Astrid / she-her-they / 22 / USA / live, laugh, love? more like read-write-yap baybeeee / multi-fandom
Disclaimers:
» Officially considering this an 18+ blog, MDNI (i like smut too much sorry not sorry)
» I consume, reblog, and write RPF—all portrayals of real people are actually about their fictional dream land versions in my brain and in no way is it meant to be taken literally
» Works I write may include mature or disturbing content. I try to acknowledge anything that may be triggering so please be aware of content info and let me know if I’m missing something :)
I only have my front door half open when Stella's shouting registers. My hand halts and I raise my eyebrows in surprise even though no one would see it. And the frustrated groan that follows almost makes me laugh because it sounds adorable compared to the growls she can pull off during a show.
When I push the door open the rest of the way, I am met by a few cardboard boxes, but they are open now and strewn about like they have been discarded.
I step inside and slip my shoes off, listening for any further outbursts. All I hear is the distant sound of a Ghost song.
"I'm home!" I call out.
"One second!"
My lips twitch up in a smile. I hang my keys by the door on the closest hook, Stella's directly next to them. For a second, I just stare at them.
"Hey," Stella says with an exasperated sigh, her voice pulling my attention towards the hallway.
She walks towards me and I almost choke on air. Her hair is up in that half-assed bun I salivate over, glasses on, and she is wearing one of my baggy MIW hoodies. It falls just past her hips and meets bare legs, bare enough that even her shortest shorts probably would still show if she was actually wearing them.
"Hi," I reply, trailing off as my smile shifts to be more smug. "Did you forget that we moved all your clothes in with the rest of your stuff?"
"This one is comfortable!" She scoffs.
I don't get the pleasure of wrapping my arms around her waist and tugging her against me because she stops and puts her hands on her hips. The protest amuses me, mainly because the only inconvenience it serves is forcing me to take a few more steps forward.
"I guess I can't argue with that," I say.
Her hands trail up my arms as I pull her in tight and my fingers soak in the warmth of her skin when I hook them under the hoodie. I feel the goosebumps rise on her hips and sides as the fabric is pulled higher.
When I lean down and start to leave kisses on her neck, she laughs lightly and pushes her hand into my sternum.
"Wait! I have to keep unpacking."
"You seemed pretty annoyed when I got here," I sing. "Sounds like you could use a break."
"I just started," she admits.
"And it can't wait an hour?"
Maybe it's unfair, but I don't let her answer. I keep kissing her instead. I leave little pecks on her lips, her jaw, her ear. And in my defense, she doesn't make it a challenge to distract her.
"Hold on," she says through a laugh.
I stop even though I don't want to and wait for her explanation, surprised that she is actually stopping me.
"Just let me make it all less of a mess. I spent the last half hour searching for my laptop charger that I misplaced and I really don't want to worry about it later," Stella explains.
"Fine," I answer, groaning dramatically and then smiling. "I'll come help you."
"Does this help actually include unpacking and organizing? Or is it a trap?"
Shrugging, I let go of her and start walking back the way she came.
"Guess you'll just have to find out."
"That doesn't sound promising," she says, but follows me anyway.
"Do you really have so little faith in me?" I laugh.
"I don't have much faith in either of us," she corrects me and brushes past so she is in the lead. "There's a reason it's taken almost a week for me to unpack."
"But that's the beauty of being moved in," I tell her and speed up to catch her by the waist.
She yelps and laughs gently, swatting me away with no luck. I nip at the shell of her ear just to get a reaction because I am having way too much fun disrupting her progress.
"There's no rush," I whisper.
Two hours later, the only progress made was breaking down the empty boxes in the living room and putting them aside. Leftovers from dinner are put away, our plates sit discarded on the coffee table, and the warmth of Stella's legs blanket mine as we watch an episode of The Office.
I'm not paying attention to the show and I can admit it. Right now, I'm more consumed by the relief of being home from Europe and having no looming expectations. And it's not just my place anymore. Now that Stella is moved in, I think it's really home.
I never thought I would get her out of New York, but she took the convincing out of my hands when she suggested it herself. We had our fair share of questioning ourselves and hesitating, trying to say that we've really only had things worked out for six months, but we both knew it was an excuse. She could have shown up at my door with a U-Haul the day after we celebrated Thanksgiving with my parents and I wouldn't have bat an eye.
My train of thought is derailed when the tip of Stella's nail pokes my cheek.
"Everything okay?"
She's watching me curiously, head tilted to the side.
"Yeah, just thinking," I tell her.
"About Ancient Greek philosophy?" She asks sarcastically. "You were so deep in your head I could see your brain through your eyes."
I raise my eyebrows at her. "Thank you for that beautiful image, sweetheart."
"No problem. Now, seriously, something bothering you?"
"There wasn't until that description."
"Okay, you keep deflecting," she announces, "and I'm gonna make some tea."
"Hold on, hold on." I chuckle and grab her wrist when she stands up, which has her looking at me again. "I was just thinking about how I'm happy to be home with you."
She smiles and rolls her eyes. "Okay, lover boy."
I scoff back jokingly. "Oh no, I'm being sentimental. Sue me."
"If it means I get to see you all dressed up in court, maybe I will," she teases, then leans down and places a soft kiss on my temple.
“I love you."
It still gives me butterflies to hear her say that. She told me for the first time months ago, but I don't know if it will ever stop making me grin like an idiot. I sure as hell still do it now, which doesn't make kissing her back easy when she dips her head further.
She breaks away and I already miss it.
"I love you, too,” I answer.
I watch her walk into the kitchen, our dinner plates in hand, and enjoy the pounding of my heart in my chest.
I am fucking whipped.
About a minute goes by and I am checking my messages when Stella's phone starts to ring on the arm of the couch. I click mine off and lean over to check who it is in case it's a random number or something work related.
When I pick it up, I freeze. Then I blink in case I'm seeing things, but the name is still there.
Nikolas Kostas.
"Is that my phone?" Stella calls from the kitchen.
"Yeah," I answer, dazed from the shock. "Uh, babe, you might wanna take this!"
She is already on her way before I'm done speaking, and I stand and pause the show.
"Who is it?" She asks warily.
I turn and she falters at the look on my face.
"It's your brother."
The color drains from her face and for a second, she doesn't move. Then, she's grabbing the phone from my outstretched hand and answering it.
I can see all of the emotions race through her. Shock, terror, excitement, worry. She hasn't heard from him in, fuck. . . five years? She's heard about him from her mom, knows that he bought a house and is married and has a great career, but he hasn't ever answered when she's tried to reach out over the past year.
And I know exactly what she's thinking, at least part of it. This could either be really good or really bad.
"Nik?" She says, shaky and almost inaudible.
It's so silent in the room and her volume is up high enough that I can hear the reply.
"Hey, sis.”
The tears are there instantly, welled up and rolling down her cheeks. She opens her mouth but says nothing, like there are so many thoughts in her head that she can't put words to them. I don't know if I could if I were her.
"I'm sorry," is the next thing I hear him say. "I should have done this a while ago."
"No," she says quietly. "Don't apologize."
I can't hear what else he says, but I try to gauge what I can from Stella's responses.
"I don't care, Nik. I fucked up, you fucked up, we all fucked up, okay? I don't want to do all that taking the blame shit," she rambles. "I just want to forgive and move on."
He must agree, because she smiles in a way I've never seen. It hits me directly in the chest and I can't stop my eyes from burning and my throat from tightening.
"Ask away," she says into the phone.
I don't hear the question, but her eyes snap to mine and amusement lights up her face.
"It's been over five fucking years, and your first question is whether I'm actually dating Chris?"
My jaw basically crashes to the floor, and then I burst out laughing.
She rolls her eyes and says, "Yes, asshole, I am. And in case you can't tell, he thinks that is just hilarious."
I interject on instinct. “I feel so important.”
She scoffs lightheartedly and leans into me when I pull her into my side. There is another comment that I can't hear.
"Seriously?" Stella gasps. "Yes, of course! We don't have any shows for, like, a month and a half. Is that too soon?"
There is another pause and she leans back and looks up at me.
"Do you have anything before —?"
"Doesn't matter," I interrupt her, because the last thing I would do is keep her from seeing her brother again. "Nothing important."
She beams, laughing, and drops her head against my shoulder.
"That's perfect," she says, then nods. "Okay, go to work. We'll talk later. I love you, Nik."
When she pulls the phone away, she watches it until the call ends. Then, she breaks down again.
I wrap my arms around her as tight as I can and try to keep my own emotions at bay, but I know what this means to her and I have seen firsthand how hard it has been. So by now, I am just as excited and relieved as she is.
"Oh my God," Stella says. "Did that just happen?"
"Yeah," I answer and smile into her hair, breathing it in. "Yeah, it did."
dividers by saradika-graphics
Sappy reflection time because I finally managed to reach an epilogue that I liked and felt like wrapped up what I wanted to :)
If you’re reading this I want to genuinely say thank you for your time and support whether it was liking, reblogging, commenting or just reading. I have a LOT of WIP fics that I’ve worked on over the years as little passion projects, but this is the first one I have ever completely finished and shared! I don’t know why BH spoke to me as something I could really see through, maybe because it’s not as grand and ambitious as some of my other projects (by my standards at least).
The funny part is this didn’t even start as a full fic idea. I was just thinking a little mini story, few parts, whatever. But then it kind of came to me more and more and I ended up pouring tons of time and energy into it. Even if it’s not my best work, I feel like it’s the most meaningful because it’s that first finished product you know?
I’m excited to focus on some other stuff and throw in some little Christella one shot pieces sometimes, so let me know if you’re interested in being tagged in those some day :)
Overall thank you again. Thank you for loving and hating my characters with me and laughing and kicking your feet and maybe crying. I appreciate it with all my heart <3
Smile For The Camera — Noah Sebastian x Reader x Bryan Kirks
Pairing: Noah Sebastian x Reader x Bryan Kirks
18+ 𝖒𝖉𝖓𝖎
Summary: Noah has been having way too much fun with the camcorder, and Bryan stumbles upon private footage.
Warnings: explicit language, recorded sex, voyeurism, exhibitionism, masturbation, fingering, controlled orgasms, penis in vagina sex, protected sex, cuck chair
Word Count: 6,285
Notes: This started as just an idea of Noah recording you, but slowly devolved into whatever the fuck this is. I've been working on it for months and finally got the motivation to finish it. No one asked for this and I don't exactly know who the audience is...but enjoy!
Giving Noah a camcorder is like giving a child free rein of a candy shop. He’s giddy the moment Bryan hands it off to him in the green room. His hands trail over the mixed-metal and plastic frame, eyes wide with awe, and he immediately presses the buttons, turning every dial and switch to figure out what it all does.
He jokes about bringing it on stage before he even attempts to use it. Unfortunately for Bryan, who will have more work to do, it’s a great idea. The lead singer getting footage of the crowd and showing his perspective? It’s amazing for social media.
So, to make sure Noah’s footage isn’t completely unusable, he plays around with it a lot to get used to it. He shoves it in everyone’s faces. Folio loves it, sticking out his tongue and wiggling as close to the lens as possible. Nicholas nods at it, trying to seem unamused, but fails miserably. Jolly swats it away as if the camera and the man holding it are incessant little bugs, but he can barely hold back a smile.
Pointing it at you next is inevitable. You’re sitting at a small table in the corner of the room, working through emails during this little bit of downtime. Noah hunches his back, pushes his shoulders up to his ears, and sneaks up beside you. The over-six-foot-tall man can’t go unnoticed, especially when he’s your goofy boyfriend. You turn your head to face him, but keep your eyes on your laptop.
“What are you doing?” you ask.
“Nothing,” Noah sings. “Bryan gave me a toy."
You snort. “Oh boy, exactly what you need."
It’s only then that you hit send on your email and finally look at him. He’s got the camcorder up to his face with one eye squinted, mouth open, and eyebrows furrowed in concentration. It’s about an hour or so before showtime, so he isn’t fully dressed in his stage clothes. Instead, he’s only wearing a tank top, which shows off the vibrant colors of his tattoos. His hair is so long right now that it sticks up in various directions in the back, but you love it like that because it reminds you of his older hairstyles, which you miss dearly. Your eyes shamelessly drag over him, taking in the hard lines of his broad shoulders, the way his muscles strain underneath the thin fabric of his shirt.
“You know I totally just caught you drooling over me on camera, right?" He asks, still recording.
“I was not drooling,” you argue, making sure to look right into the lens so it captures your intense eyeroll.
“Sure,” Noah teases, dragging the word out.
“Why don’t you leave the camera work to professionals and go be pretty elsewhere?”
