stage. He keeps on cleaning his friends face from now slightly dried blood when he hears Billie Joe's voice over the speakers.

“Sorry guys, I know we’re late, but I had to punch a homophobe…” The rest of the sentence does not reach Alex’ brain as he looks at one of his best friends, whose nose was bleeding after obviously being punched and all he can hear is white noise, while the realisation, that Bobby being the homophobe who was just punched by Green Days’ singer, sets in. He feels a sharp sting in his chest all while feeling overwhelmed by fear, cold naked fear. And his thoughts race through his brain, too fast to actually make any sense, all he knows is that his worst nightmare seems to be coming true: the people he trusts the most will eventually leave him. They will hate him. They will think he is disgusting, and they will leave him. Unconsciously he takes a step back from Bobby, taking both his hands off his friends face but before he can totally spiral into his thoughts, he is caught by Bobby who holds the drummer by his wrists and looks at him like Alex offended him deeply.

“Seriously?” Bobby’s voice comes out sharper than he probably intended, softening his tone as he sees Alex flinch at him, “You actually think I am homophobic? Fuck Alex do you really think that poorly of me?” The guitarists' words and face are both filled with what Alex can only describe as hurt. Bobby attempts to say more but he is cut off by Billie Joe's voice coming over the speakers saying his name.

“A special thanks to Bobby from Sunset Curve! Make sure you check them out they’re a local band that’ll make it big one day, I’ll promise you! I swear, give them less than a year and they’ll be playing here on this very stage! Thanks, Bobby, for helping me punch a dickhead!” And with that they start into their first song, leaving the boys standing completely mind blown in the back, each one trying to comprehend what just happened. After a few seconds, Reggie, Luke and Alex all turn to Bobby with questioning faces, but Bobby concentrates on Alex’ face. “Do you believe me now?” When Alex nods the, still bleeding, guitarist feels relief wash over him. “Good! Because I already have your Christmas present and I literally know no one else who has the same taste that you have!” He actually manages to make Alex smile with his stupid comment, feeling like they might be okay again, he holds onto Alex’ sleeve, needing something to ground him, knowing that Alex is uncomfortable with public affection. He turns to Luke and Reggie who as soon as they have his attention try to bombard him with questions, but he stops them and promises to tell them later.

___

After the concert:

When they leave the venue, a wave of, for L.A. unusually cold air, hits Bobby’s face and clears his head a little, making it easier to think about everything that had happened. As he was the first one out of the four to step out in the cold air, he takes a deep breath before turning around to see the other three boys walk up to him. He notices that Alex pulls his jean jacket tighter around his body, clearly not enjoying the cold air as Bobby does. He smiles at Bobby and then follows Reg and Luke who started walking towards the side street where they parked the van before the concert. The two boys talk animatedly about the Green Days show, analysing every detail. Seeing one of their favourite bands live did distract the two enough for them to not ask any further questions, right now. Alex smile tells Bobby that the same did not count for the blonde boy. Bobby jogs up to Alex to walk beside him, but when he tries to initiate a conversation with his bandmate, the blonde just shakes his head and mumbles, that he has things to think, but as if to calm Bobby down, Alex takes his hand and squeezes it before they reach their van. The van they brought because they actually started to be able to book enough gigs to pay for it (and to actually need it), they all paid for it, even though they don’t talk about the fact that Bobby paid the biggest part, with him having the only parents who actually support the band.

Bobby is driving, with Alex in the passenger seat lost in his thoughts and Luke and Reggie in the back, trying to get Bobby to finally tell them about what happened at the venue. The guitarist promises to tell them as soon as they arrive at the garage, but despite the impatience from Luke and Reggie to find out about everything they still have a quick stop at a small diner on their way home to get their after-concert food.

Alex, Reggie and Luke all go straight for the couch while bobby prefers sitting on the floor, facing them. For a few seconds they all munch happily but soon Luke starts bugging Bobby about what happened at the club, so he puts his sandwich aside and takes a short breath. He doesn’t know where to start, he kind of wants Alex to know that he got the CD for him, but he doesn’t want to put any pressure on Alex, nor does he want the other two to find out about Alex liking boys before Alex wants them to.

“So,” Bobby starts, “we all really liked Pansy Division, right?” he asks with a nervous laugh tinting his words. He looks at the three boys on the couch for confirmation and gets it from two of the boys while Alex looks like he gets scared by the simple indication that he might have really liked the queer band they all saw tonight. Bobby acts like he didn’t see it while deciding, that he won’t tell the blond that Jon was hitting on him. That might be a bit much information for one night. “Well, I thought,” he continues while pulling out the CD he brought earlier “I’ll get us their CD.” He waves the CD then places it on the table in front of the couch so the guys can look at it.

“And that’s where I met one of the band members, Jon, he is the singer.” He looks up at his friends who all stare at him with a mixture of shock and curiosity on their faces, even Alex nervousness seems replaced. ‘I didn’t even get to the really shocking parts yet’, Bobby thought to himself.

“Okay, so we got talking, he found out I play in a band and when he asks for a name to use to sign the CD I just said Sunset Curve, because we always share records, like I mean I don’t even know who owns what anymore!” Luke looks dead serious while nodding his head, Alex starts smiling slightly and Reggie looks like he is trying really hard to separate their shared music collection in his head.

“Anyway, it turns out he saw one of our shows earlier this year and apparently, he was talking about one of our songs with Mike, but before you get too excited, I couldn’t ask him about it because that dick Andrew from my math class interrupted us. He called me a – eh, never mind” he stops himself, giving Alex a short glance – “he started calling me and Jon names and I kind of started making fun of him for using really outdated terms and when Jon laughed about that, Andrew hit him and then I hit Andrew and he hit me back and suddenly everything got crazy. Next thing I know is that I am behind the merch booth with Jon and Billie Joe Armstrong, and Andrew is being carried outside by security.” He tries to rush the words out fast enough so that Luke doesn’t stop him because of the band being recognised and Alex doesn’t stop him because he hit someone.

“And then Billie Joe finds out I am in Sunset Curve and he says something about it being good that more good people will keep the scene going or something and then he pretty much left to play the show and Jon gave me the CD and I went back to you guys so you wouldn’t worry too much.” When he finally finishes his story, he is staring at three really shocked looking faces.

“Mike Dirnt and Billie Joe both know of Sunset Curve?”

“Who knew Bobby is such a badass!”

“You hit Andrew?”

All three started talking at the same time, but then Alex stands up and he looks real mad and everyone else shuts up. Bobby looks at him. “Alex, I didn’t plan to, it just happened. I got so mad when he started calling Jon these awful names and when he hit him, I just snapped.”

“What about our no fighting rule, huh?”

“So, when someone is being super homophobic, I am just supposed to do nothing?”

At that moment Bobby realises that Alex didn’t process until now that Andrew was using homophobic slurs against Bobby and Jon. He sees Alex anger vanish from him in mere seconds, replaced by fear and sadness settling in his eyes. Lips pressed into a thin line Alex sits down on the couch again. It breaks Bobby’s heart to see his friend like this. They all stay silent for a while.

“What did he say?” Alex asks with a voice so quiet Bobby almost misses it.

“Alex,” he sighs, “I am pretty sure you don’t want to know!”

With that Alex's eyes, which were glued to his hands before, snap up and meet Bobby’s. “You know, don’t you?” Alex asks Bobby, seemingly completely forgetting that the other boys are in the room.

Bobby does not know what to answer, not wanting to make Alex come out because he feels like he has to, or because Bobby figured it out already. “I only know what you want me to know, everything else is just a hunch.” He finally settles on.

Alex laughs. “So, you definitely know, and I actually thought I was being subtle.”

“I still love you, you know that, right?” Bobby just needs Alex to know that. Even if this is a weird one, Bobby wants this to be the reaction Alex gets for his first coming out.

It takes Alex a few seconds but finally, he looks up again, searching Bobby’s face for any trace of him lying. As Alex realises that the boy in front of him means what he said he feels like the biggest wave of relief washes over him. This, black-haired, awkward and quiet boy in front of him, who buys CD’s from queer bands, punches one of his classmates because he was being a homophobic bigot to a complete stranger and whose first reaction to Alex half-assed coming out is to tell him that he still loves him. This boy, who is so uncomfortable with most people touching him, who still wants to hold all of their hands all the time, calling them grounding. This boy, who would probably punch more people to protect them because he gets crazy protective about the people he cares about. And suddenly it’s difficult not to start crying and Alex feels like his voice will break if he tries to talk so he just nods.

And in that second, knowing he has Bobby on his side for this, he decides that he wants them all to know. So, he gets up from the couch and “gets on the runway” as Luke likes to call Alex’ nervous walking occasionally. After walking up and down three times, he suddenly stops, turns to Luke and Reg who look super confused by what is happening and he blurts out “Iamgay” so fast that there was no way that any of the guys could’ve understood a single word. So, he takes a deep breath and repeats: “I am gay” while standing there, eyes closed, and breath held.

“Oh, that…” Luke starts, but he gets interrupted by Reggie who says: “That makes so much sense, that is why you were staring at Brian so much last year! That really confused me, man!”

“I was... I was not staring at Brian Denver!” Alex sputters embarrassment creeping in his cheeks.

“You totally were, you even knew who Reg was talking about right away!” Luke laughs and gets up to pull Alex in a big hug, squeezing him tight. Reggie gets a hold of them and pulls them down on the couch where he squeezes between them, and wooshes through Alex’ hair affectionately. Alex, now half sitting on the couch and half lying on Reggie looks up to Bobby, who stands awkwardly in front of the couch. As the other two notice Bobby as well they all kind of freeze in their cuddle pile. Even as Bobby was more comfortable touching his bandmates than he was with touching his parents, or literally anyone else, he still never expressed any interest in being part of a cuddle pile before. Seeing how all of his friends stopped as he approached, the guitarist started taking a step back, but Alex stopped him by holding out his hand for Bobby to take. It takes him a few seconds but finally, he lets himself being pulled on top of Alex into the cuddle pile and even though it feels strange at first he likes the feeling of Alex’ soft t-shirt under his cheek, Reggie’s arm around his waist and the smell of Luke’s cologne.

Later that night Bobby snatches a picture of his best friends still cuddling on the couch hours later, now all fast asleep. He hasn’t shown that picture to anyone except for his daughter when she finds out about the band 25 years later and he decides to tell her about the loves of his life, even if most people wouldn’t recognise them as it since it was purely platonic love. And even though he got married, he never loved anyone as much, with the exception of his daughter, as he loved the three boys who left him when he was just 17 years old.

The next day Bobby snatches a picture of Andrews black eye. He shows that picture to Billie Joe, backstage at an event he attempts without his best friends after the man recognises him as the kid with whom he punched a homophobe. After that Bobby leaves the event early, not being able to hold up the image of Trevor, too consumed by grieve and guilt. Guilt over not being able to protect them. Guilt over not dying with them. Guilt over using their songs.

[aestheticseungmean]

Hi can you write a one-shot with 20,64 and 97 ? Thanks and have a nice day

short skirts, emo bands, and maids, oh my!- Jeon Jungkook

Synopsis- You like Yuta, Jungkook loves you, and Yuta loves anime and nothing else. What does it take for Jungkook to make you see that?

4029 words

Warnings: Unconsentual kiss but both parties enjoy it and cussing

Fluff and a bit of angst

A/N: Sorry for taking so long. I really struggled to get motivated to write with everything else going on around me. Also, this was supposed to be Yuta’s story but it drifted into a Jungkook story instead.

⚠️PLEASE NOTICE⚠️: I wanted to leave you guys with one last thing before I went on break. I am officially announcing my hiatus from for a few months. I’ll still be on here reading and liking things but I won’t write.

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“Did you know your skirt is below your fingertips?” You rolled your eyes at your best friend Jungkook. “Thank you, Captain obvious.” He gave you his signature bunny smile, scrunching up his nose in amusement. “The skirt is short on purpose.” “Who are you trying to impress? Yuta?” You stared at your outfit in the mirror which consisted of a black skirt, a pastel pink shirt, fishnet tights, and your favorite pair of converse which were also pink. To say that you thought you looked good was an understatement. You were feeling yourself in this outfit. You felt cute yet sexy. “As a matter of fact, I like this outfit for me, but it may be a tiny bit for Yuta,” you confessed. Jungkook laughed and played with the hem of the blanket on your bed, waiting for you.

Yuta was your crush. He was also your neighbour whom you saw everyday on your way to work. You often waved towards him only to receive a quick glance and nothing more. Occasionally, you’d see him in the game store you worked at, checking out the new selections of games, manga, and animes. Each time, you were too shy to do more than just wave or squeak out a meek ‘hi’. And more often than not, he just ignored you and went about his search, leaving you sighing to yourself and stocking some more Pop Funko figurines. Maybe he just thought you and Jungkook were an item like everyone else did, or maybe he just didn’t want to be friends with you. Either way, at one point you might have well given up. But, you being the simp you are, you didn’t. You kept on trying to be his friend and maybe even more.

“Are you ready? I want to go to this cafe that Jimin told me about. Said it was the best place he ever went.” You were skeptical about anything Jimin suggests, because last time you went to the movie theatre with Jungkook and ended up watching 50 Shades Darker. It probably would’ve been better if you had seen the previous movie, but nevertheless it wasn’t something to watch with your best friend. “I don’t trust Jimin,” you grumbled out, picking up your backpack and keys. “Let’s go before I change my mind. I’m letting you know now that you’re paying.” Jungkook threw up his hands and nodded, following you out to your beat up car. “You have to get this thing replaced.” The passenger door screamed as he opened it. “The store isn’t getting good business so my paycheck has been cut.” You sighed softly as the car started up finally. You really did need a new car, but this is what you can afford right now.

The brightly colored sign to the cafe put you in awe. It could draw one in from a mile away. The inside of the cafe on the other hand made you want to strangle Jimin. Other than the cute, kawaii decorations, you were not impressed with the girls dressed up as maids, serving mainly business men. “Hello!” A young, cheerful girl gracefully made her way to you two while managing to grab two menus and avoiding at least six floating trays. “I’m Sora and I’ll be your server! Just two today?” Jungkook nodded. “Right this way!” How this girl could be so cheery was beyond you, but somehow it did make the experience a little better. You sat down in a pink booth across from Jungkook and ordered drinks. “Here you go. Just wave or ring the bell if you need me. I’ll be back to collect your order in a few.” She clamoured away to get your drinks.

“A maid cafe? Seriously? He’s such a perv.” “I find this kind of fun,” Jungkook smirked, not taking his eyes off of your annoyed face. “Shut up, Jeon.” An older woman casually made her way over to your table, pulling up a chair. “I noticed that you looked annoyed. Are my ladies doing alright?” “Yes ma’am,” you squeaked out, feeling a bit under pressure. “Good. Good. Is this your boyfriend?” You shook your head. “He’s my best friend.” She nodded as she comprehended what you said. “I noticed your outfit is very fitting for you.” “Look, ma’am, may I ask what you are doing?” You weren’t trying to be rude, but it was weird to have a stranger come up to you and inquire about your life. “Come work for me. We need more people like you. The pay starts at $15 an hour and your lunch today is on the house. Here is my business card, call me with your answer.”