“I am a professional!” Noah pouts, dropping the camera. “Bryan said I can use it on stage!”
“He’s going to regret that,” you laugh, reaching over to pat your boyfriend on the shoulder like a little puppy.
~~~
Your words don’t ring true until days later.
It’s the afternoon of a day off. Most of the crew is exploring the city and probably won’t be back until it’s time to start driving again. It’s just you, Noah, and Bryan left on the main bus.
Bryan sits at the small built-in table and drops all his gear as he prepares to work. You and Noah talk quietly among yourselves as you lounge on the couch, your head in Noah’s lap with his fingers trailing through your hair.
This is a somewhat normal routine you three have built. Bryan likes to work with the people around him as his body doubles and to hold him accountable for his deadlines. You and Noah just enjoy having your friends around as much as possible. On tour, chill moments are few and far between. So relaxing with a little company is a win-win.
For the first half hour or so, it’s quiet. Bryan works diligently, and you scroll absentmindedly through your phone while Noah rests his eyes. The only noise is the click of Bryan’s mouse and the occasional TikTok video your friends send. That is, until a squeak startles you, sending your phone crashing to the floor. You frantically look around the space for the source of the sound.
Bryan’s cheeks are bright red, and the color trails down his neck and spreads across his nose. His eyes are wide but still fixed on the screen in front of him.
“Bry?” you ask, confusion in your voice. “You okay?”
He swallows hard, eyes slowly dragging up to meet yours.
“I'm fine.” His voice cracks as he answers, and you raise an eyebrow at him, but he's already looking past you and up at Noah.
“I'm just looking through your camcorder footage,” Bryan explains.
Your brows furrow. What in videos of fans would make him react like that? It’s just clips from the very end of every set, each one full of the crowd as they yell, wave, and try to catch various goodies. It's incredible footage that has added a personal element to the nightly recap videos Bryan puts together.
There's been another use for the camcorder as well—something a little more… intimate.
The realization dawns on you far too late, and you scramble off Noah's lap, sitting up straight. Your boyfriend, on the other hand, doesn't move an inch. You don't have to look at him to know there’s a shit-eating grin pulling at his lips. Sometimes, he has an incredible poker face, but not when he's seconds from an absolutely insane idea.
After the first show, Noah was far too excited to put the camera down. He didn’t give it back to Bryan, claiming that he could be responsible for it, so he brought it to your hotel room and tossed it on the couch on the other side of the room. You were stripping off your all-black leather outfit and giving him the eyes. It took only seconds for him to get a sinister idea, slinking off the bed and reaching for the camera once again. The rest is history. Well, recorded history.
You have no idea what to say to Bryan right now. You don't particularly mind that he’s seeing it, but you know he's more than likely being blindsided by your entirely naked body on his laptop screen.
“Bryan, listen—” you barely get the words out before you're stopped by Noah gently resting a hand on your thigh.
“Don't be shy,” he says calmly. “Show us.”
You whip your head to the side to look at him, eyes wide. “Noah—”
A squeeze to your leg shuts you right up.
“Turn the laptop around, Bryan,” he commands in a slow, serious drawl.
Bryan obliges, one shaky hand turning it around. Sure enough, right there on the screen is a frame perfectly paused on you sprawled out naked across a hotel bed. Judging from the comforter, this was only two nights ago in Chicago. Your skin looks soft through the vintage, film-like lens, glowing in the dim, warm light. There’s a shy smile spreading over your face and stars in your eyes as you look up at Noah.
You feel instantly transported to the moment. Noah stripped down to a fresh pair of boxer briefs just after a shower, standing at the foot of the bed with the camera held up to his face, and you squirming in the plush sheets under his intense gaze and demands.
“Do you want to watch it?” Noah breaks the awkward silence and brings you back to reality, to the fact that one of your closest friends just saw something that was never meant to meet the light of day.
“No, I lived it,” you respond, turning your head to the side to look at Noah. He's facing forward, eyes straight ahead.
“I'm not asking you,” he explains calmly.
You follow his gaze back to the only other person in the room. Bryan’s expression has morphed from shock and confusion to something far more complicated. Heavy-lidded eyes, parted lips, perfectly still hands balled into white-knuckled fists in his lap.
Oh. Oh.
“Bryan,” Noah says, nudging the other man with the word. You feel like a deer caught in headlights, frozen in place as you wait for whatever his answer will be. Do you want him to watch it? Or do you want him just to delete the video and laugh it off?
“I do, yeah,” Bryan practically whispers.
“Are you okay with Bryan watching it, princess?” Noah looks over at you as he asks.
Your breath catches in your throat. This is real and happening, and you have to answer Noah honestly because he will know instantly if you try to lie.
And the truth hits you hard, spreading warmth over your skin. Out of all of the guys, you might just be the most okay with Bryan seeing you naked and desperate. With how long he and Noah have been friends, there’s no chance he hasn’t already seen Noah, including every tantalizing inch of him. But you? You’ve only ever stripped down to a bathing suit around the band and crew, and even then, it was a quite modest one-piece. Noah has never even mentioned sharing you with any of them, so this is all coming out of nowhere.
But you trust Bryan. With all the years spent touring together, you’ve gotten close to him. The static that makes your entire body feel like it is buzzing is enough to tell you you want this to happen. You want Bryan to unpause the video and watch as it unfolds.
“Yes,” you whimper, unable to look anywhere but right at your friend, who is now holding your gaze with such intensity.
“Good,” Noah coos, squeezing your thigh again in praise. “Do you want to watch with him? See how he reacts to you being fucked?”
“I do,” you whine. “I really, really do.”
“Then go ahead, Bryan,” Noah nods forward. “Press play.”
There’s a moment where no one moves, like you’re all waiting for the shoe to drop, for Noah to snatch the laptop and remove all traces of your escapades. When Bryan realizes that the command is real, that he does have permission to watch, he positions himself on the edge of the seat, turns the laptop to make sure all three of you can see it, and then hits the space bar.
The video starts right up.
“You look so pretty, baby,” Noah murmurs, the sound crackling as he moves the camera closer to you to focus on the way your body reacts to his words.
You wriggle impatiently, the clean white sheets bunching around you. Your skin is covered in goosebumps, partially from the overhead fan whirring at full speed and also from sheer anticipation, knowing what’s coming so very soon.
“Thank you,” you whisper, eyes soft and wide.
“You’re welcome,” Noah replies, voice growing rougher with every word. “Do you want to touch yourself for the camera, baby? Show off a little?”
You hesitate, hands resting at your sides, but twitching in the blankets. Noah’s patience is obvious, simply keeping the camera steady and on your body as you decide.
Instead of replying, you simply uncurl your fists and move your hands to ghost over your body. One starts at your neck, fingers barely grazing your skin. The other gently wraps around your breast, and you pinch at your nipple, mouth popping open in a tiny gasp.
You can’t make yourself feel as good as Noah can, but this is really close, especially with his eyes—and a camera—on you.
The hand at your neck trails down your body, passing your other breast, and instead moves to the middle of your stomach, where it splays out flat. You’re not purposefully covering yourself, but Noah growls unhappily nonetheless.
“Why are you hiding?” He asks.
“I’m not.”
“I think you are,” he barks, leaning in closer. “Move your hand and spread your legs.”
“Noah,” you whine, thrashing nervously.
“C’mon, baby,” he beckons. “Show the camera what that pretty pussy looks like.”
You let out a shaky breath before removing your hand from your stomach, letting it drop down to the sheets again. After repositioning to lie straight in the middle of the bed, you pull your legs apart, bending your knees outward.
You’re now on full display. Pretty, pink, and glistening with arousal.
Noah’s breath catches, knuckles turning white as they grip the metal handle of the camera. He wants to reach out and touch you, run his fingers through your folds, cover them in your slick, and savor the taste as he licks them clean. You can tell he’s being good, keeping himself focused on getting every inch of you on film. There's no need to savor the moment when he can just record it, relive it over and over whenever he wants.
“How do I look?” You ask, voice silky smooth as you barely reach over a whisper.
Noah shakes his head in disbelief, letting out a long and uneven breath. “Absolutely breathtaking.”
His words make your head spin. No matter how many times he compliments you, it never gets old. Your muscles ache, legs threatening to close, but you reposition, pushing your hips up into the air to bring your core even closer to the lens.
“Filthy girl,” Noah growls. “Touch yourself for me, for the camera.”
And you do. Fuck, you don't even hesitate. Two fingers slip inside with a soft squelch. Stretching around as you spread them apart wide, as far as they'll go.
You peel your eyes away from the screen and let them wander to Bryan. He’s sitting completely frozen in place, focus glued to you from the past. His breathing is shallow, his chest barely rising and falling, and his hands are fixed perfectly to keep his true reaction just out of your view. You wet your bottom lip.
Noah’s not watching the screen either; his attention going between you and his friend. He wants to know exactly how this is affecting both of you. He knows damn well that it's driving you crazy, making you desperate. The hand resting on your thigh releases its grip and instead wanders, teasing inward. You stiffen, turning your head to give him a look of warning—wide eyes and a quick shake of your head.
Noah tuts, startling you and Bryan equally.
“Why are you so stiff, princess?” He asks you, reaching his free hand up to your face, the back of his brushing against your flushed cheek.
“Because,” you inhale. “Bryan’s watching me finger myself.”
The sentence feels foreign, practically insane, as you utter it. It makes Bryan twitch, which you only just barely see in your peripheral vision.
“You said you wanted to show off,” Noah chuckles. “That's what you're doing.”
“Yeah, to you, to the camera. I never thought…” your words trail away, get stuck in your throat.
“You never thought one of our friends would want to watch.”
You nod, eyes softening. Noah coos, tucking stray strands of hair behind your ear. You’re becoming pliant under his touch, and he knows it, using it to his advantage to slip his resting hand just under the waistband of your biker shorts, fingers tracing against your bare skin.
“Are you enjoying it, Bryan?” Noah asks.
Bryan nods, but his eyes stay glued to the screen where you’ve still got two fingers deep inside of yourself. You snort in awe, completely taken aback by just how focused and in a trance he is.
“I’m sure you are,” Noah says smugly. “But I want to hear you say it.”
Bryan’s head whips over to Noah. Your recorded moans and whines fill the space, and while it should be so fucking awkward, it’s not. It’s far from it. Every sound in the video thickens the tension, almost making it tangible as if it were happening right now in this very room.
“I—” Bryan hesitates, swallowing hard and meeting your eyes. “I’ve always wanted to see you.”
“See her do what?” Noah asks. He’s being a pushy asshole, teasing Bryan like this, but it’s working. He’s slowly unraveling out of his shyness.
“Touch herself. Get fucked. All of it.”
The tips of your ears go hot as ringing echoes through them. You don’t even know what to say, opening your mouth, but staying quiet.
“It’s a beautiful sight,” Noah comments. “The camera doesn’t do it justice.”
Something flashes in Bryan’s eyes, a mix of mischief and curiosity. Electricity sparks through the small space between the three of you, making the hair on your arms stand up straight. It’s as if you all understand the gravity of the situation at the same time. You feel frozen in the realization as Bryan’s attention flicks right back up to Noah. He’ll have to get through your boyfriend first.
“Please,” Bryan begs.
There are so many words left unsaid, so much context missing, but there’s no need. You know what he’s asking for, what he wants to see. You expect Noah to tense up beside you or tell Bryan to fuck off. But he doesn’t. Instead, he tilts his chin down to you. No fight, no denial. Well, fuck. That was easier than you expected. Does that mean he wants this, too? Wants Bryan to see what has been solely his for years? It’s all up to you to decide. And who the fuck are you to say no to something you’ve definitely fantasized about before? You’ve never told Noah that, of course. There have been a few times where you’ve been working with Bryan, running around venues together, and you’ve stopped to admire him as he used the bottom of his shirt to wipe sweat from his forehead, catching the tiniest hint of skin. You’ve seen him fully shirtless many times and even had the privilege of catching him in his boxers early in the morning on the bus. You’re just a girl with eyes. No one can blame you for looking.
Noah’s territorial. He has never shown interest in sharing you in the slightest. But now, he’s changing his tune, and you have a chance to get something you’ve wanted. So you quickly nod in confirmation.
“I want to,” you say, words catching in the dryness of your throat and making you swallow hard.
Noah chuckles softly. “Then you need to take these off.”
He’s tugging at your biker shorts, his fingers hooked over the top of them and already attempting to pull them down. You lift your hips and help him by shimmying them off and letting them pool at your feet. The kicker is, you’re not wearing panties underneath them. And you never do because no one wants to see underwear lines poking through tight cotton and spandex.
Bryan’s breath catches harshly at the sight, his attention no longer on the video still playing. You look over at it, getting distracted by the sight of yourself with two of your own fingers plunged deep inside you. It’s empowering knowing that this footage has led you to this, and it leaves you in awe of yourself.
Noah clears his throat. “Do I need to turn that off?”
“No!” You say quickly as you look away from it. “I mean—you can if you want.”
“Is this about what I want?”
Well, no. You guess it’s not. You look up at Noah through your eyelashes and shake your head.
“I have an idea,” Bryan says gruffly, cutting the conversation between the two of you short. “You should match exactly what you’re doing in the video. And if you do something wrong or different, you’ll be punished.”
All the air knocks right out of your lungs, making you lean against Noah’s side as dizziness hits. He doesn’t react, just simply slings an arm over your shoulder to steady you and places the other against your bare thigh, splaying his fingers out across soft, warm skin.
“Do you actually think I’d let you touch her?” He asks calmly.
Bryan bristles in his seat. “I’ll watch to make sure she’s following along. And you can punish her.”
He doesn’t answer Noah’s question, but you all know the answer. He can look. He just can’t touch. Noah hums in approval at the idea. You desperately try to stay calm, but you can feel your heart beating out of your chest. This doesn’t feel real, and yet it’s happening. Noah’s fingers dig into the flesh of your thigh, and he uses his grip to pry them apart.
“You'd better get started then,” Noah says to you as he stands up, his fingers tracing along your body until they can’t anymore. You follow the feeling, arching yourself toward him. The absence of his warmth makes you whine, but you don’t protest.
He only moves over to Bryan’s side of the aisle, leaning against the wall behind the built-in chair. Bryan stays exactly where he is, eyes glued to you. And you scramble, looking back to the laptop playing your literal sex tape.
At this point in the video, you’re a mess, writhing against the sheets and babbling incoherently. Noah permits you to add a third finger, and you do without hesitation. This action makes you balk in real life, throwing your head up at Noah in exaggeration.
“I’m supposed to match the video exactly?”
Noah shrugs nonchalantly, a Cheshire cat smile pulling at his lips. “It was Bryan’s idea.”
You narrow your eyes. “I haven’t had a chance to prep myself. Three fingers are a lot to start.”
Noah crosses his arms over his chest and presses his mouth shut in a thin line.
“Do you want Noah to punish you?” Bryan asks, making your eyes double in size as you sputter. When did he gain enough confidence to speak up?
You shake your head desperately. “No, I don’t.”
“Then I suggest you watch the video and do exactly as she does,” he answers, leaning towards you slightly. “That shouldn’t be hard, right? It is only you from a few days ago after all.”
You force yourself to keep quiet and not give anyone a lick of attitude, no matter how badly you want to. Noah and Bryan are both just as pent up as you are, so god knows what would happen if you went against their wishes. So instead, you take a steadying breath and reposition yourself on the couch. Now that Noah isn’t beside you anymore, there is plenty of room to sprawl out. You press your back to the cushions and scoot up to position your head against the armrest. The bus sofas aren’t exactly meant for someone to stretch out on like this, so you’re a bit scrunched, but you make it work, bending your knees out to spread your legs apart. Your pussy is on full display to the two men watching you. Neither of them makes a sound or reacts in any way, but you can feel their eyes boring into your skin, setting it ablaze.
There’s no need to waste any more time. Your desperation has become unbearable, and it shows in the way your fingers tremble as they skitter across the bare skin of your legs and reach your aching core. You bite at your bottom lip to hold back a whine as you rub your three digits along your folds, purposely coating them in as much of your arousal as possible. The sting is inevitable as you push them inside, but you go slow and let yourself get used to the feeling.
Bryan blows out a breath. “Fuck.”
You look up at him through your eyelashes, lips parted as your breathing becomes shallow and choppy.
“Isn’t she gorgeous?” Noah asks him.
“Stunning.”
You preen at their words, offering a lopsided smile as you spread your fingers apart and attempt to stretch yourself open. It’s not like three is a lot normally. You’re a bit of a size queen and often beg Noah to fist you or use an extra-large dildo when you need more. It’s just that this isn’t exactly how you pictured your relaxing afternoon. Without any preparation or even proper foreplay, you’re just being extra careful to make sure you stay feeling good. And right now, it’s heavenly as you begin to move and pump your fingers in and out, you go weightless, your head lolling against the armrest. Your eyes squeeze shut with a surge of pressure.
Noah tuts loudly, startling you not enough for you to stop, but just enough that your eyes pop open and you look at him through the static and haze.
“How are you supposed to be sure you’re following along if your eyes are closed?” He asks, tilting his own head to mimic your position.
He looks so good like this, simply standing there watching you. His hair is a mess atop his head, sticking up every which way. He’s wearing the sweatpants and tank top he slept in since neither of you bothered to get ready for this lazy day. His biceps constrict as he keeps his arms folded, veins protruding and cascading down to his hands. You want to lick them, feeling the thrum of his blood and his pulse and just him.
Instead, you look back at the video and watch as intently as possible.
Only the bottom half of your body is in the frame until Noah steps back, the camera shaking as he does so. It unfocuses for a second as the lens adjusts to the new distance, showing off all of you. Your legs are spread wide, feet digging into the sheets to keep yourself anchored. You trail your free hand up your body, from your legs to your stomach, fingers dragging across your skin as you dig your nails in. You move up to your breasts, grabbing at one of them and pinching your nipple between two fingers. A moan works up your throat.
You mirror the motion, snaking your hand up your shirt and wrapping it around your breast.
“You think that’s good enough?” Noah asks.
“What?” You whine.
“In the video, you’re naked,” Bryan explains for him. “Completely.”
The two of them ganging up on you should make you feel small, weak. There’s someone out there who would be humiliated by it. But you? You fucking love it. A wicked smile pulls at your lips. You reluctantly pull your fingers out of your pussy, letting out a tiny whine at the loss, and use both your hands to peel off your shirt. There will probably be a stain on it from how wet your fingers are, but that’s a problem for a different day. Hopefully, the venue tomorrow has a washing machine. To antagonize the boys, you throw your shirt at Bryan. It plops against his chest and lands in his lap.
“Funny,” he quips with a smirk. You giggle as he uses a finger to pick it up and drop it to the floor.
Bryan’s eyes never leave you as he shamelessly soaks in your bare skin. Your nipples are pebbled, pretty, pink, and hard.
“I never thought I’d see you like this,” he admits as he blows out a breath.
“Better take it all in now because it’s not happening again,” Noah speaks up. Bryan steels his expression as best as he can, but you see right through it as disappointment slumps his shoulders.
“Don’t pout, Bry,” you murmur. “Just watch me.”
With that, you put your fingers right back where they were, squeezing around them in pleasure and using your other hand to play with your nipples again. The video plays on.
You fuck yourself with your fingers hard and fast, pulling them out and pushing them back in. Your eyes roll back in your head before they squeeze shut, and your mouth is open, jaw slack.
This isn’t enough. You drop your hand from your breasts and immediately move it to your clit, rubbing fast circles into the sensitive bud. Between that and your fast rhythm fucking your fingers, your body begins to tighten up.
“Noah,” you whimper in warning. “I'm close. So fucking close.”
You open your eyes and look at the camera, staring right down the lens.
Noah lets out an aroused groan. “Go ahead, baby. Cum for me. Cum for the camera. Show it how pretty you look when you let go.”
And you listen to him, crying out loudly as your orgasm wracks through your body.
Watching yourself cum feels surreal. You get lost in the right, pounding your fingers into yourself faster.
Noah tsks. Your movements stutter, and you give him the biggest puppy dog eyes you can to try to soften the blow. It’s useless. He drops his arms to his sides in disappointment.
“Now, princess,” he coos. “What is it that you’re doing wrong?”
Like you don’t already know.
“I can’t cum yet!” You whine. “I’m not close.”
“That’s too bad. Do you need some help?”
You perk up, nodding enthusiastically. “Yes, please.”
“Video off, Bryan,” he orders as he moves back over to you, leaving Bryan at the table by himself.
Bryan listens, then hits the spacebar and closes his laptop. While that was fun, seeing it happen in real time is much better anyway.
Noah must feel as desperate and hungry as you do. He grabs your legs and swings them over the cushion. “I’ll fuck you, but you can’t touch yourself or me. Hands above your head.”
It’s hardly a punishment when you’re this desperate and far gone. You oblige, lifting your arms and putting your hands on the armrest of the couch.
Noah lets go of your legs long enough to push his sweatpants and boxers down, freeing his cock. It springs up against his stomach for a moment, making you bite at your lip to stifle a moan. It doesn’t matter how many times you see him, something always stirs awake inside of you. His cock is perfect. When he’s hard like this, it’s just about seven inches, and his girth is enough to fill you up but not hurt. You love it, love the way he feels buried deep inside you.
Noah reaches over to the counter that the couch is against. The bus’s front lounge isn’t very big. Most things are all compact and next to each other. It’s only then that you realize what your true punishment is. There are a few bowls on it with all sorts of stuff, like fruits and keys. The one he reaches for, however, makes you sit up.
“What are you doing?” You ask.
Noah doesn’t look at you. He knows you’re smart enough to have already put together what’s happening. He wants you to feel the disappointment.
“Noah,” you whine as you watch him take a condom out of the bowl and rip it open.
“What, princess? You have to be punished, don’t you?”
You’re several years into your relationship with Noah, and it’s been a long time since you regularly used condoms. You both love the way it feels for him to take you raw, and you've been on birth control for a while. So there really is no use except for when he's trying to tease you. He’s going to give you what you want, but not quite allow you to feel it all.
You watch him roll the condom onto his cock and keep a hand on his length, using it to guide himself into your aching pussy. When he pushes inside, you let out a whine. Not one of satisfaction, though. No, it's full of want and lust. You feel good, of course, but you know it can be more.
Noah uses his other hand to grab your cheeks, pushing your lips together.
“Be fucking grateful,” he grits out, spitting in your face. You blink up at him but don't speak. “I'm fucking you in front of our friend. Don't pretend like you haven't wanted this.”
He knows you so well. It's no surprise he's already aware that this is quite a fantasy for you. Nonetheless, blush spreads across your cheeks, down your neck, and covers your chest.
Noah’s back is to Bryan, which means the other man can just barely see you. The moment Noah pushes forward and starts a pace, fucking you with abandon, Bryan groans. Your curiosity gets the best of you, eyes sliding past Noah’s shoulder and over to him sitting at the table. His legs are spread into a wide stance, one hand palming his erection through his jeans and the other balled into a fist at his side. You've never seen him like this, long hair disheveled, face completely flushed, pupils blown wide.
You watch him with no shame, whimpering and whining from Noah fucking you, and also how hot Bryan looks right now. It's overwhelming, being between the two men like this, but you fucking love it.
Noah’s still holding onto your face, eyes intently watching you. A harsh laugh bubbles up his throat when he realizes where your focus is.
“Really?” He asks, voice gruff. “Are you watching Bryan? Do you want him to show you more?”
You meet Noah’s eyes and let out a tiny noise of agreement. His lips curl into a smirk as he continues his pace, not looking away from you as he speaks.
“Wanna show her, Bry?”
“Yeah,” he answers huskily, hastily unzipping his pants. He lifts his hips, lets the jeans, along with his boxers, drop to his ankles. He doesn’t bother to kick them off, just lets them pool on the ground. You whine at the sight of his cock. It’s not as big as Noah’s, but that doesn’t make you want it any less.
He wraps a hand around his length, gripping it tightly. It’s obscene to watch the way he’s fucking into his fist, bucking forward. Heat pools in your stomach, tightening your muscles.
“Oh, you like that? You like watching Bryan fuck himself? Now you know how he felt watching you, mhm?” Noah chimes in again, dropping his hold on your face to put his hands on either side of your hips. He uses the newfound grip to change his pace and drill into you, hunching over and mounting you properly. His hips snap forward, and the spot he hits inside of you is perfect.
“Fuck!” You cry at the new sensations.
You want to close your eyes, give in to the feeling, dig your nails into Noah’s back. But you can’t do any of it. Instead, you watch Bryan, who's staring back at you sharply, eyes tracing over every inch of your body to see exactly how you react to Noah’s punishing speed. Bryan’s sloppy, pumping himself with a sharp flick of his wrist. Noah’s grip on you is getting stronger, fingertips digging into your skin.