The lady slid her business card towards you and returned the chair to the other table before walking off. “I feel like I’m dealing drugs.” “I think it would be cute. I’d come visit you everyday if you worked here,” Jungkook teased, “and I’m sure Jimin would love to see you work here. You know he’s a bitch for people in maid outfits.” You kicked his shin under the table and pocketed the business card. Things will have to get really bad before you subject yourself to this line of work. “Over my dead body,” you huffed, grabbing at the drink the waitress brought earlier. Jungkook, however, grabbed the drink from you and took a sip out of the straw before you could. “Hey-“ you protested but he cut you off. “Ahh. Pepsi?” “Yeah but-“ He smiled and winked. “I know you so well.” “Only because I order that every time I go someplace with Pepsi products.”

The food was exceptional even though you tried to hate it. The service was a 13/10 and you appreciated the way the waitress actually waited until you were done chewing before coming over to check on you. Outside, Jungkook laughed and jumped to the car. “That was fun! We should do it again!” “No, you were checking out our waitress half the time,” you grumbled. “Did you notice she had puppy ears?” In fact, you didn’t notice anything except the short skirts. “No?” “Yeah! Every waitress and waiter in there wears a pair of animal ears. I think I’d rock the bunny ones.” You chuckled and got into the car, Jungkook following suit. “Honestly, if you worked there…so many girls would flock to eat at the cafe and it would become world famous.” “So you’re saying I’m hot, eh?” He wiggled his eyebrows playfully, making you smack him. “Of course you’re hot. I’d be stupid not to see it, but you are my best friend.”

You knew you had hit a nerve when his smile faltered a bit. “Did you know scientifically, 83% of couples consider their partner their best friend?” “No, I didn’t. I do now.” Jungkook sighed and sat back into his seat and watched you start the car. Once back at the apartment complex, you and Jungkook walked in silence to the elevators. The doors were closing when you heard a quick, “Hold the doors!” You watched as a familiar black haired boy ran into the elevators breathless. “Are you okay, Yuta?” He nodded and checked his watch as if he was in a rush. “Do you have an important meeting or something?” “What’s it to you?” Your eyes widened as Jungkook began to tense up, something he does before he gets ready to fight. Instinctively, your arms pushed Jungkook back against the wall. “It’s not our business, Jungkook.” As much as you wished to know, you couldn’t because as you said, it’s not your business. You pulled Jungkook closer to you on the opposite side of the elevator from where Yuta was standing.

The shoddy elevator shook and groaned before coming to a stop somewhere between the seventh and eighth floor. Yuta growled and checked his phone. “He’s going to kill me,” he muttered to himself. “Attention! Is there anyone in the elevators, if yes please press the call button and let us know.” Jungkook pressed the call button and soon enough you found out that you were stuck for at least three hours. You scrolled through your phone to check for any news. “It seems the entire city has lost power.” “I guess you’re stuck with me!” Jungkook teased. You slid down the wall carelessly and leaned against the wood panel. “Don’t seem so sad. At least you’re stuck with me.” “Can you guys quit flirting all the damn time?” Yuta’s voice echoed a bit in the small space. “What’s your problem, dude?” Jungkook stepped forward. “My problem is that I’m stuck here, late for band practice, and you two sound so cringy. If y’all are going to fuck, wait until we get off.”

“What is your band?” “Riot of the Dark,” he sighed, sitting down. You tugged Jungkook’s hand and gave him a look that said ‘sit down’. “Riot of the Dark? The lead guitarist is Han Jisung right?” “Yeah. How did you know?” You smiled thinking back to your times with the boy. “Jisung is my favourite cousin. In fact, if I’m correct, the leader is Woosung.” Yuta nodded once again. “You seem to know my band pretty well,” he complimented, making you blush. “I like your music.” “I lIkE yOuR mUsIc,” Jungkook mocked. “WHAT THE HELL IS YOUR PROBLEM JUNGKOOK?” “My problem? What’s my problem?” His dark eyes glared at you taking you by surprise. He was never like this. “My problem is you!” You felt a pang in your heart as you held back the tears welling up in your eyes. “M-Me?” “Yes, you! You have your head so far up in the clouds dreaming about Yuta that you can’t see the one person in front of you who likes you. You are so damn oblivious and it hurts the ones around you.” Blood rushed to your cheeks as you felt Yuta’s eyes on you. Jungkook had exposed your crush in front of your crush. You hid yourself in your sweatshirt and silently cried, hating your best friend.

“That was cold.” “SHUT THE FUCK UP!” Rage filled Jungkook at his stupid mistake. Now you probably hated him and there was nothing he could say or do about it. “_______, I’m sorry.” You looked up at him with wet cheeks. “Fuck you,” you spat out. Luckily, the elevator started to move hours before it was said to be running meaning you could get home faster. The doors creaked open and you pushed through the mess of people waiting for the elevator to get to the apartment you call home. You left the door unlocked because as much as you hated Jungkook at the moment, you knew he couldn’t go home just yet, so you locked yourself in your bedroom. Knock. Knock. Knock. You knew at some point, he was going to knock on the door and you’d inevitably open it because it was Jungkook, but you didn’t think it would be so soon. “Go away.” “We need to talk,” he pleaded through the door. “What’s there to talk about? You ruined my crush on Yuta, because now I can never see him face to face again or I might spontaneously combust in anxiety.”

You heard a small laugh through the door. “You won’t spontaneously combust. I’m sorry, you know.” A soft sigh fell from your lips. “I know.” “Will you let me in?” You opened the door and watched as he fell in. “A warning would’ve been nice, but I deserved that.” “Yes you did,” you huffed, biting back a few words, but he noticed it. “You want to say something. I know you do,” he coaxed. “Are you hurt?” A small smile appeared on his face as he realized that not all hope is lost. “A little bruise but it will heal.” “Where?” Jungkook pointed to his head where the bruise was. You flicked it before pulling his head down and giving it a kiss. “ There. I’m still mad though.” He cooed at your little pout and hugged you. “Am I still your friend?” You looked up at him and nodded. Even though he had embarrassed you, the bond runs way deeper than a crush did. “Can you smile for me?” “No.” He giggled cutely and sat down on the swivel chair by your desk. “I’m going to do it,” you stated out of nowhere. “Do what?” “I’m going to confess to Yuta tomorrow!” Jungkook’s face fell and he scowled at the ground.

————————————————

Maybe you were feeling confident or maybe you were led by the determination to right a wrong. Either way, you were standing outside of Yuta’s apartment door, knocking. He opened the door in his emo-like glory and surprisingly, you smiled. “Do you need something? I’m busy practicing.” “I wanted to come over here and explain what happened yesterday.” You paused for a minute, regaining your words, “I like you, Yuta. I’ve been harbouring a crush on you for months now and I wanted to get it off of my chest.” He stared at you silently, and all of a sudden a wave of anxiety hit you. To control yourself from bursting, you picked at the sides of your thumbnails, picking at the skin, most likely causing them to bleed. “I don’t like you. I’m not really interested in getting to know you and I’m not looking for a friend let alone a relationship. If that’s all you wanted to say then I need to go,” Yuta spoke bluntly. “I have one more thing,” you forced out, trying to keep a steady voice. “Have a good life.” With that, you walked away calmly to your apartment where Jungkook was waiting.

“So?” Jungkook asked, feeling somewhat curious. “He rejected me, but oddly enough I’m okay. I’m not sad. I’m not mad. I’m not happy. I’m just okay.” “Is that good?” You nodded, but you were in a hazy state of mind. Like a fog was clouding your thoughts. “I’m going to go home to do some work at my neighbour’s house.” “Okay.” He gave you a quick hug and walked out of your apartment and towards his home. You, on the hand, took a shower to clear your thoughts and then sat on your bed, staring at the wall, trying to find your thoughts. Why didn’t you care that Yuta turned you down? And why did you feel relieved when he rejected you? Your mind turned to Jungkook, and no matter how hard you tried you couldn't stop the memories of him appearing in your head. Somewhere in your confused state, the cafe materialised and then you pieced it all together. You didn’t have a crush on Yuta. He was just something to distract you from Jungkook. Something realistic and not so far fetched, but when your friend told you he loved you, you felt that Jungkook was the realistic thing. That maybe that was a part of your life that you could be happy with.

You locked the door behind you and took off towards the direction of Jungkook’s house. The steps of your running feet echoed through the semi empty streets as you drew closer and closer. The grey door offered you comfort as you knocked. It opened to a confused Jungkook. “_______?” “It wasn’t Yuta,” you said in between breaths. “It never was. It was a fantasy that grew in my head to block the real thing. You.” “You’re not making any sense.” You took a deep breath and kissed him. Happily, he kissed you back, knowing that you reciprocate his feelings. “I understand now,” he smiled. “I’m glad you do.” The two of you stood in the doorway just hugging and whispering confessions in each other’s ear. “I need to go do something, but I’ll come back tomorrow, okay?” “Okay.” Jungkook gave you one last kiss and watched you walk away. He didn’t notice you take a left instead of a right at the end of the block towards your new destination. One that will have a big effect on your life and maybe even better it.

The door of the café jingled as you walked in. “I’m sorry, we’re closed.” The girl looked up at you and smiled. “Oh, our boss told us about you. Follow me.” You followed her to the back where the old woman waited. “I hoped you’d come. Are you here for an interview?” “Yes, ma’am.” She nodded and proceeded to ask random questions for a few minutes. “You’re hired! Give me a second to get your uniform.” The old woman stood up and opened the door. “Areum! Please bring me a uniform for our new employee.” You heard a ‘Yes, Ma’am’ and the girl grabbed a uniform, bringing it to you. “Here you go. Let’s make sure it fits before you leave.” Areum showed you to the bathroom and you tried it on. To your surprise, it fit you perfectly. “It fits,” you said to her. “I knew it would. My fashion major never fails me.” You thanked her and the boss and went home with your schedule in hand.

The next day, you got into your car and headed to your new job at the cafe. “There you are!” The old woman sauntered over towards you. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to get changed in the back.” “I don’t mind. Please go see Yuna for your headband before we open up.” You nodded and went to go change. As told to do, you went to find Yuna. With the help of Sora and Areum, you found her. “Here for your headband?” Yuna asked. “Yes I am,” you say while nodding. She handed you teddy bear ears and you sighed, putting them on. “You can put your clothes and stuff in this locker.” You thanked her and checked your phone one last time to see Jimin saying he was taking Jungkook to the cafe and that you weren’t invited because you were a “Debby Downer”. You laughed at the irony and put the phone away before heading out to start seating and serving. “Sora!” “Yes?” She turned towards you smiling. “You remember the guy I was with when I came here before?” Sora nodded. “Can you seat him in my section?” “Sure thing!”

You headed off to start serving the other tables in your sections, working gracefully thanks to your many cousins that used to live with you. Then you heard the bell chime again and Jimin’s cute laugh you tease him about. “Right this way please.” They followed her to your section and sat down in their seat. “Check out the legs on that one,” you heard Jimin whisper. In the corner of your eye, you saw Jimin point at your legs from behind and Jungkook looked awkwardly. You moved to the other person who needed a quick refill before coming up behind Jimin. “If you ever comment on my legs again sir, we will have a problem,” you spoke in your most passive aggressive customer service voice. “_-___?” He stuttered out. Jungkook’s eyes widened as he realised it was you. “What can I get you handsome guys today?” You recited from memory what was to be said. Handsome guys and beautiful ladies. “I’ll have a sprite,” Jimin spoke, not taking his eyes off of you.

“I’ll have a water please.” You jotted down their drinks and recited the well known ‘I’ll be back’ before prepping their drinks. Once you returned, you grabbed your order pad and asked their order. “I would like the number two with onion rings instead of fries.” You nodded and turned towards Jungkook. “And you?” “I’d like the number four with a side of you for desert.” Jimin laughed but you didn’t find it that humorous as you were now blushing and glaring at Jungkook. “Stop glaring, princess. I know you want me.” A small scoff came from your lips. “Shut up.” “You know I’m right,” he said cockily. “I’ll put your order in now,” you hissed through gritted teeth. As you were walking away, you heard the small conversation Jimin and Jungkook had. “Are you guys dating?” “I hope so. They kissed me yesterday and said that they liked me.” You could feel the smile Jimin was giving Jungkook. “Congrats man! I know you’ve been chasing after them and getting friendzoned for a while now.” “I think my heart combusted when they kissed me.” You giggled at his cheesiness and gave the order to the chef.

Your shift went by quickly and you found it was fun. Jimin left a twenty dollar tip while Jungkook wrote a little note on the napkin. Meet me at the gym when you get off of work. You smiled and tucked it into your pocket while throwing the other inappropriate notes in the trash. It felt weird putting your sweatpants back on since the past ten hours were spent wearing a fluffy skirt. The walk to the gym was short and you embraced the squeaky door happily because behind it was Jungkook. He was punching at the punching bag hanging from the steel beam. Sweat dripped from his hair and onto his shirt sticking to his skin. When he saw you, he stopped his attack and gave you a bunny smile before reaching out to hug you. You on the other hand, ducked under his hug not wanting to get all sweaty. “Nope. Not doing it.” He pouted. “Can I at least have a kiss?” “Fine.” Jungkook moved closer to give you a kiss but pulled you into a hug and pecked your lips. “JEON!” You screeched as you felt the sweat drip onto you. “I have a clean shirt in my bag,” he said as he released you and threw you his extra shirt. “How am I supposed to change now?” “Bathrooms.”

You came out in the new shirt and a washed face. “I hate you.” “No you don’t,” he chuckled. “You’re right.” Jungkook resumed his workout while you watched in amazement. “So, I overheard you today.” “What do you mean?” The conversation from the cafe replayed in your head. “Is it true that your heart almost “combusted” when I kissed you?” He stopped for a minute. “Yeah, it did.” A small coo left your lips. “Awww, so cute!” Jungkook smiled and grabbed his towel, wiping away his sweat. “Let’s go to yours?” He suggested. “Sure.” The two of you walked home, hand in hand, talking and laughing. Once inside the apartment you forced him to take a shower to clean up. He washed up quickly to be able to spend more time with you, but you jumped in the shower. You came back to Jungkook staring off into space, muttering angrily. “Why are you angry?” “Because I’m trying to find ways to love you more,” Jungkook replied. You raised an eyebrow, feeling confused, but you sat down and began to brush out his hair. “You deserve all the love in the world and I’m trying to think of different ways to show you.”