All three of you are coiled so fucking tight, getting closer and closer to the edge. You’re probably the furthest away, though. You can feel it inching closer, but it’s just out of reach. It’s from the condom and your inability to touch what and where you want. There’s no pressure on your clit, just Noah fucking into your cunt harshly. He’s bottoming out, hitting deep into you with every thrust.
“You don’t get to cum until after Bryan and me? Understood?” Noah asks.
You nod repeatedly, the words catching in your throat.
It’s not much of a punishment since you know they’re both close. Groans spill from Bryan as he speeds up again, his movements becoming more erratic and desperate. You watch as streaks of white spill from the tip of his cock and down his tattooed hand. He relaxes, his body slumping against the cushion of the chair behind him. You give him a lopsided smile and finally let your eyes close, squeezing them tightly.
Noah groans, breath stuttering. “I wish I could cum in this tight little pussy instead of a fucking condom, but you just had to disobey. Can you feel my dick twitching, princess? How close I am?”
“Yes,” you whimper. “Please cum for me. Please.”
Your words are all it takes. You can feel the warmth of Noah’s cum streaming into the condom, and it makes you wild. So wild, in fact, that you disobey his rule and drop your hand, pressing a few of your fingers into your clit and rubbing quick circles against it. Noah doesn’t stop you. He simply chuckles at your desperation and keeps himself buried inside of your pussy, staying still so he can watch you. You grind against his length as the pressure builds and builds.
It hits you hard and fast and feels amazing. Your toes curl against the side of the couch, and a string of whispers escapes parted lips. It doesn’t last long, but it’s good, really good. You drop your hand when your orgasm is finally over and open your eyes to look at Noah. He smiles softly and slowly pulls out. You hiss at the loss, watching him carefully slide off the filled condom and discard it. The room smells like sex, and all three of you look like a mess. You wiggle to sit up and gather your clothes. Bryan coughs awkwardly as he situates himself, pulling his jeans back up. He grabs his laptop, tucking it under his armpit and standing up, walking toward the bunks and presumably the shower.
“Hey, Bry,” you call out, making him stop in his tracks and look at you over his shoulder.
“Yeah?”
“Keep the video,” you say with a wink.
Bryan rolls his eyes but gives you a smirk as Noah’s chuckles fill the room.
Summary: Apocalypse Fest turns out to be a day of joy, sadness, understanding, and relief.
Content: a whole bunch of closure and sappy stuff and bittersweet moments
Word count: 4.2k
Masterpost | Ch. 24 | Epilogue
Taglist
one week later
A lot changes in a year. Even more changes in two, almost three.
That's what crosses my mind when I breathe in the stale air of the arena in Scranton. The house lights are up and the stage is half set up. Crew pass back and forth, a constant flow of dark clothes and the clunk of a bad wheel on a road case. Directions and questions and jokes are shouted back and forth as I stand in the middle of the floor facing the stage.
Footsteps approach from behind me, a weight and cadence that I have learned well over time.
"I don't know if I've ever told you how happy I am for you," I say when the steps halt and warm energy wraps around my skin.
"Crazy, isn't it?" Chris answers as if he knows exactly what I'm thinking, which he does. "Eighteen years ago, this wasn't even part of the dream.”
I turn to look at him and have to shift to the side so I won't be craning my neck.
"I mean, maybe I had dreams about venues like this, but playing an arena in our hometown for a show that is specifically for us. . . that never would have crossed my mind," he adds.
"You deserve it," I tell him, smiling. "You guys have worked so hard to get here. It's kind of beautiful to take a step back before everyone fills up the room and see what that's all amounted to. Even as a fan, it's amazing."
He smirks a little. "Don't worry. You'll get here too someday."
"Asshole! I'm trying to be nice." I laugh.
"I know, I'm just messing with you," he says and brushes some of my hair behind my ear, then leans down to press a kiss to my forehead.
For the first time, I don't panic at the idea of who might be around us.
"Thank you," Chris adds. "I think I'm just in shock still."
"I can't blame you," I answer, smiling up at him.
"You guys got loaded in okay?"
"Asher dropped a box of merch on his foot, but he'll be fine."
Chris laughs and then covers his mouth as it starts to immediately echo. My eyes widen and I cover my own mouth as I start laughing with him.
"He kind of needs those," he says.
"He's resilient," I reply and glance down at the time. "I should probably go get warmed up before sound check."
"Not even a few more minutes?" Chris groans.
His arms loop around my waist and I laugh airily again, putting my hand on his chest.
"Aren't you, like, way more busy than me? You probably don't have a few minutes."
He sighs now. "Yeah, I have about ten other things I should be doing right now."
"Show comes first today," I state, wiggling out of his half-assed grip and slowly walking away backward. "We're both working, remember?"
Chris rolls his eyes and bites back a smile. "I have to have fun, though!"
"You'll have plenty of fun on stage!" I call back before finally turning around.
"Whatever!"
I smile at how the response echoes through the venue and make my way backstage.
Our green room is fairly busy. Between all of us, the small crew getting set up, and a couple handfuls of family and friends on the guest list, it is packed. Nevermind the fact that we secured a second room. Everyone is congregating like they'll never see each other again.
Well, I guess some of us might not. We will probably still see each other, but not often. Not every day for months at a time like we have the past several years.
The thought sobers me as I look around at the chaos and joy.
We are so close to home that we had a lot of people wanting to see Lukas' last show. Both his official statement and ours let everyone know he would play Apocalypse, but would be stepping away for the foreseeable future afterwards.
Because of the situation, we were able to secure a few extra spots. It is bittersweet because I know how much Lukas is loved and will be missed, but it hurts to think that it came to this.
No one is in the other room when I walk in and I breathe in the cooler air gratefully. I get to work zoning out into the usual warm up routine. Scales, breath work, a couple songs, stretching (because this shit is starting to make me sore and I have had an eventful few months), you name it.
I'm in the middle of running a song with my dampener to keep things quieter when the door opens. I don't hear it at first, but I see movement that makes me turn.
Luke is leaning against the door.
"You can finish. I didn't mean to interrupt," he says.
"It was an extra song," I reply and wave my hand to dismiss the offer. "What's up?"
He takes a deep breath and gestures to the couch, so I follow his lead and sit down.
I shudder to think it's been two weeks since what happened on the bus. We have yet to really talk since that next morning. We interacted a little those last couple days, but then I didn't hear from him again until he told us all over a damn Zoom call that he was leaving the band. I haven't really spoken to him since then.
I've been hurt and sad and scared to face it, and I knew he would explain it to me when he was ready.
"I can't believe this is it," he says, looking at his shoes instead of at me.
I frown. "It doesn't have to be."
"You know that's not true, Stell."
He looks the most defeated I think I have ever seen him when he turns his gaze my way.
"I wish you would have discussed it with us first before making such a big decision," I tell him, careful to keep my tone unaccusing. "None of us want you to leave."
"I know, and that's why I made the decision on my own. I knew you guys would try to problem solve," he replies.
I pull my feet up onto the leather couch and rest my arms on my knees that are tucked against my chest. It feels like a casual comfort that I need. This isn't a conversation between colleagues or acquaintances that have to keep their distance. This is a conversation with my best friend.
"You're sure we can't figure it out?" I ask.
"The damage is done," he says. "You and Chris are committed, and I know I have no chance. You don't love me the same way I love you and I have to accept that. Even if you and Chris decided to really end things, I know it wouldn't change your feelings or what we've done and said to each other.”
I shake my head apologetically. I know I don't have to apologize for not wanting anything more with him, but I still wish he didn't have to endure such a horrible rejection.
"I just can't be around you all the time or watch you be happy with someone else other than me without feeling bitter. I realize how shitty that is and I plan on working through it because you're my best friend and I should be happy for your happiness, but that's going to take time," he continues. "I hated who I was ever since I found out about you guys and I thought if everyone else knew, I would feel better. But I'm the only one who couldn't bring myself to be happy for you, and that's really fucked up."
A lump forms in my throat as I watch his eyes gloss over and I have to look away. I can hear the pain in his voice and I can feel my own clawing at my skin.
"Part of me wishes it could've been you. That would've made things so much more convenient," I say around the thickness.
"That's the people pleasing part of you and it's lying to you," he says, trying to sound lighthearted, but it's just sad.
It's sad because he is right. Now that I know what it's like with Chris, I would never trade him. I could never really give him up.
"I need to take time away and make sure I know myself. I gave you shit for not really going to therapy, but I didn't give it a solid try either and we all need it. I want to spend time with my mom and make sure she is healthy again, let her actually get to know her son once I find out who he is, and I would rather leave the band and still have friends than leave without any."
A tear slips onto my cheek when I blink and I wipe it away, nodding and trying to compose myself.
"I'm glad you know what's best for you," I say and reach out, grabbing his hand. "And I'm sorry I betrayed your trust. I was confused and scared and didn't want to lose something good, so I kept it hidden from everything I thought could damage it. But I lost something good that I already had in the process."
"Stella. . ."
"I keep wondering if maybe you wouldn't be playing a last show with us tonight if I had just been fucking honest," I admit through a few more tears.
Lukas cracks and the tears lining his eyes spill over like mine.
"No, don't you dare blame yourself," he says and shakes his head, squeezing my hand. "I know why you did it and I never should have thrown it in your face like I did. Even if you had told us, I still would have been jealous and hurt."
"But we could have figured it out!" I argue.
"I don't know what we could have done. I would have been trying to give you a damaged version of myself. I would have tried to sabotage anything good that you found so you would realize I was there! That's the problem, and I have to figure that out on my own.”
I purse my lips and look down, trying to keep myself together even though I'm already falling apart. The withdrawal-heavy part of my brain screams at me to search for something to fill the cracks—alcohol, weed, nicotine, anything—but I have to fight it just like I have for the past week.
"I love you, Estella," Lukas says quietly, "in an unhealthy, trauma-bonded way that feeds a part of me that wasn't there until this band turned my life upside down. And I genuinely love this job like nothing else in the world, but I need to find my footing again."
Something about the confession offers me peace. I know I'm not crazy or imagining things and I know that it's okay that I don't love him as anything but a friend and a brother.
I take a breath and wipe my eyes, then nod.
"I'm proud of you. I'm proud of this decision and how much you're going to grow from where you already are, and I want you to remember that you are one of my favorite people on the planet," I tell Luke with a smile. "So you better not become a stranger, and you will always have a place in this band if and when you decide to come back."
"Okay," he answers, the simplicity of it final and positive.
There is a knock on the door before Manny leans in.
"Sorry. I hate to bother you guys, but we need to get to soundcheck," he says hesitantly.
"We'll be right there," I answer with a smile to ease his worry.
He smiles back and glances between us, then nods.
The door clicks shut behind him and Lukas and I both sigh. We stand up and I am immediately pulled into a bone-crushing hug.
I breathe in his scent and smile at the familiarity. It feels good to not have such a wall between us. The feeling is probably mutual, given how he doesn't let up either.
When we do let each other go, Luke rests his hands on my shoulders.
"Just. . . answer one thing for me and rip the band-aid off," he starts.
I nod. "Go ahead."
"Do you love him?"
My heart starts beating faster at the question no one has asked me. It is a complex question with layers and emotions and memories that have built over the span of my career and even more over the past year, but the answer fills every space in my head and comes out before I can doubt my instinct.
"I do."
I can see the way it hits Lukas directly in the chest, but he smiles a little anyway and nods.
"Okay," he says again, then smirks. "If he hurts you, I'll kill him."
I lose count of how many people I meet by Chris' side. My introduction is always the same. I shake their hand with a smile and repeat their name to make sure I heard it correctly, then they nod.
"Estella. Nice to meet you," I say, then usually add. "I do vocals in Evergreen Agony. I promise we're not actually assholes."
It tends to get a laugh, which is good, because it dulls the fear that hits me when Chris calls me his girlfriend if it comes up.
We agreed to not make it a dramatic announcement. Just because our entire history is dramatic didn't mean we needed or wanted more, so we elected to play it cool and act like it wasn't a big deal. Obviously it is a big deal for us because we are crazy about each other, but if we present it to people just like any other romantic relationship, we hope that people will be less shook up.
Some of the people I meet find out because it comes up in conversation or they are family and friends of his that he feels deserve to know. The rest are left to draw their own conclusions from how he drapes his arm around me or plays with my hair.
It feels weird at first, but once we get past the secrecy we're used to and let ourselves behave however comes naturally, it gets better.
Our set has been approaching faster than I am ready for all night and it is finally here, changeover only a couple minutes from ending. There is an unspoken emotional cloud above all of us. Even though the event is two days this year, we all only play once, so this might be the last time we walk onstage with Lukas.