“You’re silly, Jungkook.” You ruffled his almost dry hair and kissed his head. “You treat me like the baby when I’m older than you.” “You enjoy it though.” He huffed and crossed his arms. “Stop making valid points.” “How about no,” you yawned out. “Are you tired?” “Of course I am. It’s almost 10.” His head turned toward the clock. “Let’s go to sleep.” He laid down on the other side of your bed and allowed you to cuddle up to him. “Thank you for taking me back even after I rejected you,” you apologized. “My grandma used to tell me that if you love someone, you can either wait or move on but your decisions will affect you, so choose wisely. I chose to wait, not that it took you long to come back to me.” “I suppressed those feelings because I felt that you were out of my league.” Jungkook laughed. “You're not out of my league, I’m out of yours.” “Lies. It’s all lies.” You looked up and kissed him one last time before falling asleep. A few hours later, smiling cheesily, he fell asleep with you in his arms.

[lost-inthedream]

Secret Triangle

Part II – The beginning of a chaos

part I

Pairing: drummer! Wyatt (Jaeyoung) x bassist! gn reader x guitarist! Yuto

Genre: Fluff blended with funny parts and some angst (because love triangles are supposed to hurt). I promise a happy end though.

Warnings: cheating :/

Plus: Mentions of other members. Guitarist! J-Us (Seungjun)

Words: 1k

Summary: Well, but let's see how Y/N got into this love triangle.

“I’m in a band with the person I like but they make me pretend I don’t feel anything.”

You somehow expected Yuto to choose the words that would hurt you the worst. You broke his heart and he still was nice to you for a whole year. He should have said it before, you did not deserve such sweet treatment after what you’ve done.

“You don’t know my side of this shit” you struggled to say because your chest weighed like a truck.

“I know that you had a crush on Jaeyoung for a whole year. You told me it. So I understand that when he said some nice words to you it was your senpai-noticed-me moment. It’s fucked up to me but I understand. I should have quit this band while I still could” He headed to the exit instead.

You let your heavy body drop on the couch right after Yuto rushed out of your flat. His words still reverberated inside your head like a broken record. You desperately wanted someone to blame. Why did Jaeyoung do that to you? Why did he take so long to find you attractive? You could not say no to him even when you were finally moving on. He was the guy you dreamed of, he was your type, he was…

Screw it. You were weak when he had his hands around your waist in what felt like the best day of your life. The drummer wiped away the soft crush you were slowly developing on Yuto. Maybe that was your senpai-noticed-me moment indeed, however, it was melting away. The first times you lied with your head resting on his chest, it was surely magical. The thrill kept changing and losing brightness until the moment where being spoiled by your boyfriend has reduced to the most usual acts. Empty and uninteresting.

In short, You felt like a child becoming sick of a toy. So immature.

Sprawled on the couch, you experienced your thoughts flashing back to the path you have taken so far. There was a pub you, Jaeyoung and Seungjun spent the first year of the college frequenting. They hosted some great bands there and it felt even better after the third or fourth drink. You’ve always felt insanely alive in that place. Jaeyoung used to become touchy as the alcohol kicked. You, him and Seungjun shook your heads to the guitars and shouted the songs you loved. You used to go there in hopes to share special moments with Jaeyoung. That was like a tumor, you knew how bad it was for you. Anyways you could not help, you did not have eyes for anyone else. Nobody could even attempt to be more fascinating than your crush.

Your band was not big deal back then, still, you kept gathering in Jaeyoung’s garage to make some bad music, Seungjun used to joke. You were not exactly bad, you all simply lacked identity.

Yuto fit in your band like the last piece of a puzzle. There was something about his skills that you could not put into words. You, Jaeyoung and Seungjun never had to explain much to get him playing in the perfect way. The first time he played with you and the other two boys, he casually said he was able to follow whatever you played. “Just start and I’ll see what I can do” he suggested without any signs of nervousness. Jaeyoung and Seungjun both looked at you at the same time, with the same doubt lighting up. You calmly touched them on their shoulders and said the first song to pop on your mind “Somebody Told Me” by The Killers.

You all found out that his voice was soft and matched with yours. In no time, everyone was enchanted by his talents and easy personality. But you were more. It was like suddenly someone was able to beat Jaeyoung. Finally, your heart was awake for a new adventure. You just needed a minimal push.

A lot of people started to talk about your band after you played in a friend party, which was your first stage with Yuto. Like you, everyone who saw your new formation could not explain exactly what was better in the covers you played now. However, they definitely were top notch. Also, that pub owner (the same one where you repetitively went intending to get drunk with your drummer buddy) heard about your band and accepted to host you all.

On the night of what promised to be the best concert of your life, you kissed Yuto.

That clumsy kiss happened on your way to the pub. A hasty move only to try it out, only to calm your nerves down from the anticipation that occasion drew on you. You loved the grunge vibes created by that long-sleeved black t-shirt, his dark hair intentionally messed up plus combat boots. He swore you looked like a rockstar also. You doubted, you were so sure you would never become a stylish person that he felt obligated to convince you with his lips. That was rather a kiss full of meaning.

The concert was exciting, energetic and made you all feel alive and right. That stage was quite big and the amplifiers, speakers and microphones in that pub made your instruments and voices sound very clear. You were nervous in the beginning but Seungjun introduced you all like a professional. He had that charisma. Everyone shone brightly after all.

On the night of what promised to be the best concert of your life – and confirmed to be one of them – you also kissed Jaeyoung. This memory is slightly blurred to you. In a second you were thanking everyone who enjoyed the night with you and saying goodbye but shortly after Jaeyoung stopped you from walking out the stage. “Y/N we did that”.

You nodded still with a silly smile pasted on your face, a sweat drop making its way down your temple. His face leaned to yours in a dizzying velocity.

[tonguetiedvalentine]

best friend my ass — calum hood

word count: 1k

warnings: a bit of swearing

a/n: is it evident that i love the whole best friends to lovers concept? SJKFHKJ n e ways, hope u enjoy <3

Calums large hand was shielding my face from the burning sun rays in the best way possible.

Additionally, his long fingers stroked through my hair soothingly, making me feel as comfortable as I could ever feel.

Even though it was way too hot outside to cuddle, we would never miss an opportunity to be close to each other. It made us feel at ease, it made us happy in a way nothing else ever could.

In general, everything felt perfect that afternoon. My best friend was holding me close against his toned chest which was slightly sweaty due to the extreme heat while we spent time with our other best friends, surrounded by dogs, drinks, a pool and great music.

We all just enjoyed being around each other while a catchy Jonas Brothers song was playing in the back when suddenly the comfortable silence between us was ruined by the creak Michaels sunbed let out as he was adjusting himself on top of it.

He looked towards Calum and me while shaking his head and letting out a sigh.

"It's so damn hot out here, how could you still be that close to each other without melting completely?"

Calums chest rose a little as he chuckled about Michaels remark. "It's called "being comfortable around your best friend", Michael."

A slight snort escaped the guitarists lips. "Best friend my ass." That caused me to prop my body up, hands still situated on Calums torso, now fully facing the boy sitting across from us, who was barely holding his fiancées hand due to the high temperature. "What was that, Michael?"

He copied my movements, now no longer leaning against the backrest.

"You're making me sick, both of you. This has been going on for the last few months and I'm no longer watching this without saying anything." I tried interrupting him but he wouldn't let me. "This whole situation is ridiculous. Calum, I know you don't believe in love but the way you're looking at her and holding her does no longer look like she's just your best friend. And Y/N, I know you're afraid of committing and think that you're not able to stay with one and the same man but you've been pushing everyone who isn't Calum away from you because, I quote" I attempted to interrupt him for a second time, hoping I could stop him from revealing words that weren't meant to be heard by Calum, but again, he didn't hesitate to continue talking like I didn't say a thing, " "nobody makes you feel the way he does", so can you please just shut up and date already?"

After that, nobody dared to say a thing. Michael got up and muttered something about getting a cold beer from the fridge and disappeared in the house. Luke let out a deep breath he must have been holding while Sierra and Crystal exchanged an awkward glance.

The silence that used to feel peaceful and comfortable suddenly turned oppressive. Nobody really dared to look at each other, especially Calum and l. We both knew that Michael was absolutely right but we didn't want to screw up our friendship. Yet all I wanted was to grab his face and kiss his soft looking lips like I always fantasized to.

Calum however had different plans as he just pulled me back onto his chest. He let out a small laugh and even though he tried to make it sound casual, all of us could hear how uncomfortable he still felt. "Looks like that fella can't handle the heat, huh" I just nodded, trying not to be too bummed about the fact that he didn't say anything about the whole thing. I didn't get to think about it too much though, as I drifted into a deep sleep while listening to Calum calm heartbeat.

-

I jumped when the door slammed shut with a loud banging sand. I opened my eyes immediately, heart beating fast from waking up so suddenly. I giggled when I saw Calum still holding onto the door handle, squinting his eyes at me. "Sorry babe, I didn't mean to wake you up." I held out my hand to get him to come closer to the bed in one of Michaels guestrooms we were staying in tonight.

Calum didn't need any other signals to move closer to me. He sat down at the edge of the bed, holding my hand and playing with my fingers. "The others are watching a movie but I said we'd go to bed early. I wanted to have some time alone with you."

I gulped. Suddenly I felt nervous. I had no clue what what he wanted to do, especially after we haven't talked since Michael called us out in front of everyone. Before I could really panic though, he already lifted the blanket and slid under it.

"Listen Y/N, I'm sorry about earlier. I know I should've said something but I didn't know what I was supposed to say without fucking this up." He ran his hand through hair. "The truth is, I do have feelings for you. As Michael said, I'm terrified of all of this and if this stupid little thing called love destroyed what we have... I wouldn't know what to do. You're so important to me and I can't lose you, I just can't-"

He was cute when he was nervous. Usually Calum was the most confident person I have ever met. But when it came to talking about his feelings, he turned into such a soft, vulnerable person. While he was spilling his feelings, I realized how much he trusted me, because of the way he never hesitated to let down his walls in front of me.

And then it hit me.

The thought that we were definitely more than friends.

So I finally decided to do what I should have done months ago.

I grabbed his face and kissed his soft looking lips like I always fantasized to.

[nightklok]

For the angst prompts, something about #1 says Pickles to me. Bonus points if it’s not about Nathan (I love Nickles but it’s too close to what happened in the show in this case XD).

Angst Writing Prompts [Open] 

I am deeply sorry this took so long firstly! D: It was hard to not pick Nathan or Charles for this one tbh! But I think I found someone that actually fits for this more; Skwisgaar!

1. “You say you love me. So what? You wouldn’t be the first you most certainly won’t be the last.”

Trigger warnings: Drinking/alcohol use

Skwisgaar may not look like it but he was the type of person to fall head over heels in love. And who could blame him? Love was such a wonderful and sweet feeling that made him feel a thousand times lighter and feeling so much more alive than he ever had before. It was so much better than the meaningless one-night stands he had over the years; so it made all the more worth it to drop those one night stands at the drop of a hat the moment he fell in love.

And falling in love is what ended up happening when he met Pickles, the singer for the disbanded band Snakes N’ Barrels and now the new drummer for Dethklok. 

It wasn’t fast with falling in love. No, it crept up and slowly consumed him before he could even be aware he had fallen in love with a bandmate. It was something that never happened before and while the familiar warm feelings of falling in love surfaced, there also came the uncertainty. It was unprofessional though he was never one to follow rules. Though if he said anything and Pickles quit, it meant having to go through drummer (and possibly guitarist) auditions all over again. And Pickles felt like the perfect piece to their mismatched puzzle of a band.

But when was the moment he had fallen in love with Pickles?

They were alone in the apartment they called Mordhaus for the first time. Magnus and Murderface had gone to do some side gigs to earn them extra cash. Nathan was scouring around a different town with their recently made demos in hand to hope that some venue would let them perform. That left Skwisgaar and Pickles in the apartment alone. 

Pickles was going through a can of cheap beer and trying to write some songs while Jeopardy was playing in the background. He was one of the few that could write music but also one of the many that couldn’t exactly read what he wrote. It would mean Magnus, or Murderface would have to revise what he wrote and give him additional feedback if needed. Skwisgaar couldn’t read music for the life of him; he just simply went where the music flowed.

Still, he wanted to be of some use. He approached the drummer, “Hey, Pickle.” 

“Oh, hey Skwisgaar,” Pickles looked up at him with a grin that made his heart slowly pound for whatever reason, “What’s up?” 

“Uh, just wanteds to asks whats your doings...”  He answered. He had no idea why he even bothered approaching, “Or if you wanteds somethings.”

“Nah, I’m good. Thanks, though. But I’m trying to write whatever Nate left for me. Don’t know if I’m doing a good job but it’s something.” 

“Yeah,” He looked at the sheet of music that contained all sorts of random symbols and music notes he couldn’t read. What he wouldn’t give to be able to read music at the moment, “Maybes I can helps you..if you wants...”

“Sure. Just get your guitar, wanna see if this part sounds good.” 

Skwisgaar went to his room to pick up his guitar and sat down next to him,  politely rejecting the beer offered and tuned his guitar as the other got ready.

“Okay, you remember what Nate talked about right?” Pickles asked.

“Yeah, he wanteds the songs to be fasts...rights?” 

“And heavy too,” He answered. To any other people, fast and heavy wouldn’t mean a lot or carry a whole lot of weight but to them, it sure did mean a whole lot. 

“Okay, he told me he wanted my drums to kinda follow your lead so I’m trying to learn your part to figure out my own.” 

“Can you evens plays that fast?” The words tumbled out before Skwisgaar could think. For a moment, he feared that Pickles would be offended but thankfully he laughed instead and his fears quickly diminished. He never really heard him laugh before and it was actually cute.

“I am in this band so I think I can. Why don’t you go show me how you’re planning to play?” 

Skwisgaar nodded and once he felt he was ready, began to play. It was a fast progression as Nathan had wanted, no build up to it or anything to be able to prepare an inexperienced guitar player for such swift playing. Pickles seemed unphased, concentrating on how his fingers hit each note and studying each fret and string hit similar to studying for a test.

“It’s actually really good, Skwisgaaar,” Pickles smiled at him when he finished playing, “Why don’t you play it again and I try and keep up with the drums this time?”

Pickles got the drum kit ready, adjusting and doing whatever he needed to do. With a nod, Skwisgaaar began playing. It took a moment or two before Pickles quickly began to play. It was a little too fast and rushed but by the time they got the first verse done, a steady drum beat was made. It had kept up with Skwisgaar’s in a call and response kind of way and it worked surprisingly well. By the time they finished the song, there was the adrenaline rush from a good performance.

“I should’ve asked you to help out sooner, we really did it!” Pickles grinned at him and it made Skwisgaar’s heart beat rapidly once again.

“Oh it’s no problems,” Skwisgaar managed to say with a smile of his own.

“I’m gonna get us food to celebrate; you don’t know how long I’ve been stuck with this song, dude. I really owe you one!” Maybe Pickles was too wrapped up in his own excitement but he had given him a very brief hug before grabbing his car keys and leaving to grab said food.

Skwisgaar was alone with a very flushed face, rapidly beating heart and confused feelings.

______

Okay, so he was in love with Pickles. Totally fine. Totally okay. Totally not something that will backfire if all goes wrong.