Chris is watching us from several feet away. He doesn't come over because he already told me to go out there and fuck shit up, which I told him was a scary request after how messy it got last time, but he wanted to get me out of my sad mindset and also give us space when it came time to go on.
He nods and smiles reassuringly.
I take a breath and look down at my outfit to ensure it is in place. For the sake of it being Halloween, I dressed up in black and white striped shorts and a matching blazer with fishnets, a deep-cut black vest, and the usual black boots for what Chris called "Really Hot Beetlegeuse."
It is all exactly how it was when I checked a minute ago, so I stop stalling and turn to my band.
"I don't know about you guys," I start, squaring my shoulders to try for confidence, "but I want this to be the most fun show we've ever played."
Everyone looks around at each other and then nods.
"Same," Lizzy says.
"I can't go up there crying and look like a little bitch," Asher adds.
Manny smirks. "But you are a little bitch."
"I caught you crying earlier!" He argues.
"I cried," Lukas says with a raised hand and a smile like he is trying to even the playing field.
"So did I," I agree and copy his movement.
"Asher, you literally cried to me on the way to the bathroom before we got back here." Liz scoffs.
He scowls and says, "But I don't want them to see me do it!"
"Then don't." I laugh.
"Fine!"
We are all smiles then, and I look around again.
"Let's go out there and jam like it's 2016," I say, shoving Luke and Manny since they are closest to me.
"But let's actually sound good this time," Liz says with a laugh as Manny extends to shove to her.
"Hell yeah," her brother agrees and starts jumping up and down, shaking out his arms.
"One minute to stage."
I grab Luke's shoulders and turn him to face everyone gathered in the wings, which is almost every single person in the bands, crew, and guests.
"Alright, fuckers!" I shout, making countless heads turn and a few others jump in surprise. "Who's ready to see Lukas Hart tear shit up tonight?!"
The group gathered around cheers, drinks held up, and I watch his face light up. He turns to me and I grin wide, careless like when we were kids.
"We're about to play the best fucking show we've ever played!" I yell again when the cheers die down, and more answer me back.
"Let's fucking go!" Asher cheers and grabs Lukas, jostling him around excitedly.
The twins make their way out to their spots, the lights still down, but the screaming starts. Manny follows them and it picks up more.
Lukas looks at me and for a second, we're back in that green room trying not to break down and ugly cry.
Then, I nod with a reassuring grin and he walks onto the stage.
He steps up to the center riser as we all discussed. I only take my eyes away when Chris squeezes my arm and mouths, "You got this."
The guitar riff to one of our biggest songs starts and I watch as a red spotlight flashes to life on Lukas. He is the only one playing and the only one anybody can see, but the crowd is deafening. I can only hope that the moment is caught on camera half as well as it appears in real life.
His playing slows to a stop and the metronome clicks to life in my ear, counting us in before all four of them morph into a wall of sound and I make my way out to the stage.
It takes my breath away when I see all of the people and hear the screams that I never even could have hoped for a year ago. I can't even try to keep up an intimidating persona with the smile that spreads on my face.
"Holy shit, Scranton!" I call out, and a wave of cheers hits me in response.
We run our first three songs back-to-back without any hiccups. Everyone has a good time and I am already beyond proud of how we have performed. It makes me want to keep going, but I know we need to slow down for a minute.
"How did you all get more beautiful since last year?" I ask into the mic, walking towards the drum riser to grab my water.
The sound of them all without any music is even more breathtaking and I pull out one of my monitors to make sure I can hear.
"I know they make us different on the east coast, but damn!" I continue.
Once I have the microphone in my stand, I take a couple swallows of water and look around.
"Hey, Happy Halloween guys. Do you like my outfit?" I say, turning to show it from each side and then scanning the crowd. "Who's got a cool costume on? You can't come to Motionless in White on Halloween without a costume."
Manny, Lukas, and Liz all join in looking at costumes, sharing the other two microphones to give their own shout outs. We all have our own toned down variations of things, Asher's Joker being the most dedicated and Manny's Michael Myers jumpsuit being the most chill.
Once we've spent far too long going on about costumes, I give our thanks to Motionless in White and all the other bands before carrying on. We do a few more songs, then I am back to talking.
"Maybe I'm going crazy, but," I say while stripping off my blazer and look around, "you guys actually seem happy that we're here.”
The screams go straight through me and to my heart. I see more smiles than I can count in the crowd. It catches me so off guard that I start laughing, looking around at the rest of the band to make sure they're seeing and hearing the same things I am.
Lukas leans into his mic and angles his head up, pointing to the top of the stage. "Is there an 'Applause' sign up there or something?"
"Shit, you're right," I gasp dramatically and rush to the edge of the stage, craning my neck to look up. "I don't see anything!"
There is another sea of smiles and laughter as I walk further onto the stage and make my way to Lukas. He has that grin on his face that I know from years of playing shows together, where I know he is happiest.
It breaks my heart and fills it at the same time.
"Okay, jokes aside, you all have been cool as shit this time so thank you. We've got a couple more songs, but I have to get sappy for a minute," I say, then settle in beside my best friend and wrap my arm around his shoulders.
He smiles sadly at me and then looks away, and I can't blame him.
"I'll make it fast because I know none of us want to dwell on it, but if any of you don't know us that well," I start, "this is Lukas Hart."
The cheers alone almost destroy me again, and I have to take a deep breath.
"Evergreen Agony started back in 2014 as five teenagers jamming to our favorite music in my parents' garage. We've all been good friends for a long time, but this guy right here has been my best friend since we were kids and turned out to be one of the best guitarists I've ever known," I continue.
Luke scoffs half heartedly and laughs, but everyone cheers again.
"In case you don't know, this is his last show with us for now." I sigh. "Luke has put ten insane years into this band, and even more as my friend, and I think tonight has been an amazing culmination of that."
He smiles and gives me a half hug as the crowd roars, including everyone at the sides of the stage.
"But I think we can make it even better," I carry on and step away to get the show going again. "Can you do that?!"
The screaming is muffled as I put my monitor back in and a track starts up. Lizzy's bass riff begins and a large pit opens again as I announce one of our biggest songs.
Like this whole night, it goes by way too fast. We perform through the shortest eight minutes of our lives, but it helps that all of the fans go out of their way to engage with us. I never want it to end, but I'm happy that it's as beautiful as it is.
We drag out and repeat the last chorus of our closing song, Lukas' favorite. I step back and just watch in awe as our small pyrotechnic setup burns, the crowd screams, and Luke steps up on the center riser for an improvised solo that we all agreed he deserves.
The sense of closure wears me down and I let myself finally accept it. In that moment I see everything we have been through, good and bad, and I regret none of it. I look around at my crazy group of misfit friends, every single one wearing the biggest smiles as tears fill their eyes, and I know every moment was worth it.
The last reverberating notes of Lukas' playing ring out and start to drown in the noise from the crowd, and his shoulders and hands drop in conclusion.
"I can't hear you!" I yell into the mic, not ready to let the moment end.
My ears flood with sound as I take my in-ears out and we all gather at the front. The photographer has us take a photo with the crowd at our back and I know it probably won't do much to hide the teary eyes.
Once the shots are taken, we turn back to the audience and Lukas throws his arm around my shoulders, his other around Lizzy. Asher is on her side, Manny at mine. We soak up the steady flow of bittersweet love from everyone in front of us.
I hand the mic off to Luke and gesture to the crowd. He takes it without a second of hesitation.
"Thank you for being the best fans in the world!" Lukas shouts. "We are Evergreen Agony, and we fucking love you!"
CW: smut [thigh riding, oral (m. receiving), handjob, dry humping, power play (if you squint), public setting, praises (both m and f giving and receiving)], swearing, mentions of alcohol
MINORS DO NOT INTERACT (+18 only)
A/N: Hi everyone! Finally I'm able to share what I think it'll be the first part of a mini - series on the "cruise fic". Also, my first time writing (and publishing) smut. Hope it's not too bad. I hope you like it 💜
@runningincircl3s is working on a similar fic, so I wanted to leave to you the idea / wip here.
Disclaimer: These are fictionalized versions of the band members. Their actions and personalities in this story are entirely products of my imagination and are not intended to represent the real people in any way.
The stale smell of the port filled your nostrils making your stomach twist in disgust. You could hear the distinct screech of seagulls which were flying above the gigantic cruise ship docked at the pier.
“MSC Sinfonia” was painted in a navy blue color on its bow.
“What’s it called again?” you said to Chloe, pointing at the letters.
“It’s the name of the ship” she quipped “it’s italian for symphony. Isn’t that poetic?” a grin plastered on her face.
“Oh yeah, greeeat” you retorted dripping with sarcasm. Your forced smile morphing into a frown.
“Oh c’mon Y/N It’ll be amazing! We get two whole weeks for ourselves, to relax, to unwind and maybe, who knows? We get to pick your date for Sarah’s wedding” Emma winked at you.
“I’d like to point out that I had to get quite a hefty chunk of time off work and my boss wasn’t exactly pleased” you answered “Besides, we’re the ones who lower the average age of our “fellow passengers”, who am I supposed to bring to the wedding? My sugar daddy?”
Your three friends erupted into a loud laughter. Your statement wasn’t exactly false. Sarah booked your trip with a company far too expensive for your age-group and off-season.
So there you were, in line with a bunch of 75 year olds, compression socks and all, waiting for your check - in under the midday sun.
The four of you have been best friends since middle school. You’ve always been a tigh - unit that managed to survive the awkwardness of your teenage years, the very first heartbreaks, morphing into full adult women who now shared glasses of wine and discussed work drama. Thinking about Sarah getting married felt surreal. It was a stark reminder of how time slipped through your fingers without any intention of slowing down.
There was something so sweet being a silent witness to each other’s milestones. Although you weren’t that excited about being trapped on a floating boat with a gang of retirees, you couldn’t say no to her. Not for this.
Your heavy luggage hit your shins repeatedly while you were dragging it into the cabin. With a frustrated huff you took the cruise card out of your pocket to unlock your door. Sarah really did splurge on the cruise. Each of you got a separate room; “Just in case something risky happens” Sarah’s words echoed in your head. You couldn’t help it but chuckle to yourself thinking about the elderly crowd you were surrounded by.
Your cabin was nothing less than a hotel room. Though smaller, it had everything you needed: a big queen-size bed, your private bathroom, but especially, a fantastic ocean view.
Although still docked at the pier, you could see the gentle ripple of the ocean, little waves lapping against the hull. Hearing the water splashing, gave you a peaceful relief.
This might actually be fun, you thought to yourself.
A soft knock on the door pulled you out of your thoughts. You found Emma in front of you. “Hun, it’s time to hit the pool” she sang. She was wearing a sheer white cover - up, with her bikini already on.
“How do you manage to get ready this fast?” you asked, incredulous. “There will be time to sort your stuff out, now just bring out your bikini and come with me. Sarah’s orders”.
“Emma we’ve not even left the port, why do we need to get half naked where there’s not even a breath of air softening the heat” you answered frustrated.
“Sometimes I still marvel at how clueless you can actually become” she snickered “Look outside your window.” She pointed out and, lo and behold, the ship actually left the port now cutting through the waves.
The first thing you dug out was your lilac bikini with its matching sarong. You packed your sunscreen, your water and the book you were currently reading, ready to relax and enjoy the peace and quiet.
The gentle breeze shaking through your hair was a welcomed sensation against the scorching heat of the sun. You laid out your towel onto the lounge chair ready to spend the next few hours in a world where work and worries didn’t exist.
Sarah and Emma took a plunge into the fresh pool water, lost in their own little world, where the first one was keeping her friend up to date with wedding preparations and the trials and tribulations that were brought with it.
On the other hand, Chloe had managed to steer you away from your book, describing to you the latest fling she had with one of her coworkers. “Here, I need to show you his texts.”
You were so focused on your friend, that the both of you couldn’t hear the girls calling you out. You snapped out of it because a splash of water soaked your feet.
Emma had her arms crossed against the edge of the pool “Don’t look, but there is a group of guys, like four, no, no five of them, hot. And I mean the Y/N version of hot!” she yelled - whispered, wiggling her eyebrows.
“C’mon Em, I just want to finish with Chloe and go back to my book, I don’t have time for this,” you quipped, annoyed.
She rolled her eyes at you, moving swiftly out of the water, sitting on the lounge chair right in front of you. “They’re covered in ink, would that be interesting to you my darling?” she added suggestively.
For sure, that piqued your attention. As nonchalantly as you could, you tilted your head behind your shoulder, gauging the truth of your friend’s words.
As soon as you laid eyes on them, your body tensed instinctually. Your heart picked up a frantic pace.