He was one to confess feelings the moment he felt them but he had a feeling that it wasn’t wise to do it on the spot. He was impulsive but he also had to use his brain. And band romances are such a tricky situation to go through.

And as he got to know Pickles better, he also realized how much pain he had gone through.

From a family that never loved him to relationships that crashed and burned, he wouldn’t be surprised if he had sworn off falling in love. He already gave a feeling that he was hurt. And so badly did he want to help him. No person should be in that much pain internally but he didn’t know how to help.

He tried to initiate more contact with him as appropriately as he could. Brushing hands against him, leaning against him during movie nights, all that subtle stuff. He knew those things were platonic and the band was surprisingly casual about that stuff around each other. Pickles luckily didn’t seem to mind but most likely took it as a platonic thing.

There was one night where he drank a bit more than usual and got a little too brave. He rested his hand on top of his and didn’t know what to expect out of it. 

And this would happen various times after that night like Pickles realized something he didn’t want to realize. Anytime Skwisgaar touched him, there was a moment of comfort, like it was something he had craved and wanted for so long. But then the moment would disappear and he would excuse himself or move himself away. It was like he had put up a wall between them and he didn’t know how to get himself out of it.

So who could blame Skwisgaar if he decided that enough was enough and he should confess? Maybe Pickles needed the reminder that someone did love him. Not someone who thought of him as a one night stand but someone who had lived with him, gotten to know him, and fell in love with who he was as a person rather than idealized image people may have of him?

It must’ve been close to a year and Skwisgaar never stopped falling in love with him. He wanted him to know. He wanted him to know that he was who he thought about when he woke up or went to bed, how he fantasized kissing him or holding him close until they fall asleep. He wanted to kiss him and do all those lovey-dovey couple things that would never grow old. He just wanted to make him feel loved.

They were alone in the apartment once again but this time for the night. Nathan had gone to a family reunion, Magnus was going on some road trip with some friends and Murderface was spending the night with his old bandmates as it was their reunion or something. 

Skwisgaar asked Pickles if he wanted to watch a movie with him. And Pickles thankfully agreed. They sat on the couch of the living room, watching some horror movie that was on cable but neither were really paying attention. There were drinks and a box of pizza that sat half empty.

‘Hey, Pickle?”

“Yeah?” 

He had to say it. He just had to. It was now or never, “I ams in loves with you.” 

There was silence for the longest time before an answer was made that made his stomach churn, “How much did the guys bet you?” Was all Pickles said with a laugh drier than the wine he was drinking.

“Wha-no-I never tolds anyones! I’m serious!” 

“Skwisgaar, it’s a very funny joke but not really. Just drop it.” His voice turned bitter as he looked at him with confusion, hurt, and anger.

“I ams not. I reallies, reallies, do,” Skwisgaar said quickly, “I haves been in loves with you for a longs times.”

“Oh, really? Why?” 

“I...just ams! You’re talenteds and good lookings and nice to mes, it just happeneds!” 

“Dude, you’re not in love with me. Besides, you got other people to be with, no?” 

“No, I never evens had peoples over to fuck. Have you ever noticed me bringings in someones over for the nights?”

Pickles had to pause and realized that it was true. Skwisgaar hadn’t brought over anyone in such a long time. It still didn’t help words from coming out like he was convincing himself that it couldn’t be true, “How many times do you think people have said those things to me? So what if you said you love me? You wouldn’t be the first and you won’t be the last.” 

“What ams you so afraids of?” Skwisgaar had to ask.

“Me? I’m afraid of nothing, you just don’t know who you’re saying that stuff too.” The lights may have been off but it was easy to see the shine of tear streaks against his cheeks from the glow of the TV.

“...I don’t wants to hurts you, Pickle. Please.” Skwisgaar said and placed a hand on top of his. When Pickles didn’t pull away, he continued, “I...knows that it mights be difficults but you don’t haves to do anythings if you don’t wants to. It’s okays if you don’t haves feelings for me...Just wanteds you to knows.” 

For that moment, he could truly feel what Pickles must’ve felt. The fear of falling in love and the fear of heartbreak. He must’ve never known the feeling of falling in love and feeling like the world was just right for once. Their faces were close now. Skwisgaar reached a hand to touch the side of his face to gently pull him closer. He paused every so often to give the other a chance to back away or tell him to stop. He only moved forward when he felt him move closer to him until their lips touched.

It was soft and light but eventually turned deeper. The taste of wine and vodka was apparent but it didn’t bother either of them. There was warmth and a spark and it felt like falling in love for the first time. And it felt so, so, right to kiss each other.

And for that reason, Pickles pulled away. He didn’t even meet him in the eyes, his face flushed but seemed to be going through all sorts of emotions, “I-uh-gotta go. See you later.”

Skwisgaar watched as Pickles left before giving him a chance to speak. His own face felt flushed and he was probably running through the same emotions as well. It felt like they were just going somewhere, finally going a few steps forward, but now everything crashed back and they were probably back to square one.

Maybe other people would give up at this point. And maybe it was what Pickles expected; after all, any other person would label him a lost cause and move on to someone more worth their time. But to Skwisgaar, he was worth the wait for so much and more. He knew that there was something and he knew the other felt the same. He just had to go about this in a manner that would reassure him that he wasn’t going to give up on him and he wasn’t going to hurt him.

Despite the feeling of heartbreak, he still was in love with him. And he was determined to prove it to him no matter what.

[ubernoxa]

The Token: A GNR FanFic

Chapter 2: Guns N’ Roses

(Chapter 1)

Story Summary: Story inspired by the movie She’s the Man. A female Duff is tired of dealing with the bullshit of trying to make it on the strip as a female bassist.

Chapter Summary: Michelle aka Duff meets Guns N’ Roses along with a couple other familiar faces she wished she would never have to see again.

I was nervous at first.

I had Walter drive me until I was a few blocks away from the house I was supposed to meet them. Walter originally wanted to drop me off right in front of the address I was supposed to meet Slash at, but like a child not wanting his/her mom to drop her off in front of the school on their first day of high school. We compromised and he dropped me off five blocks from the address.

The entire walk and car ride I practiced lowering my voice in attempt to sound more like a guy. People must have thought I was crazy, and to be completely honest I probably was. I was walking with a sausage taped to my thigh. Kinda funny how a party trick I would use to mess with a drunk Macy could turn out to be so useful.

“Duff?” A curly haired guy answered the door.

I nodded my head and followed him into the run down house. I couldn’t decide which was worse, the smell or the roaches that acted as if they owned the place.

“You’re not a mute are ya?” The curl hair guy asked as he motioned me to join him on the ratty couch.

“No, but there are plenty of people who wish I was,” I felt my nerves relax as he laughed. At least he was buying the fact that I was a guy.

“You the bassist?” I turned my head to see a blonde scurry into the room and join us on the couches.

I held back a laugh as the curly haired guy sent the blonde a quick glare. It was clear that the blonde wasn’t following whatever plan they had made.

“Yeah, guitar and drums if needed too,” I slowly spoke every word trying to keep my nerves under control. Long story short is that when I get nervous I sweat. My greatest fear was that I would sweat so much that the tape would no longer be stuck to my thigh and my fake dick would fall to the ground. I don’t think I could ever recover from that.

“You hear that Steven? You better watch out,” the curly hair man teased causing the blonde, Steven, to playfully roll his eyes.

I had only met two of the members from the band, but I felt something. No I’m not saying I had a crush on them or something stupid like that. I’m not going to fall into that stereotype, plus I’m masquerading as a guy right now. What I felt was a click, something that put me at ease.

I immediately jumped to the thought wondering maybe I should have came here as Michelle. Maybe I would have felt the same click? I had to immediately shut down all of those thoughts. I had tried countless bands as a female and I was always treated the same way. Plus, to them I’m Duff, and that’s how it’s going to stay.

We talked for what felt like minutes, but when I checked the clock that hung on their wall, hours had passed.

They were a chill group of guys. I mimicked their movements and their body language as we spoke and joked. For the first time in a while I felt excited for a band. They weren’t watching what they said, they weren’t treating me like a dainty flower or checking me out. I was excited to be apart of whatever they were creating. I just hoped they didn’t suck.

“So we have a bassist, a drummer, and a guitarist....where is the rhythm guy and singer you mentioned?” I asked trying not to sound too anxious. This probably sounds silly but I was afraid to go pee. I honest to god didn’t know if it would sound different if I peed like a normal chick and peed standing up.

Before Slash could answer, two people I wished were strangers came plowing into the house.

“I’m just saying, he had it coming. Say what ya want Iz, but I’m not wrong,” I’m sad to say that I’ve met Axl and Izzy on several occasions. Long story short one of my previous bands and the Indiana boys didn’t get along. In my defense, who actually got along with Axl Rose.

I sat frozen on the couch as I felt the nerves shoot through me.

“Axl,” the ginger walked towards me and offered a hand to shake. I immediately took him up on the offer.

“Izzy,” I quickly shook his hand as well hoping to soon put plenty of distance between us.

I stood in silence as the nerves began to grow. Luckily the silence didn’t last long when Axl said, “Have you heard him play?”

Slash and Izzy shook their head no before.

“What have y’all been doing for the past couple hours?”

“Talking, getting to know Duff,” Axl rolled his eyes at Steven’s reply and walked over towards a water bottle to take a sip.

I felt Izzy’s eyes staring me down as I got my bass out. That’s when it clicked. He had to have recognized me, that or he was way to interested in my bass.

I stared right back at him daring him to say something. The last time we met, Axl called my band rock shit that burned his ears which was followed by a huge fight that ended up leaving a small dent in my bass. It still played well, hell I couldn’t tell a difference in the sound. I was quickly proven wrong as Izzy turned away to grab his guitar. I had to hide a giggle at the thought that he was probably too drunk or high to remember me.

After playing several cover songs I was directed to sit on the trashed couch as they left the room to what I assume was talk about wether or not I should join the band.

I was only sitting for a couple minutes before they joined me on the couch again.

“Nightrain?” I questioned as Slash handed me a bottle of what I assumed to be cheep wine.

“Welcome to Guns N’ Roses!” Slash cheered as he chugged his bottle.

I had no choice but to follow his lead, but instead I drank mine a little slower.

I felt the nerves return as the guys talked about throwing a small party tonight in celebration of finding their bassist.

“Y’all got a phone?” I asked before they could continue planning the event.

“Yeah, kitchen...why?” Izzy stared me down as he asked. There it was again, the Izzy stare.

“I gotta cancel some plans, I was originally going to stay at the place of this check I met at a bar last night. Plans have changed,” I shrugged looking at the pair.

“Who? You should invite her!” Steven seemed overly excited as he finished another beer.

“Macy, didn’t get a last name. Blonde hair, lives with a chick named Michelle and a guy named Walter,” I casually replied. I immediately regretted the odds as they left my mouth. My original intentions were to call Macy so she wouldn’t be so worried that they killed her or something, but I guess I was now calling her to cancel some plans.

“Yeah...we know them. Macy and Michelle are kinda hot. Walter though, he is....” Steven was immediately interrupted before he could continue talking.

“Walter is an annoying pain in the ass prick who thinks just because he has money he owns the place,” Axl spat the words out like vile.

“I bet his money is the only reason he is living with two chicks. He’s probably the reason why that bassist...fuck what was her name you just said it.....beings with an M..never mind she wasn’t that good so it doesn’t matter...anyway he’s probably told the bassist to stop playing so she did. He wanted that little thing all to himself,” I wanted to punch Axl in the face as he talked. I wanted to beat him till he begged me to stop, but I couldn’t. He couldn’t have been more wrong, and part of me was terrified to know who agreed with him. He was one of the reasons I had to dress up as a guy. All I could do was sit there and be quiet. He wasn’t the first person to piss me off, and wouldn’t be the last.

“Want to see my snake?” I shot my head over towards Slash who was now on the edge of his seat. It was clear he wanted to change the conversation.

To say he caught me off guard was an understatement. I took a deep breath and replied, “no thanks man I don’t swing like that.”

The room erupted in laughter. Was this a thing guys did? Show each other their dicks? If so I was fucked? Maybe it was a welcome to the band thing? Like an initiation? If I was Michelle I would have taken him up on his offer. He seemed nice and he was hot, so why not. Duff...Duff wasn’t into guys. Actually no, Duff was into no one. He was focused on music and didn’t date.

“I have a snake in my room...not my fucking dick,” I couldn’t help join the guys laughing, especially Axl who was on the verge of tears.

“Same answer, I don’t do snakes,” I tried to casually replied.

“Finally another fucking same person!” Axl cheered out loud.

“Good to know I’m not the only one,” I smiled back.

I knew nothing about Guns N’ Roses, but I’ve heard stories about Axl. I know how lead singers like to run the show. If I was on Axl’s good side, my life in the band was going to be a lot easier.

I watched Slash’s heart sink as he leaned back in his chair.

Did I feel bad? Yes, but there was no way I was going to willingly walk into the same room as a big snake with meat tied around my thigh.

By the time I got back from calling Macy, the guys changed plans to celebrate at a bar instead.

As I followed the guys into a bar, I quickly realized how fucked I was.

This wasn’t just any bar, this was the bar Pixie was known for hanging out at...or where known to frequent. I wouldn’t say I was kicked out of Pixie, the all girl’s pop/rock cover band, but I wouldn’t say I left on my own terms either. To make a long story short, they didn’t care about the music. They were only in for it for the guys. They were a cover band that was going nowhere, or at least that’s what I tell myself.

“What’s your poison Duff,” I jumped when Steven patted his hands on my shoulders.

“Vodka,” I quickly responded. Usually I had it mixed, but today wasn’t one of those days. Plus later in the night I could get water and disguise it as vodka. I didn’t want to get plastered and accidentally reveal that I was a girl dressed as a guy.

I joined Slash at a booth and we all immediately got talking. Just like earlier, the conversation flowed almost as fast as the drinks.

“I hope Pixie isn’t playing tonight,” Izzy casually said before looking at me.

THAT MOTHER FUCKER. He had to know I was actually Michelle.

“Why?” It was more of question as to why he was bringing them up instead of why he didn’t want to hear them play.

“They suck. I’m surprised that Michelle didn’t mention it to you. Her being another bassist in all. I assumed y’all talked,” Izzy spoke in a matter of factly tone.

“Didn’t know she played with Pixie,” I causally responded trying not to raise suspicion. Before I could ask how could things get any worse, the universe quickly answered that question.

“What the fuck you doing here,” my heart stopped when I heard Cindy’s voice. A voice I didn’t particularly want to hear tonight since she was the one who thought I needed to get kicked out of Pixie. How did she know it was me?

HOW?

“It’s a bar, we’re drinking. Don’t act like you own the place because you don’t,” Izzy casually answered. It was clear he was beyond done with the female singer. I felt relief flood through my bones as Cindy remained focused on Izzy.

“Who’s this,” my eyes followed the voice to see Betsie, the drummer standing next to Cindy.

“Duff, and he’s our bassist so stay the fuck away from him,” I remained frozen as I watched Betsie’s eyes light up.

Betsie, the girl I taught how to play drums.

The girl who was there for me when I thought I was pregnant. (Thank God I wasn’t. I was also a paranoid virgin at the time with a really bad sex Ed teacher...don’t ask)

The girl who fought to get me on Pixie. The girl who fought to keep me on Pixie when everyone else wanted me gone.

I could change my hair and my clothes, but I knew mannerisms would be the hardest part to change. I had a plan though...more of a thought, but there was still a thought so that has to count for something. I didn’t expect to run into my old band mate who did my makeup before every show. The band mate who knew exactly what my face looked like.

I saw recognition in her eyes the moment our eyes locked. This wasn’t like the looks I saw plastered on Izzy’s or Axl’s face. She knew exactly who I was. This was pure recognition of an old friend.

The friend who many blame me for the downfall of Pixie.

Yeah, I was fucked.

[jaxl-road]

Scar Tissue, chapter 12

Everything is on the table now, and our boys finally get to talk.

Pairings: Slash/Duff, side Steven/Vince, side Axl/Izzy, side Nikki/Tommy

Warnings: Discussed/implied past abuse (non-explicit)

~~~~~~~~~~~

The alley was dark.

A narrow pocket of shadow amongst the bright neons of the Sunset Strip, ignored by the masses which were drawn towards the lights like moths. Muffled music drifted from within brick walls, and the air was hazy with smoke which seemed to curl and part when the door opened, allowing a tall figure to slip into the darkness to hide.

Duff couldn’t help but breathe a sigh of relief as he ducked out of the club and into the side alley, the pulsing music and overlapping voices softening as the door closed behind him. His PCS was almost completely gone, but he still found himself prone to headaches if he lingered too long around all the flashing lights. Setting his bag and his bass down on a relatively clean looking patch of asphalt, he took out his cigarettes and lit one up as he debated his options.

He had made a decent amount of money from work and gigs this week, so he could probably afford a motel for a night or two. Was that the best use of his money though? If he kept couch surfing like he’d been doing he might be able to save more until he had enough for a deposit on an apartment. That was the better option as far as long term goals. Still, he sighed to himself as he exhaled a long stream of smoke, the idea of not being a burden on someone for a few nights was very appealing at the moment. He was so sick of being in the way.

Before he could come to a decision, the club door burst open, the bassist jumping at the loud ‘BANG’ as it hit the wall, his heart rate skyrocketing at the sudden noise.

“There you are!!”

Standing in the doorway was a scrawny young man with wild blonde hair, grinning widely. Duff found himself looking side to side, trying to find whoever the boy could be talking to, but it was just the two of them in the alley and the other blonde practically skipped over to him. For a moment, Duff was mortified- did he know this person? Oh God, he had no idea who this was, had they met and Duff had forgotten? Had Duff been drunk? Should he just act cool and pretend he remembered him or-

“Hi, I’m Steven!” The cheery blonde offered his hand, clearing up part of Duff’s concerns but not alleviating any of his confusion about the situation.

“Oh, um…” he shook his hand hesitantly, “hi?”

“You’re the bass player from the last band, right?” Steven pointed a thumb back towards the club, still smiling, and Duff is head and shoulders above him but he still finds himself wary.

“Uh, yeah. I’m Duff,” he introduces himself belatedly, “I’m not their usual bass player, I was just, y’know, filling in for the night.”

“I figured, I’ve seen you play with a few different groups. Listen, I’m in a band- I’m the drummer!- and we don’t have a bass player right now.”

“Oh!” Understanding dawns on him, “You want me to fill in for you guys?”

“No, I want you to join us!”

That has Duff blinking in surprise, “What, like, as a regular member?”

“Yeah!” Steven gestures excitedly, “I mean, the other guys will have to approve too- our singer can be a real hardass- but I think you rock!” The drummer must notice his hesitance, because he quickly rambles out, “Will you at least come jam with us? You don’t have to commit to anything right away. If nothing else I think it’d be a good time!”

Duff hums in consideration. He did miss being a regular member of a band. The days with 10 Minute Warning felt so far away now, and jumping between bands was getting tiring. And like the other man said, it wasn’t like he was signing a contract or anything. It was just a jam.

“...Yeah, okay,” he finally answered, “Why not?”

Steven cheered, “Awesome! It’ll be great, you’ll see!” He rattled off an address where his band had been rehearsing occasionally, and they agreed on a time to meet in a few days.

As the drummer turned to leave, Duff had a thought and called out to him, “Oh, hey, Steven?”

“Yeah?”

“What’s your band called?”

Turning around, Steven grinned widely.

“Guns N’ Roses!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It’s just starting to get light outside when Slash carefully extracts himself from Duff’s grip, moving slowly and gently, practically holding his breath in an attempt not to wake the tall blonde. Luckily, he doesn’t stir, and Slash is able to slip out of the room. It’s not that he wants to leave Duff- if anything, he feels a stab of guilt for leaving the embrace- but he really had to piss. Also, he was starting to worry that his growling stomach would end up waking the bassist before his movements would, and Duff seemed like he really needed the rest.

Once he finished with the restroom, he wandered into the kitchen. On the way, he noticed a figure sprawled on the couch in the living room. Pausing, he raised a hand in a quiet greeting as Izzy gave him a curt nod. Continuing to the kitchen, he reached into the fridge and grabbed a slice of leftover pizza, not bothering to heat it up or grab a plate. Taking a bite, he glanced back towards the living room. After a moment of mental debate, he left the kitchen.

Izzy was stretched out on the beat up couch, and Slash dropped down across from him, leaning against the opposite arm and casually letting his legs stretch on top of the other guitarist’s. Tilting his head, Izzy gestured at the coffee table where his rig was laying.

“Want some?”

It was a testament to how shitty the past few days had been, because Izzy never shared his stash.

Shrugging, Slash didn’t even try to resist, “Sure. Thanks.”

After a few minutes, once he had finished his pizza and felt the calm of the dope spreading through him, he felt ready to ask, “So. What’d I miss last night?”

“Not much to be honest,” Izzy replied, “I watched Nikki and Tommy get a few hits in, then they dragged him outside and I had to go stop Axl from destroying the dressing room. They seemed pretty damn pleased with themselves when they got back though, so if I had to guess I’d say the bastard is probably just a smear on the sidewalk outside the Whiskey now.”

Slash snorted, “Good.”

"Agreed," Izzy nodded casually.

There was another long silence, Slash opening and closing his mouth several times before finally voicing the question that had been biting him for hours.

“...How long have you known?”

Izzy sighed, leaning his head back against the arm rest to look at the ceiling. “A while,” he admitted flatly. Before Slash could ruminate too much on his answer, he tilted his head to look him in the eye, “Not because he, like, confided in me or anything. Duff didn’t tell any of us, it’s not like he only hid it from you or something.”

“Oh…” Slash feels a little ashamed at the relief he feels at that, but Izzy only shrugs.

“Axl just figured it out. Then he told me because he needed someone to talk to about it. I’m assuming something similar happened with Nikki and Tommy.”

Slash couldn’t help but snort, “God, what a fucked up club I’m apparently a part of. We should make t-shirts.”

“Don’t even fucking joke about that,” Izzy pointed his cigarrette at him accusingly, “If Tommy hears you say that shit he’ll actually make t-shirts. Then Axl will kill him, Nikki will kill Axl, I’ll have to kill Nikki, our bands will go to war like some fucked up Montague and Capulet shit with fucking Vince and Steven in the middle of it and all of that blood will be on your hands, you fucker!”

It felt odd to be laughing in the midst of all that had happened, but Slash couldn’t help it, “Oh come on, if you’re gonna use that metaphor at least make us The Jets and The Sharks!” he giggled. Maybe it was the heroin. Maybe he just really needed to laugh.

Too soon though, his chuckles died off, and he found his mind wandering back to darker thoughts, “Y’know,” he spoke slowly, “part of me can’t help but wish that I’d met Duff…” he waved his hand vaguely, “before,” he sighed. “I love him now. I really do. But I just… I wonder what he was like. I wonder what things would have been like if I had gotten to him first, y’know?” Izzy nodded knowingly, and Slash turned to him, asking casually, “Do you ever feel that way about Axl?”

Izzy takes a long, deep drag of his cigarette and holds it, keeping it in his lungs for so long it has to burn, before exhaling, “Axl doesn’t have a ‘before’.”

Slash closes his eyes as he mutters, “Jesus Christ...”

Across from him, Izzy shrugs, “Yeah.” He taps on Slash’s leg with his foot to get his attention, “It’s okay to wish he hadn’t been hurt, man. It doesn’t mean you love him less or anything.”

“I know, I know,” he sighed, “it just…”

“Sucks?” Izzy offered with a quirk of an eyebrow.

Slash huffed out a laugh, “Yeah,” he nodded, “It sucks.”

~~~~~~~~

“Hey, Slash! I have a question,” Tommy skipped over to the guitarist, “You have a pet snake, right?”

“Um,” Slash blinked in surprise at the unexpected question, “I have a couple, yeah, but they’re back at my mom and grandma’s place.”

“Cool, cool,” Tommy nodded, throwing an arm around his shoulders, “I’m trying to convince the guys that we should get a pet-”

Duff titled his head curiously, but before he could find out the rest of Tommy’s inquiry, a hand fell on his shoulder, tugging him to a stop.

Nikki grinned, “Hey, smoke with me for a sec. I haven’t gotten to spend time with my bass bro in ages.”

Nodding, Duff turned to let Slash- his boyfriend, holy shit- know what he was doing, but found himself blinking in surprise when he found the other man gone. A quick glance showed that Tommy was ushering him into the Motley Crue apartment.

“Come on, I promise Tommy wont get him into too much trouble,” Nikki joked, getting his attention again.

Duff chuckled, “I dunno man, the two of them together? I don’t think either of them are exactly known for resisting chaos.”

“Fair point,” Nikki laughed, passing him his lighter until they were both smoking casually. “So,” the dark haired bassist drawled with a smirk, “you and Slash finally stopped dancing around each other, huh?”

Snorting, Duff shrugged, “Apparently. It’s still pretty surreal to be honest.” He was still a little embarrassed at how quickly the terror twins had honed in on his crush when they first met, but their teasing had always seemed good natured at least.

Nikki patted his shoulder, “Slash is a good dude, he’ll treat ya right.”

Maybe it was the nerves, or exhaustion from the show, or exhaustion from the last 22 years, but Duff found himself replying softly, “Yeah...hopefully.”

Turning to look at him, Nikki didn’t look remotely surprised by Duff’s comment, but he still raised an eyebrow questioningly, “You think he won't?”

“I- No, not, not like that,” he waved a hand as he backtracked, “That came out wrong.”

“What did you mean then?”

“Nothing.”

“Come on,” Nikki crossed his arms, and Duff felt like his eyes were staring right through him, “You think he’s a good guy, right? That’s why you like him.”

“Yeah, no, yeah of course,” his hands gestured wildly as he tried to explain himself, “He’s great, it’s just, y’know, even great guys can only put up with so much shit y’know?” He grinned nervously, “I just meant that I hope I don't fuck up. That’s all.”

Nikki narrowed his eyes, but before he could respond, the guitarist in question was jogging over to them.

“Hey guys,” Slash smiled tensely, “I was wondering where you ran off to,” he said to Duff, weaving their fingers together.

“Oh, yeah, sorry,” Duff gave a nervous laugh. “just got caught up in conversation.”

“Bassist bonding, y’know?” Nikki grinned, taking a long drag of his cigarette and looking at Slash calculatingly.

“Yeah, I’m still trying to convince Mick to join me and Izzy for ‘guitarist get-togethers,” he replied.

“Oh, I definitely need to see that,” Nikki laughed, seeming to relax if just slightly.

Leaning heavier against Duff, Slash turned to him, “I’m pretty beat from the show. I was thinking maybe we could get out of here…?” he suggested with a sly smile.

Duff knew exactly what that meant, and he felt his stomach twist into knots even as he nodded, “Oh, yeah, sure, I-”

“Aw, don’t leave so soon!” Nikki interrupted, giving them exaggerated puppy eyes, “You only just got here,” sauntering around them, put his arms around them both, ducking his head between them, “At least stay for a few drinks.”

As he guided them into the apartment, Duff quietly sighed in relief. He was prepared to do anything Slash asked of him.