They couldn’t be…
They surely weren’t…
On the other side of the pool, huddled up over a few of the lounge chairs, the Bad Omens band, and Davis, was chilling with a few beers in their hands.
You whipped your head back, fixing your gaze on the ocean in front of you as you mumbled something incoherent.
“Oh look” added Sarah, now fully facing them, Emma followed suit. “The tall one is looking over here.” That earned Chloe to look in that direction too, all three of them giggling. Promptly Sarah waved enthusiastically at them “we could go and grab drinks near them or directly with them” she proposed.
“We’ve been here for less than 24 hours and things just got more interesting” Chloe concluded, a sparkling look animated her face.
The three of them stood up ready to make their way. The guys were now all looking at the four of you, amused expressions on their faces.
“Where do you think you’re going?” you started, nervousness seeping through your tone. “They’re your type hun” added Emma “I can’t lie they’re all gorgeous, we’re playing your wingwomen; can we get, like, a cool name? Maybe Y/N’s angels”. The three of them were far into whatever was building in their imagination to notice how you definitely weren’t laughing.
Panic now fully settled. You needed to get out of there before you could embarrass yourself in front of one of your favourite bands.
As calmly as you could you scrambled “You go ahead, I have to pee real bad, I’ll catch up to you in a bit.”
Without waiting for a comeback, you hastily took your towel and you sarong, nearly tripping over your flip-flops, your eyes focused on the exit. Your feet hurried you along. Phone long forgotten on the lounge chair beside your sunscreen.
Once you felt safe, you released a long breath: let the hide and seek game begin!
You knew your friends had very good intentions towards you, and, specifically, they lacked the very fundamental information of who the boys were. As much as you tried to present your music taste to the girls, it never really caught on among the group.
They were just aware that tattoos were somewhat attractive to you and knowing all too well about your disastrous past experiences in love matters, they decided to take the matter into their own hands.
What started as a temporary cover up, turned into a full blown retreat from social life. You picked up your book from the pool and, without your phone, managed to finish it in one go.
A hard knock on the door startled you awake. When did you fall asleep? You could feel the corner of your mouth slightly damp with drool. You shot up on your bed, confused, having lost track of time. Artificial lighting filtered through the curtains.
Did I really sleep that much?
You didn’t even fully open the door that your ears were hit with a cacophony of voices. Three pairs of eyes landed on you: bikini still on, hair tangled from sleep, a light redness covering your skin from suntanning.
“YOU HAD US SCARED SHITLESS Y/N” Chloe shouted, colliding heavily with your shoulder getting into the room.
“Yeah, hun” continued Emma “what happened?” her voice was laced with worry.
Your head was still groggy from sleep attempting to scramble something coherent for them. You managed to croak out “Sorry girls, I know, I just… I don’t know what happened.”
“You know, at one point even Nick started to get preoccupied,” Sarah added. “We thought that something was wrong, but Jolly reassured us that, if that were the case, the loudspeakers would’ve been activated” she concluded.
You sat at the edge of your bed, loudly leaning back on the mattress, arms coming up to rest on the headboard. “I guess you met the group of men we saw this morning, then.” You tried to sound disinterested.
A knowing smirk circled through the girls giggling together. That sound brought you back when you were teenagers facing your first crushes. “Oh yes we have” Emma started “and I think it will be an interesting two weeks” she nodded frantically.
Instinctively you rolled your eyes at them “Are you already so captivated with them?”
“They’re fascinating, what can I say?” Chloe quipped, going through your closet, scattering clothes onto your bed.
“Wait, what happened to “the Y/N’s version of hot”? you retorted, giving a really bad impression of Emma’s voice.
“You are dirty minded, aren’t you?” Emma came into view, nudging you. Propping yourself to your elbows just to assess what was happening you heard Sarah say “WE” gesturing the three of them “WE wouldn’t fuck ‘em. They’re not our type. But you, on the other hand” she said suggestively “you’d be having fun babe.”
“They’re very interesting people, easy to talk to,” added Chloe. “They are musicians” Emma cut through a grin plastered on your face.
“Oh, I see” the color drained from your face.
“Yeah right? H O T” Emma and Sarah, now, turned their attention to Chloe, still focused on choosing your clothes for dinner.
Your surprised realization didn’t stem from finding out what they did for a living, obviously, rather from the sudden epiphany that the band didn’t scare the girls away. They welcomed them with open arms.
FOR FUCK’S SAKE.
Dinner passed through a haze of swirls of voices mixed together, the buzzing of the lights above your heads and the occasional clicking of glasses every time one of the girls wanted to toast about something.
Fortunately for you, the boys didn’t show up during dinner.
“Now, Y/N, there’s a surprise for youuu” Chloe sang while taking a sip of her wine. You chuckled, amused by the tipsy singsongy tone of your friend. “Aren’t we here to celebrate Sarah’s engagement?”
“Duh, but when life gives you lemons…” Sarah answered promptly.
“Anyways, because you were MIA, we got drinks with them whilst waiting for you. Turns out, they very kindly offered us four spots for a private boat excursion tomorrow.”
Your mouth dried up. Since when do you offer a trip to four strangers, like out of the blue?
A tight smile appeared on your face “Fantastic” you blurted out.
“Oh yeah, that’s what I’m talking about” Emma added “no retirees, no dentures and compression socks, just us the “inked - up crew”. You visibly cringed at their nickname.
Silence fell at the table, everyone was lost in their own thoughts when, all of a sudden, Chloe added “Just fyi Y/N, there’s your grumpy counterpart even in their group”
“I’m not grumpy” you retorted a bit too quickly, earning a laugh from your friends.
“He mostly keeps to himself, doesn’t really talk and I feel like he just resents everything and everyone” Emma spoke deep in thought.
That comment didn’t put you off in the slightest. On the contrary, it gave you a very good detail about their humanity; in a way that seemed to be grounding. They were there not as international rockstars but as five friends seeking some good time and relaxing.
The next morning you stood over the coffee station, humming in appreciation of the smell surrounding the small space. Your undereyes matched in colour with your black hoodie you put on for breakfast.
You didn’t get that many hours of sleep last night, nervous about how today was going to unfold. You must’ve bore a hole into the ceiling.
You felt so annoyed with yourself because of the way you were reacting. It wasn’t so much about the guys but what they created. Bad Omens has been a trusted witness to different difficult moments in your life, giving voice to the pain and suffering otherwise unspoken. What if meeting them meant losing the spark, the magic behind every listen of their music.
You hugged your mug tightly still basking in that delicious smell. You spotted your friends. They had carefully annexed a couple more tables to the one they were creating, basically, a VIP area in the lounge.
“Are we having breakfast or are we banqueting with the Queen?” you asked dryly.
“Good morning to you too sweetheart” answered Sarah, a bit too brightly considering the amount of alcohol she consumed last night.
Without even looking up from her breakfast sandwich, Chloe said “we’re waiting for the guys, silly, we talked about that last night.”
“Actually” Emma whispered, nudging you, “they were right behind you.”
Perfectly timed, you heard seats screeching across the floor. A sea of ink and black garments settled onto the chairs.
“Good morning ladies” Jolly opened the conversation. There was a collective nod from each of the boys then, quietly, everyone got on eating their breakfast.
That gave you the perfect excuse to look properly at them. Your friends were right, they were even more handsome than the photos led.
Yet, it wasn’t their beauty that caught your attention. It was their deeply human and raw features. Through the gentle light of the lounge room, you could make out their acne scars littering their faces. Folio’s face was shadowed by a light stubble. Ruffilo’s complexion had acquired a warm, suntanned tone, allowing his clear eyes to pop out more.
But what struck you the most was observing their postures. Now a bit slumped, relaxed, stripped of their rockstar presence. They didn’t have the magnetic lore of performing anymore. In that moment, you felt like the invisible barrier that you put on was crumbling piece by piece. You were convinced that, to an outsider, you could potentially be seen as a bunch of ordinary thirty-somethings year, old looking for a good time.
“So, I guess we’re finally introduced to the fugitive,” Ruffilo said, a warm smile on his face. “I’m Nick, these are Folio, Jolly, Davis” he continued pointing to his friends, each of them giving you a nod of acknowledgement.
“Sooner or later we’ll be joined by Noah” Davis cut through. “He’s probably still sleeping,” he chuckled.
You smiled politely, nursing your cup of coffee whilst listening to what day was ahead of you. But then, you heard it: heavy footsteps approaching your table. A very hard pull of the chair right across from you and a silent thud once he was seated.
Noah.
He didn’t even acknowledge you or your friends. He just gave a little nod to the boys, just to pick up his phone, scrolling mindlessly.
The air definitely changed once he came. From the corner of your eye, you could see Sarah straightening her posture, Chloe’s genuine smile, turned into something more forced. Emma just lowered her gaze, now fully focused on her fruit salad.
What happened to the approachable, kind, fascinating guys?
“So, y/n” Davis was the first one to break the tension “last night we heard all about you,” he smiled warmly, attempting to dissolve a bit of the tension.
“Yeah, we heard you are the brains of the group, a very clever woman,” Jolly added.
As if the rainy cloud of Noah’s attitude was lifted, Emma nodded frantically “Yes, she just finished her phd. Tell ‘em hun.”
Folio’s brows shot up “A phd? Damn, It’s my first time meeting a doctor” he quipped, sipping his coffee. “How would you prefer to be called from now on? Doc? Doctor? The cleverest of them all?” he laughed.
That earned a genuine reaction from everyone at the table, snorts and giggles followed. Everyone did, except Noah who stubbornly kept his slumped posture and his eyes on his screen.
“It’s in forensic anthropology” added Chloe, swirling around her glass of orange juice. “It’s so cool, basically she just digs up bones and analyzes them, right babe?”
A flush of heat crept up your neck and your cheeks. “Yeah, it’s basically it. It’s for legal investigations. Nothing too interesting. Mostly it’s just time in a lab and then a ton of paperwork for the legal part of it” you downplayed, not wanting to attract more attention to you.
“I guess you ladies chose the right trip” Noah chimed in out of the blue looking at you through his lashes. “Play your cards well, and you’ll get a couple of real - time field consultations before we hit the next stop” he mocked. Before anyone could reply, he just resumed whatever he was doing with his phone.
The table went dead silent.
Ruffilo glared a sharp look towards Noah, while your friends' movements stilled.
That little comment ignited something deep, furious inside you. He just devalued years of hard work and sacrifices just to get what? A cheap joke at the expense of the elderly you were sharing the cruise with?
The silence that followed was heavy, thick with tension. Everyone was ready to pick up the pieces once it was snapped. Their eyes darted between each other, worry flashing through their faces, waiting for your reaction.
Though surprised and hurt, you kept your cool, shoulders squared, you retorted in the calmest way you mustered: “I’ll keep that in mind. I do, in fact, analyze beings with no brain activity and social responsiveness. But they’re usually dead” a pitying look blooming on your face. “Looking across the table, it’s wonderful to see someone who meets all the criteria while still breathing. If you want to come by, I’d like to deepen my knowledge of your wonderful case” you finished, a smug look on your face.
You could feel the suppressed laughter from the boys, Folio choking on his breakfast sandwich, while Davis was suddenly interested in stirring his cup of tea.
For the first time, Noah put away his phone, locking his gaze with yours. The condescending look he had before twisted into something darker, defiant, challenging, as if a new pact had just formed between the two of you.
After what felt like eternity, you gently stood up “I’ll go get changed then, see you in twenty?” Your friends nodded dumbfounded as you left.
The tables had just turned. Now that you knew Noah wasn’t exactly keen on having you and your friends around, you just had the perfect excuse to keep your distance after this trip.
Just this trip Y/N, it will all be over before you know it and then, you can go back to the regular schedule: celebrating Sarah’s wedding.
Pressed between two elderly couples, you felt restless, your foot bounced up and down in anticipation. You were disembarking for the first stop of the cruise but, of course, you being late, lost the others ending up there.
Irritation began prickling your skin, now sticky because of all the sunscreen you had to put on. You didn’t know what to expect, and new situations experienced with strangers wasn’t your top activity imagined on this cruise. Doing them while sweating through your clothes added an extra layer of challenge that you definitely didn’t want.
Your thoughts were interrupted by the buzzing of your phone: Chloe was calling you
“Y/N where are you?” her voice popped through the speaker.
“I’m trying to get to the pier, but I’m surrounded by sloths” you growled, annoyance clear in your voice
“Please, hurry along because I think Noah’s getting frustrated” she said
“And what am I? Some sort of antidote to his frustration? I don’t need to calm him down, I’m not being intentionally late.” You could feel your stomach burning more and more with sheer anger.