But it’d be easier if he had a few drinks in him first.

~~~~~~~~~~~

When Slash returns to his room about an hour later, he is carrying two mugs of coffee and Duff is laying on his stomach with a pillow covering his head.

“...Duff?” Slash whispers, just to be safe, “Are you awake?”

He receives a long groan in response, and he can’t help just let out a snort of laughter.

“I can’t decide if I want to never drink again or never be sober again,” Duff’s muffled voice eventually replies.

Slash shook his head fondly as he chuckled, “Well, I brought you coffee?”

Duff’s movements were tense and hesitant, turning and pulling the pillow away just enough to glance at Slash with one weary, sad eye. After a moment he reluctantly sat up, smiling weakly when Slash handed him his mug, giving a quiet “Thanks” before sipping the drink quietly and staring at his lap.

Sitting on the bed next to him, Slash allowed both of them a minute to just drink their coffee quietly. Duff raised one hand to press his fingers into the side of his head, cringing at what Slash was sure was an impressive hangover.

Keeping his voice soft, Slash jerked his head at the blonde, “How are you feeling?”

Scoffing, Duff ran his hand through his hair, “Fucking mortified,” he replied, voice dripping with self-loathing.

Slash blinked in surprise. He had meant to ask about how Duff was physically feeling, and had expected the bassist to jump at the opportunity to put off an emotional conversation. He wasn’t sure if the unexpected development was a good sign or a bad one.

“Why?”

Duff’s head snapped to look at him, face incredulous, “What do you mean why?” One hand flailed helplessly as he rambled, “My ex showed up and I was a coward and ran off with my tail between my legs, got completely plastered, and then tried to drunkenly jump you like some sort of fucking groupie or something!” He dropped his head roughly onto his knees, his words muffled but no less vitriolic, “And then I fucking cried! Just when I thought I couldn’t get any more pathetic…”

“Hey,” Slash doesn’t raise his voice, but he’s still firm as he tugs lightly on a strand of bleached hair, “stop that. That’s my boyfriend you’re talking about.”

Turning his head hesitantly, Duff’s face was a cross between confusion and hope, “We’re still boyfriends?”

“Wha- of course we are!” Slash cried in dismay.

“...Oh,” Duff sighed, smiling slightly before hiding his face in his knees again as he let out a huff of relieved laughter, “Fuck, man. I figured you were just, y’know, trying to let me down easy,” he waved a hand vaguely, the other still clutching his empty coffee mug.

Slash hesitates for a moment, but then he can’t resist slowly putting an arm around Duff’s shoulders, tugging him closer to lean against his side, “Duff,” he says softly, “all the shit that’s happened this week, and the things you told me… none of that makes me think less of you. None of that makes me... like you less.”

There’s no response at first, and he wonders if Duff believes him. After a minute of just sitting together, Duff finally turns to look at him. He holds his breath, waiting to see how the conversation will move forward. Then the bassist gives a slow, wry grin.

“I need a drink.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

He should probably slow down. He hadn’t eaten since before the show and the bassist was downing vodka like water. That was probably why he barely noticed when Axl linked arms with him and tugged him out of the kitchen.

“Seriously, it’s about time,” the redhead rambled, “Slash has been insufferable ever since you joined Guns. He practically had little cartoon hearts around his head every time you walked into a room.”

Duff chuckled, absentmindedly reaching out to snag another bottle of vodka he saw sitting on the coffee table. “I was convinced I didn’t have a chance with him,” he admitted.

Axl snorted as he scared off some groupies so they could sit on the worn down couch in the corner, “Please. I’m not kidding, day fucking one you could have said jump and he would've said how high.”

“Nah, that’s me,” he grinned, taking another shot from his bottle.

Taking a long sip from his own cup, Axl hummed in consideration, before grinning in excitement, “Oh man, I just realized I totally get to give Slash the shovel talk. I’ve always wanted to do that.”

Frowning, Duff looked at him in confusion, “What?”

“The shovel talk,” Axl repeated, “You know, the ‘you hurt him, I’ll hurt you’ lecture that dads give to dudes who date their daughters. Or so I’ve been told,” he shrugged.

“No I, I know that,” Duff shook his head, “I mean why would you do that with Slash?”

“Because Izzy kept saying I was the band mom, I called bullshit, and after like a week of arguing we eventually compromised on me being the dad.”

Duff nearly growled in frustration, “No, that’s not-” he shook his head, trying to pull his thoughts together, “The whole lecture thing is- I mean, if Slash did do something it’d be because I fucked up, y’know? You can’t threaten him or whatever for something like that.”

For a moment, Duff thought he could see actual flames in Axl’s eyes as the singer nearly slammed his cup down onto the coffee table, “Oh yes I fucking can.”

Eyes widening, Duff could only stare as Axl leaned forward and launched into a frantic rant, “I don’t give a fuck what you do, or think you do, or whatever. If he or anyone else ever lifts a goddamn finger towards you, you fucking tell me. Hell, if someone steps on your goddamn foot I wanna hear about it, do you understand? Tell. Me. Fuck, tell Izzy, or Steven, or fucking Nikki, anyone, I don’t fucking care, but you don’t keep that shit to yourself anymore, got it?”

Axl stared at him intently, and Duff could only gape in confusion, not sure how to respond to his snarling words. But before he had a chance, he felt a kiss on the top of his head, jumping as Slash rested his chin on his hair.

“Hey babe,” he sang, “I missed you!”

In front of him, Axl huffed, narrowing his eyes, “Um, rude? We were clearly talking.”

Slash glared right back, draping his arms over Duff’s shoulders, “Hey, he’s my boyfriend, so I get to call dibs.”

Even as he took another sip of Vodka, Duff couldn’t help but smile. Even after everything, he was still a hopeless romantic. Surely it was all worth it for the way his heart fluttered at that one simple gesture.

Right?

~~~~~~~~~

“Why are you with me?”

Slash can’t help but ask. They’re both on their second beers, silently agreeing to forgo the hard alcohol this morning. They also snagged the rest of the leftover pizza, the nearly empty box sitting open on the bed in front of them as they ate casually.

“I just mean,” Slash elaborated, “it doesn’t seem like you’re exactly… comfortable. With the whole dating thing. So why didn’t you just shoot me down?”

Duff shrugged, shooting him a smirk, “Because I liked you,” he says simply. He takes another sip of his beer as he considers his next words, “I couldn’t help it. You’re cool, and sweet, and talented. And despite, y’know, everything,” he waved a hand vaguely, “the fact that you are unfairly hot did not escape me either,” he grinned, chuckling when Slash shoved his shoulder playfully. “And then against all odds you actually liked me back, and I just...”

He looks down at his hands, peeling the label off his bottle as he admits quietly, “You kissed me and all my self-preservation went out the fucking window.”

Frowning, Slash put his drink down, leaning forward to try to catch Duff’s eye, “You know I’d never do anything to you… right? I mean, I don’t even like getting into fights with people I hate. I can’t even imagine…” he trails off, shuddering at the very idea of hurting Duff. He’s never hit any of his partners, and he’s not about to start now.

Duff hums in consideration, tilting his head and replying slowly, “...I know you’d never hurt someone who didn’t deserve it.” Slash feels his chest tighten, but before he can even begin to think of how to respond, Duff smiles slowly, quirking an eyebrow at him as he lifts his bottle to take another drink.

“All’s fair in love and war. Right?”

~~~~~~~~~

The vodka is really starting to hit by the time Izzy pulls him to his feet so Tommy can take his spot on the couch. Does that stop him from tipping the bottle back to get those last few drops?

Of course not.

He lets Izzy tug him to the other side of the room, Nikki already standing and smoking lazily. Duff nods at him in greeting as he leans heavily against the wall, blinking slowly as the room tilts around him. He’s almost drunk enough, he thinks. Almost.

“Duff.”

Shaking his head to try to focus, he turns to give Izzy his attention. The rhythm guitarist is frowning just slightly, “Duff,” he says again, voice soft, “I’m gonna level with you here. We’re worried about you.”

That has him furrowing his brows, “‘m fine, just…” he waves the empty bottle in his hand, “a little buzzed. That’s all."

“Oh we are definitely not talking about that,” Nikki chimed in.

“I meant we’re worried about you and Slash,” Izzy continued. Duff opened his mouth, but Izzy cut him off, “I know Slash. He’s a really good guy- I don’t think he’d ever do anything to hurt you on purpose.”

“What we’re worried about,” Nikki drawls, “is that he’ll do something by accident and you won't tell him.”

“But…” For a moment, Duff just stares, feeling the floor rock back and forth like a ship on the sea. Then he shakes his head slowly, his eyes drifting shut as he smiles softly.

“That’s what love is,” he explains, “It’s… it’s the people who are allowed to hurt you.”

When he opens his eyes, Izzy is looking at him with a sad, tired expression.

“No,” he says, “it’s not.”

~~~~~~~

“...Do you… still want to give this a shot?”

Duff’s head jerks up to look at him. The room is hazy from smoke, alternating between cigarettes and joints once they finished their beers, the empty pizza box shoved unceremoniously onto the floor.

Slash continues, “I really, really like you, man. But… I’d get it. If you’d rather, y’know, take a step back. You can, if you want, I won’t be mad or anything.”

Taking a deep drag of his cigarette, Duff thinks for a moment, exhaling slowly and tapping his fingers against his knee. When he finally answers, he smiles at Slash shyly, “Is it fucked up that I don’t?” He dropped the end of his cigarette into one of the empty beer bottles next to the bed, “I like you, yeah, but I also like… being with you. Even with the, y’know, stress and whatever, the last few weeks have been really… nice,” he explains slowly before glancing up at Slash out of the corner of his eye, “All this shit has kind of been my attempt at not losing this.”

Despite himself, Slash huffs out a laugh, twirling his lighter in his hand, “Is it fucked up that I’m kind of relieved?” He grins at him, “I don’t want to lose this either.”

Duff shrugged, “Eh. Maybe we’re both fucked up.”

This time, Slash laughs fully, “Yeah,” he reaches out to lace their fingers together, “Yeah, maybe we are.”

~~~~~~

The walk home was gentle. It was their arms around each other’s waists, supporting each other as they swayed, Slash peppering kisses along his shoulder and neck. The vodka keeps him loose and relaxed, and Slash keeps him smiling.

Back home, falling back onto the bed, Duff’s eyes drift shut. Even in the dark behind his eyelids everything still spins, but it’s a slow spin, more hypnotic than dizzying. It slows even more when he feels a weight rest gently on top of him, a soft sigh against his chest.

“Mmmm… Slash?” Duff muttered, turning his head to try to look at the guitarist, a mass of blurry curls blocking his view, “I-... ‘re you…”

Slash hushed him, wrapping his arms around his waist and rolling them onto their sides, tucking his head beneath Duff’s chin, “Long day,” he slurred with a smile, “Let’s just sleep now. I’ll take you on a date tomorrow,” he promised.

Duff can’t remember the last time he was on a date. He feels like he’s dreaming, laying in bed with Slash for the second time in as many days, his arms around him and nothing hurting.

“...Oh,” Duff let out a breath that he feels like he’s been holding since the day they met, “Okay,” he laughed a little, bringing a hand up to smooth back Slash’s wild curls, and he feels a kiss pressed against his shoulder, and warmth that he can’t name spreads across his body.

The guitarist’s breath evens out, falling asleep easily. Duff feels himself drifting as well, but he fights it off as long as he can, wanting to savor this unfamiliar feeling, trying to taste its name before it disappears.

Just as he succumbs to sleep, his tongue finally finds the name.

Safe.

[the--blackdahlia]

The Kidnapping of the Drummer

Title: The Kidnapping of the Drummer

Summary: Duff comes to Nikki for some help.

Warnings: Language, crack-ness

AN: Pairings are Tommy x Nikki and Duff x Steven.

It had been a few months since Vince had lost Tommy in a poker game, and Nikki never let him live it down. Every time Vince would argue with the bassist, Nikki would shoot back that with at least he didn't lose the drummer in a game, and it instantly shut the frontman up, instead making him huff and march off.

After that, Axl arranged to kidnap Tommy again just for the principal of the matter. It almost worked the first time, except Nikki came out to the pool of the hotel where Duff had been tasked to kidnap the drummer from.

One look at Nikki made Duff hold up his hands, say fuck it, and leave.

"What do you mean you just left him?" Axl growled when he found out.

"Bassist code man," Duff countered. "I ain't pissing off another bassist. Never know when I'll need some strings."

"Good idea babe," Steven smiled at the other blonde, and Axl rolled his eyes. 

"Shut up Steven." Axl snapped. Duff looked at the drummer and saw his shoulders slump. "Vince fucking needs to pay. We're going to get Tommy fucking Lee or so help me."

That led to the next few months of Axl trying to plan how to kidnap Tommy. And each time failed as miserably as the time before. Someone always foiled it,  and Axl stopped asking Duff to fetch. Duff noticed he never involved Steven in his plans though.

"You okay?" Duff asked, wrapping his arms around him and resting his head on his shoulder.

"Yeah I'm great," Steven replied. And he was smiling, but Duff could hear a hint of sadness in his voice. Steven had been struggling here recently, smiling less, wanting to sleep more, and not even really feeling like playing the drums. 

"You sure?" Duff asked, not really believing him. He knew Steven thought he was putting on a good face, but sometimes it would disappear, especially when Axl would yell at him, insult him, and Duff was about two seconds away from punching a certain redhead in his dick.

"Of course," Steven smiled and kissed his cheek before heading to the shower. Duff frowned. Steven had been struggling on and off with his mental health. Some days it was okay and he was smiley and happy, some days it was all he could do to get out of bed.

And it was later that Duff was starting to see why. Axl was pissy, because none of his plans had worked, so every little thing seemed to be setting him off.

"Fucking hell Steven!" Axl screamed. "Can't you do anything right?"

"But…" Steven started, but Axl stopped him.

"I don't want to hear any if your fucking excuses. You're literally this close to being out of this fucking band!"

"Axl, calm down," Slash tried to intervene, but Axl was already riled up.

"He cant even get a beat right! He's a fucking drummer! We get Lee, we're keeping him and sending Steven to them!" Duff looked over at Steven, who was looking down at his drums.

"Okay, that's enough. Back the fuck off," Duff growled. Axl rolled his eyes and went to talk to Slash and Izzy about some guitar riffs. Duff headed over to Steven. "Babe…"

"I gotta go," Steven quickly left the rehearsal area. Duff stood there, watching him leave.

"Where the fuck is he going?" Axl asked. Duff turned to glare at the singer. "Fine. Whatever. I have better things to do anyway." He grabbed Slash and they left. Duff wanted to go after Steven, but first, he had a stop to make.

****

"Hello?" Vince answered. Duff looked at the phone for a second.

"Vince? I thought I called Tommy and Nikki…"

"Yeah, I'm crashing here for a bit. Trouble in paradise and all that shit."

"Oh. Uh sorry man," Duff paused for a minute. "Well, can I talk to Nikki?"

"Him and Tommy went to Tower or something. I don't know." Vince sighed.

"Okay thanks." Duff hung up without even saying bye. He grabbed the keys to his car and headed out towards the strip. He figured that if the terror twins were shopping anywhere, it would be at the Tower on sunset. That's where everyone seemed to be going. 

And sure enough, as Duff made his way into the store, he saw two heads of dark hair towering over the bins of records.

"Yo, Sixx man," Duff made his way over to the two.

"Are you really trying to kidnap him now?" Nikki asked with a sigh. "He's so happy looking for vinyl."

"No. I come in peace," Duff explained. "In fact, I actually need a favor." Tommy looked up from the bin he was looking at and shared a glance with Nikki. "Can we talk? Please?"

****

"Okay, what's going on?" Nikki asked. The three of them went to the Rainbow for beers and burgers. Duff took a drink to calm himself before he started to call Axl every name in the book.

"I want you to kidnap Steven," Duff explained.

"What?" Tommy laughed.

"You guys are the kidnapping group. Not us," Nikki added.

"Axl keeps screaming at Steven all the time. And I'm afraid if he keeps it up…" Duff trailed off. Tommy and Nikki knew all about Steven's mental health issues. Tommy had went to pull a prank on the other drummer once. Walking into Steven and Duff's room, Tommy immediately changed his mind when he saw the normally happy blonde curled up in the middle of the bed, tears streaming down his face.

"So, you just want us to kidnap him and that's it?" Nikki asked.

"I'm coming with," Duff told him. "Steven and I need a couple nights together without Axl dictating when we can and cannot just be together. And maybe we could do a cool supergroup thing or something."

"I'm game, but we should probably talk to Vinnie and Micm," Tommy looked at Nikki.

"Vince is staying at our place. I'll call Mick and we'll all discuss it. Wanna come with?" Nikki asked.

"I really need to go check on Steven," Duff told them. "Call me when you guys come to a decision."

"We will," Tommy assured him.

"And trust me, I can be pretty persuasive." Nikki smirked at Duff. "I'm sure Vinnie will see it my way."

****

"You want to what?" Vince asked. Mick had a smirk on his face as Nikki and Tommy explained the plan.

"You had me at screwing with Axl," Mick nodded.

"So we're going to kidnap Steven, Duff's coming with him, and they would be willing to put out a song or two with us?" Vince asked. Nikki nodded. "Okay. Let's do it."

"I'm game," Mick nodded.

"You know I'm fucking stoked for this," Tommy laughed. Nikki smiled then went to call Duff to discuss the plan.

****

"I'll be late for practice," Duff told Steven with a kiss. "I have a few things I need to pick up. Just tell Axl to go fuck himself if he says anything."

"Oh, ok," Steven gave Duff a kiss back. "I'll see you in a bit?"

"Of course," he smiled as Steven got his keys and headed to practice. Once Steven was gone, Duff started to pack a couple of overnight bags for the two of them. He smiled to himself as he got everything ready.

He headed out of the house to where Nikki and Tommy were waiting in Nikki's car.

"Your chariot awaits fucker!" Tommy laughed. Duff flipped him off but had a smile on his face as he got in the backseat.

"Okay so Vince and Mick are waiting for us by the studio," Nikki explained. "Tommy and I are going in with them. You said Izzy knows, right?"

"Yeah. And if he told Slash, he won't say anything. They might be screwing but Slash wouldn't mind watching us piss Axl off."

"Then let's get this show on the mother fucking road!" Tommy laughed.

They pulled up in front of the studio. Vince and Mick were in Vince's car, arguing about something. Duff looked over at them then back at Nikki and Tommy.

"Vince probably turned Kiss on," Nikki explained. "It's a long story."

"What does he have against Kiss?" Duff asked.

"Its Mick. He hates things people like," Tommy laughed.

"Okay let's go get Steven," Nikki smiled at Tommy before giving him a kiss. The two got out of the car and motioned for the other two. "What were you two arguing about now?"

"Fucking Barbie played fucking Kiss," Mick grumbled. Nikki shook his head as they headed into the studio.

"Steven, where the fuck is Duff?" They heard Axl ask.

"He had to get something. I dont know…" the four looked at each other. The sadness was evident in his voice.

"Ok, let's go," Nikki commanded. He pushed open the doors to the room, causing Axl, Steven, Izzy, and Slash to look up. Izzy and Slash both started to smile. Axl started to laugh.

"You're  bringing him to me? That's awesome," he smiled.

"Eh, not quite." Nikki nodded. He watched as Slash and Izzy casually stepped in front of Axl, helping Tommy and Vince block him. Mick stood at the door. Nikki went to Steven. "Don't squirm." He grabbed the drummer and tossed him over his shoulder.

"Hey!" Axl called out.

"Nikki, what the fuck?" Steven asked.

"Just go with it dude," Nikki laughed. "Bye Izzy. Bye Slash."

"Bye fucker," Vince smirked at Axl before heading out with Tommy, Nikki, Mick, and Steven.

"Put me down," Steven tried wiggling.

"Chill out dude," Tommy laughed. He opened the back door of Nikki's car and Nikki deposited the drummer in the back.

"Hey babe," Duff laughed. Steven looked over at the bassist.

"What's going on?" Steven asked. "Why'd motley crue just kidnap me?"

"I asked them to," he waved at Mick and Vince as they walked away.

"Why?" Steven looked at Duff as Tommy and Nikki got back in the car.

"I'm sick and fucking tired of how Axl is treating you," Duff explained, cupping Steven's cheek. "I can't lose you. So if that means hanging out with the terror twins for a few days, so be it." He saw the tears in Steven's eyes  but the smile on his face. "I love you."

"I love you too." Duff leaned in and kissed Steven. Tommy and Nikki smiled at each other before Nikki drove them back to their house.

****

Axl was pacing in front of Izzy and Slash. The two guitarists were getting a little sea sick watching him.

"Why Steven?" Axl asked.

"What?" Izzy raised an eyebrow.

"He has nothing to do with this. Why take him? Like if anyone, they should've taken Slash...no offense."

"Uh huh. Sure," Slash grumbled.

"And where the fuck is Duff?" Axl asked.

"Maybe they grabbed him too?" Izzy suggested. "You know, go big or go home?"

"It makes no fucking sense!" Axl sighed.

"They'll escape on their own at some point," Slash shrugged. Him and Izzy looked at each other and smiled.

"Wait, do you two know something?" Axl asked.

"Nope," Izzy and Slash shook their heads.

"I don't believe you…" Axl shook his head. "But I'm too tired to figure it out."

****

"Why are we doing this again?" Steven asked as he stood with his head over the sink as Tommy rinsed his hair.

"Because it'll be funny," Tommy told him. "And this will come out the next time you shampoo."

"I gotta say, I'm pretty hot with black hair," Duff admired himself in a mirror.

"Is it going to make me permanently like this?" Steven dried his hair with the towel Nikki handed him.

"Nah. Might darken slightly for a bit, but that's it." Nikki told him. "But we're not guns, so we can only have one blonde bitch in our band."

"Someone will be very upset if we take his barbie title away from him," Tommy chimed in. Steven and Duff started laughing. Tommy and Nikki shared a look, happy to see Steven actually smiling and laughing.

"So I have a song that will sound really cool with dueling drums and bass," Nikki explained. "And I have a camera and want to take a new band picture."

"I can't believe we're members of motley crue," Duff laughed, wrapping an arm around Steven's waist. "Axl is going to die when he hears about that."

"Well, since we got the hair done, I think we can do our song tomorrow to piss Axl off," Nikki smiled at them. 

"Come on," Duff grabbed Steven's hand. "Because you're pretty fucking hot with dark hair." Steven laughed and followed Duff towards the guest room they would be staying in.

"Those two," Tommy shook his head. Nikki came up behind him and wrapped his arms around him.

"You know, you're hotter, right?" He kissed on Tommy's neck.

“Oh, you think so?” Tommy asked with a soft moan. Nikki nodded against him and smirked.

“Let’s go to our room,” Nikki told him. “We have some things we need to do.”

****

It was about three days later when Steven was washing the black out of his hair that Axl came knocking. Vince and Mick looked up from the game they were watching. Nikki patted Tommy’s leg, having the drummer stand up from where he was sitting on Nikki’s lap. Duff and Steven were still back in the guest room and bathroom. Nikki answered the door, seeing the redhead standing there with Slash and Izzy behind him.

“I give,” He sighed.

“Excuse me?” Nikki asked, trying to hide the smirk on his face.

“I give up. Let them go,” Axl sighed.

“We’re not keeping them here,” Nikki told him. “They want to be here.”

“Can I talk to them?” Axl asked. Nikki looked over at Tommy and nodded. The drummer went to get the two others. Soon, Tommy was coming back with Duff and Steven.

“Axl,” Duff crossed his arms over his chest. “What are you doing here?”

“Rescue,” Axl nodded. “Brought help.”

“We don’t want rescued,” Duff snapped. “In fact, I think we’re going to stay being apart of the Crue.”

“What? Why?” Axl asked.

“Well, for starters, you’ve been such a dick to Steven,” Duff pointed out.

“Isn’t he a dick all the time?” Vince piped up from the living room.

“Not helping!” Nikki called to the frontman.

“I’m sorry,” Axl sighed.

“I don’t believe you,” Duff shook his head. “I put his mental health and happiness over the band. You screw with him, you lose a bassist and probably a drummer, because I’m not letting him stay alone in the band with you.”

“I’m sorry I was such a dick to you Steven,” Axl looked at the drummer. “Will you guys please come back?” Steven looked over at Duff with a smile on his face.

“I never thought in a million years I’d live long enough to hear Axl Rose apologize,” Steven teased. “Yeah, we’ll come back.” Duff smiled and kissed Steven’s cheek.

“Hey Rose,” Vince walked up to Axl and slapped a picture against his chest. “Be on the lookout for our new single.” Axl pulled the photo back from his chest and his mouth hung open. Tommy and Steven were enveloped in a massive drumset, Steven with hair as dark as Tommy’s. And then, the two bassists, both with matching, feathered black hair, looked like they were annoying the ever loving shit out of Mick and Vince.

“What the fuck?” Axl asked.

“Yeah, that’s Motley Crue,” Nikki shrugged. “Got any guitarists that would want to join, we welcome them with open arms.” He looked over at Slash and Izzy. “In fact, I don’t even think we’d have to dye their hair.”

“No. No way. Let’s go,” Axl motioned for the band. Slash, Izzy, and Steven started to follow. Duff hung back and looked over at Nikki.

“Thanks again man,” Duff told him. “It’s great to see Steven happy.”

“Anytime,” Nikki smiled. Vince nodded.

“All you gotta do is say you want to screw with Axl, and we’re game,” He laughed. Duff smiled and followed the rest of his band out the door.

Forever Tags: @anathewierdo @dekahg @marvel-af-imagines @feelmyroarrrr @nanie5 @imboredsueme @gemini0410 @aiaranradnay @babypink224221 @mogarukes @xxwarhawk @sandlee44 @shatteredabby @caswinchester2000 @supernaturalwincestsblog @lauravic @mrsambroserollinsacklesmgk @teller258316 @horrorpxnk @tommyleeownsme @marvelismylifffe @mrslogansixxpixx

Motley Crue Tags: @primal-screamer @waywardprincess666 @twistnet @saint-of-los-angeles @vader-kai @motleyfuckingcruee @sharon6713 @kawennote09 @2dead2function @nikkisixxwiththebass @iamtiber-andtiberismusic @jayprettymuchomw @charlyallise @you-know-im-a-dreamer @sweet-dreams-on-butterfly-wings @estxxmotley @arianareirg @the-normal-potato @nikki-sixxtynine @jjjjjjjoshdun @just-a-normal-fangirl18 @stella20131991 @tarahell @wowilovenikkisixx @i-want-to-shoot-myself @motleycrueee @sams-serialkiller-fetish @getbackhonkycatt @are-you-reddie54321 @flamencodiva @deacyduck @scarecrowmax @major-tom-is-a-junky @anyasthoughts @bandaids-not-groupies @ilovetomkeiferslips @kaitieskidmore1 @useyourillusion @xpoisonousrosesx @slash-me-up

[okayohay]

I Just Wanted To Be Edgy Too

You can find this ongoing fanfiction on Wattpad here, but for the sake of the fandom, I wanted to share the first chapter on Tumblr, just in case you’re bored and want a fanfic to binge on. I started writing this a longggg time ago and decided to change the names and post it as a “fanfic” last fall. I’m absolutely humbled by the amount of people who have read it and reached out, and wanted to extend the story to a new audience. Please let me know your thoughts! Enjoy!

I Just Wanted To Be Edgy Too

Status - ongoing (Eighty-Six Chapters)

Rating - IDK, R I guess.

Chapter One

Van

I sometimes forget how much I love Benji Blakeway.

I forget how deep the span of our boyhood goes, and how much of his adolescence rubbed off onto me, and vice versa. I forget that he's been at my side since we were kids, dodging punches and sharing cigarettes in parking lots. I forget that he sat through every break up and proclamation of new love I announced. He was one of the first people I ever got drunk with, one of the first people I told when I kissed a girl for the first time. For all intents and purposes, he was my brother, just as good to me as my best friend, Larry was in more ways than not.

Sometimes I forget all that, but tonight, tonight I'm reminded why I love the bloke.

His fingers pick up when he hears me slowing down on my guitar and hesitating on my words. If the crowd notices, they say nothing, but Benji can hear it, sense it even. I'm belting what's left in my lungs into a mic that shorted out a few times already. Maybe if I could stay in one place and not get tangled in the cords littering the stage, it wouldn't be a problem, but that's another story. Benji senses my lag in the chorus, and hears my breath as I plow my fingers through the strings harder. If they hold up until the end, we'll have one hell of a send off, but if they split, if any one of them breaks before it's over, we're going to call it a night early. I've had to improvise a finale before. I've played through the final bridge with an air guitar while Benji kept the beat along with Bob's drums. In those moments, everything relies upon Johnny Bond, my lead guitarist who depending on his mood, might give some or might give all.

I didn't want tonight to be one of those nights. I didn't want tonight to be an air guitar night. Tonight needs to end on a high note, which brings me back to Benji.

My mic shorts out again just as my voice cracks on the high note, and without hesitation, Benji dives in, cutting through the roar of the crowd and the deep spine of Bob's drums. His bass shrugs its shoulders off Bondy's finale, and he delivers the background vocals with such prestige, that I don't even need to sing my part. The audience is doing it for me. I raise my hands over my head and clap along to the beat Bob's conveying. Benji tosses me a knowing smile, and for a moment I lose track of it all. I'm not on a stage in America, in front of thousands of screaming people, I'm in a basement with the boy who turned out to be a rockstar a decade later. He's still a mess of curly hair and quiet jokes, and I love him for all of that. I shake my head and I'm back in the now, as Benji leads the crowd into an encore of madness. Bondy's guitar echoes off the snare drum casually, and I catch a glimpse of his eyes on me. I know that look. He's waiting to see my next move, waiting to see how this will play out, and I decide to make tonight about Benji.