Once freed from the sea of pastel colour shirts and straw hats, you rushed to the pier. The sight that greeted you, was hilarious: a bunch of tatted up dudes wearing exclusively black, the only pop of colour given by the art on their graphic shirts, talking animatedly with the girliest of girls you could imagine: pinks and lilacs bikinis with their matching scrunchies, raffia beach bag on one hand, sunglasses on the other.
Between these two worlds colliding, stood, propped on a wooden piling, Noah. Even if he had his sunglasses on, you could clearly see the frustration in his features: his jaw was clenched shut, arms tightly crossed on his chest, tapping his foot onto the wooden pier deck. He wasn’t involved in their conversation, you just assumed that he was brooding over whatever was on his mind.
Once you reached the group, a little out of breath, you puffed: “Sorry guys, didn’t mean to be this late”
“Don’t worry darling,” said Jolly warmly, “we’re on vacation! We can have some leniency on punctuality:” He pointed at the white small catamaran docked a few feet away.
“C’mon man, “leniency”? Have you started to use big words just to impress her?” joked Folio, slapping his mate on his shoulder.
A few chuckles broke within the group while you all made your way toward the boat.
“Don’t waste your time Jolly” Noah muttered sourly, placing his sunglasses over his head “she lacks the basic manners to know that being late isn’t a quirky personality trait but a very impolite thing” his voice dripping with disdain “we’ve been baking under the sun for twenty minutes because she just couldn’t get ready before breakfast?”
In a swift motion, he moved so that his tall frame was towering over yours, his eyes piercing through yours “Just a friendly reminder that you are not the main character here. So get your shit together” he concluded.
You were frozen on the spot. Heart racing so fast that you feared it could burst out of your chest. Your mouth dried up instantly, heat rising from your chest up to your cheeks.
With a triumphant smile, Noah moved towards the catamaran. His strut was suddenly stopped by a big hand planted on his chest, holding him back. “Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” Nicholas said through gritted teeth. “What’s wrong with you man?” Jolly chimed in, frustrated.
Davis got closer to Noah, looking him straight in the eyes “You’re behaving like a spoiled brat ever since the very beginning of this trip. We can tolerate your hissy fits, but taking them out on them, on HER” the man pointed at you, now practically screaming on Noah’s face “that’s when I draw the line.”
“We’ve invited them to this trip” Folio added “WE” gesturing to the four boys “enjoy their company, so, if you don’t, you can get lost. Get the fuck away. We don’t need sulking shadows hunting the boat. Get fucked Noah, we’ll see you on the cruise ship at dinner.”
Noah’s frame flinched backwards imperceptibly as if he was taken aback by the harsh words his friends gave to him. For a fraction of a second, you could see that his face went through several emotions: surprise, hurt, but then hardened into something unreadable. He closed his fist on both sides and, without saying another word, started walking back, in long strides, towards the little coastal village.
Once Noah’s frame was out of sight, a collective sigh ran through the group. “Y/N are you okay?” Sarah waltzed closer to you, putting her hands on your shoulders. That touch made you realize that you were still frozen in the same position from a few minutes before, muscles beginning to ache from the strain. You timidly nodded, afraid that, if you spoke, all hell broke loose.
Ruffilo came into view, his eyes sporting a very worried expression. “We’re so sorry sweetheart. I don’t have any justifiable reason for the way he’s been treating you. I don’t know what got into him.”
You cleared your throat, trying to compose yourself. “That’s alright guys, you don’t have control over the behaviour of another person.” A small smile appeared although your eyes were swelling up with tears. “I can understand that we were not planned, in your trip itinerary, so I can see why he’s not that happy about it” a dry laugh left your mouth “my friends can be” you paused looking for the right words “a bit pushy, if you will”.
“Don’t you even say that” Jolly cut in “we really like you, we want to spend time with you all. It was a welcomed surprise when we realized we were not the only young people out of the hundreds of passengers.” He practically bear hugged you. Although very welcomed, you couldn’t help but be very aware of the light sheen of sweat covering both of you making the hug a bit sticky.
“Well” Folio quipped enthusiastically “I guess we should board, Noah’s tantrum made us even more late.”
The mood suddenly shifted, laughter and banter filled the air, as if the dark clouds disappeared and the sun came through once again.
Unfortunately for you, you couldn’t shake it off as easily as the others. Frankly, you weren’t already in the mood for the excursion before all the theatrics went down, now you just wanted to get into your bed and disappear for the rest of the trip just to be sure to never meet Noah ever again.
“You guys just go ahead, I think I’m going back to the cruise ship, I feel a headache coming on and direct sunlight is not the best way to fight it” you waved weakly to them.
Your friends just saw right through you. Sad expressions adorned their faces but they didn’t push it. Not even the boys.
“You have fun guys, I’m curious to know all about it tonight” a warmer, more genuine smile now on your face. You waited for them to set sail waving at them goodbye.
The walk back to the ship felt way longer than the hurried run you had to do on the way out.
The whole interaction was replaying frame by frame in your head. Thoughts and emotions were swirling around. You were confused and surprised about how the whole situation changed multiple times in a matter of a few hours.
Finding out you were sharing a cramped cruise ship with one of your favourite bands;
Them being very sweet and down to earth;
Noah being an asshole.
The irony hit you there and then: “Just a friendly reminder that you are not the main character here”. How rich coming from the fucking frontman of a band who performs in front of thousands of people every night. A bitter laugh came through.
Questions remained unanswered:
Was he always like this or was it a special treatment just for you?
Did you do anything wrong to upset him?
On one hand you could understand the irritation coming from him, he was always around people and the one time he could enjoy some peace and quiet, he was surrounded by a very loud, very chaotic group of girls. But then, he didn’t have any right to treat you all this way.
The hot midday sun was burning your skin, so, once the Sinfonia opened its door welcoming with the cold air of the AC, you couldn’t help but relax in relief.
The ship was eerily quiet. Everyone was out, enjoying and exploring the village. Even some parts of the ship were shut down, the staff seeming more laid back. The hallways swallowed the clacking of your flip flops.
Your phone buzzed in your hand
Coco: sent a photo
Coco: missing you hun. The sea is perfect! Sarah’s having a blast and Emma is talking Davis’ ear off about comics. We love you 💜
You: you all look soo good. Tonight in my room I WANT THE JUCY PARTS. Thank you very much. 😌
Coco: oh trust me, it is happening. Just don’t rip Noah’s face off until we’re back.
You: 🙄
You decided to get to the highest deck possible, and be there for a while. If you couldn’t be on the boat with your friends, you should be able to enjoy the ship you were on at least.
The room was a semi-open lounge, with big clear windows that offered a panoramic view of the ocean.
The view was breathtaking. From where you were, you could admire the whole coast line dotted with beaches. Stone pines gave the scenery a beautiful deep green colour that made a fantastic contrast with the golden shade of the sand and the deep blue of the water.
A light sea breeze picked up, combing through your hair. You closed your eyes, basking in that feeling, even tasting a faint hint of salt on your lips.
Once your breath evened out, you turned around in order to find a spot to curl up and dive into the story you were reading. Scanning through the room, your heart dropped to your stomach.
Slouched on an armchair, legs propped against a coffee table in front of him, stood Noah. This time he didn’t have his hood pulled up or his phone under his nose. He simply was staring outside the windows, jaw clenched, fingers rhythmically tapping against the armrest. He looked irritated, defeated, his usual delicate features seemed harsher, brows furrowed into a pained expression, lower lip caged between his teeth.
Your very first instinct was to bolt out. He didn’t even see you, you can flee, now. He looked angry, you didn’t want to fuel that.
Unfortunately pride, and a bit of desire to stir him up, to gauge his limits, took over. Running away meant declaring defeat, that he had absolute power over you. So you straightened up, gripping at your bag, you tried to relax your muscles just to give that nonchalant look.
With a blank expression on your face, you made your way towards his section of the lounge. Your frame missed his by mere millimeters.
You deliberately chose to sit on the armchair just across from him, both of your figures separated by that tiny coffee table with Noah’s feet on top. Not even sparing him a glance, you cuddled up, knees to your chest, beginning to read.
Noah didn’t move a muscle, he just followed you with his gaze. A teeny faint of amusement colored his face. He knew exactly what you were doing.
Neither of you said a word.
The silence that settled was suffocating, heavy with an unspoken, dragging friction. The lounge was completely deserted, making the low, rhythmic hum of the ship’s engines feel entirely too loud.
You were too aware of the energy radiating from Noah. Your plan of blending in with the background was failing miserably. From where you were sitting, you could feel his heavy breathing, his hand flexing against his thigh every few seconds. Your stomach flipped, an instinctual reaction that you couldn’t control. Your eyes were fixed on his hand, now rubbing small, agonizing, circles on the exposed skin from his shorts, too aware of the slight outlines of his veins popping out of his forearm when he flexed it.
Your mind betrayed you. It conjured up fantasies that had no business being there given what was said to you a few hours before on the pier. It was an involuntary, cruel reaction. Your body wasn’t innocent either. It set a trap for you, clearly not caring about what memories served you. Your hands gripped tightly the edges of the book, concentrating on evening out your breathing which, once again, was getting more uneven.
You hated him. You needed to hate him. Your pride was hurt. You’ve been humiliated.
Apparently, your body gave zero fucks about pride, because pressure was building between your thighs and it was growing fast.
Abruptly, his movements stopped, your breath hitched but you stood still, just refocusing your eyes onto the page, pretending to be deeply interested in the story.
From the corner of your eyes, you noticed Noah shifting his weight, lowering his legs from the coffee table, now leaning forward. His elbows rested against his knees. He was so close, that you could smell mint from the gum he was chewing. “Careful doc” he started. He stared at your face, gaze heavy and completely amused. “You’re gonna bore a hole through the page” his devaluating tone from before left space for dangerous mockery laced with something else that you couldn’t identify yet.
What a prick! You though
The air between the two of you was getting more and more charged. His words hung in that space mixed with a not so quiet smugness radiating from him.
He thought he had you cornered. Didn’t he? Oh Sebastian, how wrong you are! Two can play the same game.
Slowly, deliberately, you uncurled your legs beneath you, mimicking his current position. You snapped closed your book, placing it onto the table. The gap closed even more, bringing your faces just a couple of feet away from each other.
You didn’t look away. Instead, you took your sweet time to shamelessly take in his frame. From his tattooed hands, your gaze moved onto his wrists, where a few bracelets sat, to, then, lifted up to his throat and then his lips. You lingered there, your tongue absentmindedly wetting your own lips, before locking eyes with him.
An intensely sweet smile formed on your lips “I was just wondering: all that twitchy energy you have, is it because you’re about to snap…” you tilted your head now getting even closer to him, eyes darkening “or are you just in desperate need of a distraction?”
The smug expression on Noah’s face faded completely. He froze. His shoulders went completely rigid. You could see his knuckles under his chin, getting whiter.
You wanted to take control and you had it now. It made your head spin. Revelling in that sensation was intoxicating. The final confirmation was hearing his breath hitch.
Though, his eyes never left yours, now scanning your face just to assess even a hint of bluffing or hesitation. But you held your stance, your eyes focused, dark. Yet, your heart was hammering against your ribs, you couldn’t tell if it was from fear or from seeing him completely breathless.
No one dared to back down. You were observing, studying the other person. In real time, you watched Noah’s shocked gaze melting into something primal, almost predatory. He got even closer, you could now feel the warmth of his breath. “Beware, babygirl, if you play with fire long enough, you’ll get the burn you’re looking for.”
Before waiting for a reply, Noah crashed his lips into yours. It wasn’t sweet, it wasn’t delicate. It was desperate, raw, as if, in that kiss, Noah put all the pent up tension he had. His large hand found your clipped hair, flicking the clip open. He tangled his fingers in the loose strands, tugging just enough to tilt your head back . That earned a gasp from you. He took the chance to use his tongue deepening the kiss.
It was a power play, a battle over who was the first to submit. Your hands found the back of his neck and, with all the force you had, pressed his head against yours as if the closeness you were experiencing wasn't enough.
The kiss broke, both of you a bit out of breath. Your head was buzzing, the logical side of you completely switched off. You didn’t care about understanding what was happening, figuring out what this meant; you just wanted him, and that was all that mattered.
On the other hand, you could tell that Noah was a bit more grounded, his mind realising what he, well you both, had just done. “I didn’t mean to be this rash” a tinge of worry in his voice “I don’t know what came over me.” He was already moving away from you, when you stopped him, hand still on the back of his neck.