I wrap my free arm around Benji's neck, my guitar hanging loosely from my side, grip his mic and sing into it with him. The uproar from the crowd ensures me it was a good move to make. Benji laughs as his elbow narrowly avoids my rib cage, and I slice my fingers through my guitar strings, pelt out the last line, and point at Benji during the send off.

I fucking love Benji Blakeway.

The lights stay low as the song ends, the boys bow after throwing out picks and drumsticks. I stay for a moment and clasp my hands over my mouth, sending kisses into the air as I drape my guitar around Larry, my best mate turned guitar tech. He tosses a black towel over my neck in return and I duck into the small room to the left of the stage.

My tour manager, Steve, tosses me a water and I finish it in one long swig, wiping my lips with the sleeve of my button down shirt. He hands everyone else a water and congratulates us on another good show. I think he uses the term well played, but I black out as he attempts to manage us. I don't need managed right now. I'm high on the euphoria that happened minutes ago, and I'm not ready to let the politics of what I do ruin that yet. I reach for another water and run the towel through my damp hair. I'm soaked in sweat like I am after every gig we play. I run the towel along my neck and take a deep breath. I turn on my heel and see my band mates doing the same. It takes a moment for us to catch our breath, and once we have, we immediately exchange screams and pats on each others backs. For a second, it feels like we're new again. It feels like 2015, when we were riding the coat tails of a newly released album and promoting it worldwide. I feel younger, bolder even. At some point during our run, I grew up. I can't tell you when it happened. Maybe it was after the second album catapulted us into extreme success. Maybe it was at the end of a relationship with a woman I thought I'd have forever. Maybe it was just age.

Tonight, it felt like it used to. An ease. Benji reaches for two bottles of beer from the fridge and hands me one on a smile. We exchange glances for a moment, the unspoken bond of boyhead tapping lightly on our shoulders. Bondy grabs a beer for himself and tosses one to Bob who fumbles with it, but eventually secures it in his grasp.

"You two going to make out now, or what?" Bondy's tone cuts through the atmosphere sharply and we all laugh and clink our bottles together.

"Well played, Blakes." I say as I bring the bottle to my mouth, the beer going down much easier than it should.

"Well sang, McCann." He replies and we laugh as Bondy imitates the screams from the door behind us.

**

Sometime after I'd lost count of how many beers I had, I find myself outside, leaning against the brick wall of the venue. I hit my fag like it's a joint, and I wish it was. Maybe we were in Chicago, maybe we were in Milwaukee, maybe it didn't matter. The days started bleeding together in 2016, and they never really stopped. The word on the street was that we wouldn't be home for Christmas this year, not that I had anyone to be home for, but I saw the dissatisfaction in Bob's eyes when he overheard Steve setting up holiday shows and booking interviews. I saw the concern spread across Benji's face, but he wiped it away when he caught me looking. I could sense their stress even when they were doing their best to hide it. Sometimes I wish they would just feel it, just let it live.

I blew out a lung full of smoke and pressed myself further into the wall of the building. It was cold for early fall, but it felt oddly like home and I smiled lightly at the thought. Even though I had no one there other than my Mum and Dad, it still stung knowing it would be sometime after the New Year before I really spent time with them again.

I was interrupted by the slamming sound of the metal door crushing into the wall next to me. I backed away instinctively and brought the fag to my side. The loud booming voice of our opening act echoed off the metal of the door, and he had a women draped around him that looked barely legal. I held my tongue at all the things I wanted to say to him. I was him once. I was just like he was for many months and it cost me a lot of good things in my life. I wish I could warn him about it, but him and I...we don't dig each other.

I swallowed the bile that was rising in my throat as he looked at me and threw shade.

"McCann...keep this between us okay? Promise?" He motioned to the girl wrapping herself around him. I knew what he was getting at. His girlfriend would be joining him on tour in a few days, and he didn't want her to know about any of this.

I nodded at him once and finished my fag.

The first thing you should know about me, is I'm terrible at keeping promises.

[elopez7228]

Scenic Route 9/47

Read on AO3 : https://archiveofourown.org/works/18268208/chapters/43229774  

Start over : https://elopez7228.tumblr.com/post/620919089893933056/scenic-route-0147

***

The telephone blared again. He was standing in front of the bay windows which, fittingly, looked out onto the San Francisco Bay. It was drowning in fog as usual, in the swirling tendrils re-emerging from the ocean. The red headed man stood frozen in place. The ringing recommenced. He didn’t make a move. It began once more. He ignored it.

Once the device on his polished desk finally shut up, Hux checked his watch briefly and retrieved a cellphone from his pocket. She responded.

“Phasma.”

“I’m listening.”

“I hear there has been a development.”

“Everything has been set in motion. The car is heading north. Ms. Skywalker has booked a flight, the Tico sisters closed up shop and are headed south.”

“Where are you?”

“Following the car. The driver is a girl I don’t recognize. She must be a new recruit. English accent, has a dog with her. Haven’t been able to ID her yet.”

“Photo?”

“I sent it to you.”

“I’ll look into it. Anything else?”

“Yes.”

Her breathing quickened as though her heart had just skipped a beat. Hux froze, not daring to breathe. She would have to spit it out sooner or later.

“Sir, I...I was caught red handed. The girl made a scene out in the middle of the street too, she’ll probably gut me alive if she sees me again.”

Hux cursed under his breath. Whoever this girl was she was a fresh recruit for Earth Soldiers. Ever since he began dealing with these eco terrorists he had noticed that their mascot of a car rarely ever appeared, and even when it did it was always in the hands of the old-timers. And no one that he knew of ever got close enough to Leia Skywalker.

The moles that he had planted with care, excellent professionals like Bazine Netal, Boba Fett,  or Lando Clarissian never approached Skywalker level. Not even after months of distributing flyers and manifestos as stand-in rebel scum. Some were even kidnapped or worse...others switched sides. Hux slid his thumb over the screen to observe the photo Phasma had sent.

His eyes widened. She was young, likely under thirty, clad in denim and boots. Her demeanor entirely jaded.

She had been observed talking discreetly to Rose Tico, then spotted again at Leia Skywalker’s hideout, and finally caught in the act of driving the Millennium Falcon.

That made no sense. The heart of their pathetic born-again organization was in Denver, centered around old woman Skywalker. Her every move was monitored. Where did this girl come from? Who had trained her? How was she able to escape all of the eyes on the field until now?

He closed his eyes as his hand tightened into a fist. He had to regain control of his breathing. He held the phone to his ear again.

“Phasma.”

She was still on the line. No one hung up on Armitage Hux.

“Sir?”

“Come back. Don’t give her a reason to sound the alarm. Who else is in play?”

“Ren. And his clique.”

“Come to my office first thing tomorrow morning.”

“Yes sir.”

Hux hung up. Then he composed a series of directives to send from his smartphone. The Tico sisters had disappeared. They had to be located, never to be out of sight. Leia Skywalker was on 24/7 watch, they had to know where she was, what she was doing, what she was carrying, who she was talking to. The entirety of Earth Soldiers was moving at once, like a disoriented nest of ants. Connix, Antilles, Milham...he was had received notifications sent by his field agents from all over Colorado. But he knew it was merely a distraction. Skywalker would end up in California sooner or later. It was only a matter of time and patience.

His phone vibrated in his hand and he paled at the caller ID. Snoke.

The president of the First Order was certainly already aware of the movement of the activist group, he demanded a full debriefing.

Hux pursed his lips, placing his hands behind his back. He didn’t quite know what was going on himself, he hadn’t succeeded in figuring out the rebel strategy. But he was confident in his ability to counteract their plans, whatever they were.

Nevertheless, he wasn’t sure what to tell Snoke. It would have to be enough to let him know that the situation was being handled.

Taking a deep breath, he adjusted his uniform cuffs with impeccable precision and cleared the surface of his desk.

“Stop, Syed,”

Ben’s voice was frigid and it made the rocker’s eyes widen. The Kylo and the Knights crew were catching up at a bar in Pinedale, Wyoming. Kylo was there of course, along with the six other musicians.

Their guitarist, who went by Syed Ren, was grinding against Kylo’s shoulder while she traced his neck with a trail of tender kisses—which he had just rejected.

Syed was a woman of intriguing beauty, her flawless bronze complexion glowing softly under the red and blue neon lights. Her curls rose over her temples in a crowning mohawk, revealing her pierced ears and the elegant curve of her neck.

“What?” she demanded. “Are you done sulking? What’s up with you these days?”

Ben shrugged, fiddling with his phone. It hadn’t left his side in days, and she had noticed. She took it from his hands.

“You’re glued to this thing twenty four hours a day. Are you expecting a call or what?”

His eyes darkened and he held out his hand for Syed to give back the iPhone, but she kept scrolling through the contents while ignoring his glare.

She stopped at a random photo, her gaze turning ice cold. It was the picture of a young woman, definitely taken without her realizing because it was blurry and misaligned. Where had she seen her before? That freckle-faced brunette with the messy topknot and the large knapsack. Her face was oddly familiar.

It slid out of reach as Ben snatched it from her and locked it before slipping it into the pocket of his jeans.

“Don’t ever do that again,” he warned, and she could tell he wasn’t kidding. “Our little cover story shouldn’t make you forget why we’re here. If you can’t manage, I’ll find someone else to get the job done.”

“Okay, I get it, my bad,” she grumbled.

But she proved incapable of keeping all the venom out of her voice. “But you didn’t mention anything yesterday while you were enjoying yourself in my bed. Or any of the other times, for that matter,” she hissed.

Ben’s gaze hardened. “I thought we agreed that there were no strings attached here. No feelings between us and definitely no jealousy. Instead, I need you to be professional for once. This is the first and last time I’ll tolerate what you just pulled.”

“Go fuck yourself, Kylo fucking Ren,” Syed spat, knowing still that the conversation was over. Before he was her lover, he was her boss. And he demanded absolute discretion and loyalty. He wouldn’t hesitate to get rid of her for the smallest mistake.

She raised her bottle to her lips and turned to Saul Ren. But her conversation with the drummer took a rather debauched turn.

“If you’re feeling lonely tonight Syed, I’m happy to provide my services,” he offered.

“Shut up!”

Strangely enough, this cynical exchange greatly de-escalated the situation and Syed remained silent afterwards. She approached the circle of fellow rockstars to find them playing a casual game of pool. The ladies, Kelsi, Shakti, and Tyra, were far ahead of the gents, Skylar and Saul. The score would have been more even if Kylo had decided to play. The man was talented with a cue in his hands. Looking around, Syed noticed that he was far off, leaving the bar with his phone in hand.

Leaning against the wall, he lit a cigarette.

Syed was right. He was waiting for a call.

But just what was he hoping would happen? He wasn’t even sure she had found his number where he had stashed it. And even if she had found it, she surely would have thrown it away, cursing the arrogant and meddlesome Ben Solo. And she would be right. He went too far when he called her ex, that Finn guy.

Ever since she was at the mercy of the wheels of his car, he had stopped thinking rationally. The minute he had looked at her, something had collapsed.

Destabilized by her red-rimmed golden eyes (had she been crying too often?) and by her English accent which had taken him by surprise, he had lost his faculties and purposely scared her off. That would put some safe distance between them. But what was he safe from? Her smile? Her tears?

When their eyes had met from across the room at Howl at the Moon, his heart had skipped a beat. He’d tried to keep a neutral expression, but it had been so obvious that even Syed has belatedly realized that something was up with him. A twitch here, a shaky exhale there—she had felt it and she had instantly hated the intruder who had come between her and Kylo.

Ben had wanted to stay on top of the situation, but he had found himself discarding Syed and walking directly towards Rey in a single motion. It was magnetic.

She was slightly drunk and their conversation was marked by a caustic sort of tension by the time he lost control. She had left and he had chased after her, as though trying to break through the surface of something after being plunged deep inside for so long.  

When she knocked herself senseless against that streetlight, all he had to do was drop her off at some motel. Or just call an ambulance and trust the authorities to take care of the rest. But his curiosity had gotten the better of him and the excuse was too good to pass up. So he dialed Jessica from his own contact history and asked his way into Rey’s life. Now he knows who she was and why she was here.

He hailed a cab to the Four Seasons and booked her a room. But a voice inside his head warned him that the situation was getting out of hand.

She wasn’t just some well-meaning tourist looking for kicks. She was definitely someone else. She had immediately contacted Rose Tico, someone he had already been following. The next day she had ended up at Leia’s and then she had taken off with BB8 and the Millenium Falcon.

Ben had reported his findings to Snoke, and he knew that Phasma was on the trail. His task was done. But he remained on the look out, ready to strike at the president’s word.

It was all too perfect to be a coincidence. She probably threw herself at his car on purpose. She was a rebel spy for Earth Soldiers and had made the whole “damsel in distress” persona up. And it had worked perfectly—hook, line, and sinker.

That was real mistake on his part, a weakness.

Rey was a weakness he could no longer permit. She was a trap and he had fallen for her.

His phone rang, snapping him back to reality.

[snarkwriteswrasslin]

FFT: Waiting for Your Friends to Leave

So, this came to me in the grips of Elias thirst. So, apologies if he’s not exactly your first choice or anything. Either way, I hope you enjoy reading this, I truly enjoyed writing it as it came to me. Thank you so much for sending this.

NOTE: apparently, Baron and Elias are bikers in this. Elias is also a musician who plays guitar in a biker bar? IDk... I went with it. Anyway, enjoy? Hopefully?

The guitarist, Elias wasn’t conventionally her type by any means. But it didn’t stop her from looking twice. And then a third and fourth time. It didn’t stop her from striking up conversations and having drinks until last call at the little bar they all currently sat in.

 And when he took his guitar out and took to the stage, starting to play - after flashing her a wink and a nod, Nina fanned herself with a stack of napkins sitting forgotten on the table in front of her. It was enough to catch the attention of her on again and off again -currently off if one were to ask her, boyfriend Baron, who stood nearby, poolstick in hand. Baron’s head swivelled and he glared angrily at the guitarist sitting on the makeshift stage at the front of the bar. 

“I’m about sick of your whole thing with that fuckin guy. You’re wearin my leather. You know what that means, right? Answer me, Nina.”

“Baron, if you say one more word, I swear to God... You always do this. You always say no fights and no losing your temper and you never mean it! He’s just a friend, anyway. You probably just ruined that.”

Maybe it was an overreaction. It had to be, all their friends, the bikers he rode with were watching it all unfold. Old ladies didn’t normally... talk back. Make waves.

Especially not over a stranger. An outsider pledging the MC, at that. Especially not when said Old Lady already had the second in arms as her ‘man’.

Nina gulped and took a deep breath, sighing and shaking her head. “What are you all fucking staring at?”

Baron echoed the sentiment, and Nina went to step past him but he caught her elbow. “We’re good, right?”

“I don’t know anymore, Baron. I just don’t know. I’m tired. Of all this.” with the words said, she tossed his cutte at him and slunk out of the doors to the bar, leaning against the wood and brick exterior, staring up at the sky. She had to laugh at herself when it hit her, why had sh e really done that?

Because she wanted to be free. Because she was sick of being with a man who saw her as a possession and not an equal. Who saw her as an arm candy, a glorified trophy, a notch on his bedpost. For a split second, common sense kicked in. Ending things with Baron was scary as hell.. For one thing, it meant that she took the risk that she might potentially be making a huge mistake.. What if she regretted it later? Baron probably already had another woman waiting.

... your mother was right... you’re not exactly pretty and you’re not smart either... these men could keep you safe... these men are literally all you have left... this life is your only option... did you think that guitarist was just gonna stop playing, follow you out?

An hour stretched out to what felt like days, maybe even an eternity. But the bikers piled out into the night, straddling their bikes. Baron didn’t even give her a second glance and Nina shivered at the cold night air. She wiped at her eyes and took  a shaky breath. If this is what Baron wanted, then she wasn’t going to fight it anymore.

She was fine without him, she’d be fine without him again. She found herself lingering, why, she wasn’t sure. Her eyes were fixed on the door of the bar intently.

She just wanted to explain to Elias that Baron was out of line.. To see if Baron had cost her yet another friend. He was good at that. She’d almost given up on seeing Elias, but he came out with the owner of the bar and a few of the other musicians that played laughing and talking.

Nina hung back, waiting... her heart beating in her chest almost fast enough to make her dizzy. She’d almost given up the hope of explaining things and salvaging their budding friendship, but just as she walked off, Elias called out to her, jogging to catch up, casually slipping an arm around her and flashing her a fond smile.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah, I was just... I wanted to apologize. For Baron’s bullshit earlier.. Then you came out with the other guys and I figured I’d just go... I... yeah.” Nina stammered apologetically and Elias sighed, shaking his head. 

He pulled her close, both arms slipping around her. “ I wanted to tell you that the song earlier was for you.. But waitin on your friends to leave... I didn’t wanna do anything that might make that halfwit take shit out on you.” 

Nina swallowed hard, eyes widening as she slow blinked. “Wait, huh?”

“That song.. I wrote it for you.” Elias chuckled, raising a thick digit to rake it slowly across her lower lip. “Do you need a ride home, princess? My bike’s over there.. No sense in you walking and freezing your ass off.”

“A ride, yeah... that’d be nice.” Nina sighed, her nose filling with the woodsy scent of his cologne as she let the warmth of his body and the strenght of his arms wash over her. It felt nice, the way he was holding her at the moment.

It felt like something she could definitely get used to, given time...