Tentatively he asked “do you want this?” looking at you square in the eyes. You nodded. “I need words baby” he said, still a bit out of breath.
“Yes, I want it Noah, I want you” you said firmly. “Do YOU want this?”
“C’mere” he rasped, pulling you onto his lap.
He snaked his arms around your naked back, feeling his warmth envelopping you. Your bikini and his shorts already gave away your excitement. Capturing his lips into your, you tentatively rolled your hips onto his already half hard cock earning a deep growl from him.
“Just like that babygirl, let me feel how eager you are” he purred into your ear. “Do you want me to fuck that pretty little pussy of yours?” you whined picking up the pace.
All too aware of the surroundings, you muffled your moans by nipping at his neck, a dance between teeth and tongue, with the sole goal of leaving visible marks on him.
The power shifted once again. Noah gripped your hips, his fingers digging into the plush skin as he ground them against him. Now, his movements were deliberate, heavy, his crotch meeting your clothed center.
“Ride my thigh” Noah moaned into your hair. The words didn’t register at first, too blissed out by the friction.
Suddenly, he halted all of his movements. Moving you like a ragdoll, he lifted you up. You whimpered at the loss of contact. “Already too gone to follow simple orders, kitten?” His voice dropped an octave. “Be a good girl and take your bottoms off.” You obliged. Goosebumps broke out across your skin.
It was dizzying, the friction of skin to skin, the way his tight muscles mirrored your every movement.
“Noah” your voice broke into a high pitched moan escaping your lips. He looked down at you, a smug smirk settling on his face “You’re making a mess angel. I can feel how wet you are.” The sheer arrogance in his tone did nothing to hide his hard on straining against the fabric of his shorts.
He looked completely focused on you, while keeping his desires under lock and key. His jaw clenched, his throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, love bites starting to bloom on his tattooed skin.
He was a vision.
You shifted your attention, hands now sliding down to his toned chest, feeling the frantic thud of his heart against his ribs.
“Look at me” you commanded. His half-lidded eyes locked into yours, sporting that ever present smugness. Resuming your movements, dragging your skin against his, you began caressing his mid section getting lower and lower. You smiled, feeling his muscles contracting under your touch. “Let me feel you,” you drawled.
Your fingertips traced the soft hair on his happy trail, following the dark pattern that dipped lower, disappearing underneath the drawstring of his shorts.
The smugness faltered on his face. His smirk vanished, replaced by a sharp, ragged intake of breath as his muscles contracted under your hands.
You took your time exploring him still under the fabric. His cock felt heavy in your hand, you could tell he was thick, long. That sensation was enough to unravel the darkest fantasies you had.
The flickering of a light bulb was enough to activate the ticking clock in the back of your mind: you were too aware of your surroundings. The threat of someone walking in on you fueled the frantic desire coursing through your veins.
There was no time for gentleness. You hook your fingers under the drawstrings of his shorts, tugging them down. Noah let out a ragged groan as his cock sprung free, heavy, thick, pre-cum glistening his tip. He was magnificent, making your mouth water with anticipation.
Without breaking eye contact, you brought your hand to your lips, spitting directly into your palm, a thin strand of saliva still connecting it with your mouth.
The lewd, sloppy sound echoed through the room, making Noah’s pupils even darker, his breathing picking up.
Your wet fingers wrapped around his length, slowly begging to stroke, coating him from top to bottom. Noah let out a deep, defeated gasp, giving up any restraint that he had before.
He was completely at your mercy. And God, you absolutely loved it. The shift in power was intoxicating, being the one to coax those delicious sounds from him was the best reward. Your pleasure momentarily forgotten, you focused completely on him.
“Fuck Y/N” Noah moaned. His head dropped forward, nestling into the crook of your neck. You could feel his cheeks heating up, flushing up a deeper pink colour. His labored breathing hitched against your skin, shoulders beginning to tremble a little.
Pumping him, you could feel his cock starting to twitch and pulse in your hand. “Let me hear you sweet boy. How are you feeling?” A choked, desperate sound left his mouth. His hips involuntarily started to buck into your fist. A particular hard stroke had Noah almost scream out your name.
But your thirst for him wasn’t quenched yet, you needed to see him unravelling completely.
“Pretty boy” you purred, your voice laced with a cruel and sweet authority. “Eyes on me. I wanna see you cum.” Your hand shot up, gripping his jaw, forcing his head back.
His gaze devoid completely of the arrogance he had before, now glazed over raw desire and complete surrender.
“I’m gonna cum…Fuck…please Y/N” yelled Noah, already too far gone to keep his voice in check.
“Where do you want me, babe?”
“Your…your mouth” he huffed.
A slow, wicked smile spread across your face. “I’ll accommodate just this once” you murmured, sliding off his lap and dropping to your knees on the floor between his thighs. “Only because they could be back any second.”
You looked up at him from below your lashes, your hand never leaving his length. Noah’s chest rose and fell in heavy, ragged cycles, his eyes tracking your every movement with desperation. This fucked out look particularly suited him. Hair tousled, clinging to his forehead, lips slightly parted red and swollen, a pink hue dotted on his cheeks. “You’ve been such a good boy for me,” you whispered against the swollen head of his cock, letting your warm breath ghost over his skin until he whimpered.
Without making him wait another second, you wrapped your lips around him, taking him deep into your mouth. Above you, Noah choked out a sob, his fingers instantly flying to your hair, anchoring himself. It didn’t take long for you to feel his release, warm and thick, covering your throat. His orgasm hit him hard, head flying back, limbs shaking violently. You rode it out with him, swallowing every last drop.
Noah was slumped against the armchair, completely drained, his eyes closed. The frantic rhythm of your breaths slowing down was the only sound that filled the empty room and the lingering scent of heat and skin the only witness of what’d just happened.
You stayed there for a moment, still on your knees, your arousal aching between your own legs. You couldn’t tell why, but the thought of having given pleasure to Noah far outweighed the possibility of your own orgasm. So, you chose to ignore it, prioritizing the quiet shift in the air.
As repetitive as it sounded, he looked divine. The post sex glow really did look good on him. Hair stuck on his skin, his head was resting on the chair, exposing his neck. Chest still heaving, panting, trying to catch up on his breathing. You reached out, your thumb brushing over his damp forehead, pushing back a strand of dark hair. He leaned into your touch with a sigh. He opened his eyes, dark and glassy, looking at you with a softness that felt like miles away from the man you encountered the day before or even this morning. He looked unguarded, his arrogant persona completely deconstructed for a glimpse of just him. Noah. You couldn’t tell what that implied, but you felt like something shifted. Not just between you two, but, especially, in you. Softness warmed your chest.
He didn't say a word, just let his hand rest on the nape of your neck, pulling you just a fraction closer so your foreheads rested against each other. The closeness was overwhelming; you could feel the erratic beat of his heart slowing down against your hand gently spread across his chest.
"My turn next," he muttered, his voice a whisper, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw. "I owe you. I'm going to make sure you…" he was cut off by an aggressive vibration that shattered the stillness. Your phone, tucked into your discarded bag, lit up. You didn't move at first, but the persistent ding of a facetime call, cut through the haze. You glanced over, an annoyed huff leaving your lips. The screen flashed a group name: your friends.
Just as quickly as it came on, the spell snapped. The little bubble of intimacy, of lingering gazes and hungry touches was on the verge of bursting. The outside world called, intruding in a space that, you both wished, was just yours a little bit longer. Noah’s hand dropped from your neck, his expression hardening into the one you were introduced to as reality rushed back in.
Ooh can I ask for a hc on the Bad Omens boys with a curvy female reader? Both nsfw and sfw?
i’m gonna be sooooo self indulgent with this one anon 💕
cw: 18 + 𝖒𝖉𝖓𝖎. plus size!reader, mention of body image and insecurities, fluff, suggestive.
Folio adores your tummy. Maybe it’s been one of your biggest insecurities, something you often try to hide, wishing you could somehow disguise the softness beneath layers that only make you feel like a meringue cake, overly fluffy and puffy. Despite that, his hands always seem to end up there, slipping beneath your shirt when you’re home alone and he’s standing behind you, or resting his head there while you lie together watching a movie. Sometimes he’ll even grip at your love handles absentmindedly.
Most of your insecurities melt away when it comes to him, because he doesn’t just make you feel adored, he makes you feel desired; the gleam in his eye is unmistakable whenever he looks at you.
He especially loves having you sit in his lap while he practices drumming, your back pressed against his chest as his arms move around you, drumsticks tapping away while his hands occasionally drift from the kit just to squeeze at your hips or rest over your stomach. He swears you help to keep him focused, his muse, but really, he just likes any excuse to keep you close.
He’s also your biggest hype man, encouraging you to wear the outfit you were too shy to put on. He loves when you dress up, whether it’s for a show or a date, because it gives him another excuse to show you off.
Noah’s biggest cliché is that he loves having something to grab onto. Whether it’s your stomach, your thighs, or your ass, he loves touching you all over. It feels almost like worship, the way he notices every little thing, his own quiet devotion slipping through in soft murmurs before he starts complimenting everything he loves about you on those harder days, when you feel wrong inside your body, too much, wishing you could somehow shrink away. On those days, he usually just holds you tighter.
While he normally loves feeling the weight of you on him, his fingers soft against your stretch marks with every tracing touch, there are moments where he’ll practically squish you beneath his own body instead, wrapping himself around you just to make you feel as small and protected as you want. His endless devotion for you even extends to sizing up in shirts or hoodies if he has to, simply so the two of you can share them comfortably.
On top of this, there’s no bigger sign that he’s a thighs man when it comes to you than the way he constantly begs to bury his head between them. He doesn’t care if you’re worried about being ‘too heavy’, if he asks you to sit on his face, he means it. Let the man die doing what he loves.
There’s no doubt that Nicholas adores you. Between his sweet words of affirmation and the countless ways he makes you feel wanted and desired, he has a talent for loving you loudly, especially on the days when you’re struggling the most. He’ll sit and listen to you, soft and patient, saying all the right things until you finally start to believe them too, giving you that little boost of confidence you’d been searching for.
It doesn’t matter whether you’re alone together or surrounded by other people, he always seems to want you in his lap, his face buried against your chest or his head resting there like it’s second nature. You’ve teased him about it more times than you can count, but he never denies that it’s one of his favourite things about you, among many others.
Jolly has a way of making your confidence skyrocket with even the most casual touches, knowing exactly how to brush his hand against you, guide you closer, or lean in with the kind of kiss that leaves you flustered and your stomach full of butterflies.
There’s something effortless about the way he makes you feel desired, like it’s the most natural thing in the world for him to look at you with that much admiration. He’ll even go out of his way to buy clothes he wants to see you in, pieces he knows would look incredible on you, always requesting a little fashion show afterward, just so he can sit back and bask in your beauty while complimenting every one of his favourite details.
He never brushes off your insecurities, though he can be very direct in the way he handles them, because to him, there genuinely isn’t anyone more beautiful than you. Honestly, he’d probably suggest a boudoir shoot at some point too, convinced that seeing yourself through his eyes might finally make you realise it.
are you a cuddle bug? whether you’re searching for romance or a platonic connection, there’s someone out there for everyone. browse people in your area and find your perfect cuddle buddy.
Series Summary: Estella Kostas never realized her little band would actually make it. None of them did. They were clueless, put their trust in the wrong people and made enemies out of people they never wanted to. But after teetering on the brink of career collapse as the world shuts down, they manage to make it out alive—barely—and desperately attempt to heal and redeem themselves.
But some things never change, some damage is harder to control, and the damage of the industry-sewn Motionless in White rivalry seems to be one of those things. Chris Motionless and Estella finally build a bridge to turn around years of conflict, but that bridge becomes a lot more complicated than it seems.
Content: 18+ mdni, past enemies-to-friends-to-lovers, age gap (12 years), fluff, angst, mental health struggles, broken family, references to professional abuse/manipulation/coercion, substance use (alcohol, marijuana), sexual situations, smut
Content note: these are general things to be aware of; each chapter will have a specific list that may be more detailed
Current word count: 83.8k
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✵ = smut (note: these usually will not be plot heavy, can be read standalone or skipped)
Summary: Estella is faced with an impossible, devastating situation and continues to succumb to her vices, but an instinctual phone call ends up leading her towards hope.
a/n: only 25 and an epilogue after this, honestly I’m in awe that I made it this far I’ve been avoiding posting because it’s making me sad 💔
one week later
My head swims as I look down at the glass in front of me, the few remaining ounces of amber liquid staring back. It is completely still, holding its breath just like I am to see who will make the next move.
My entire house, small as it might be, is silent. I can't tell if it's in anticipation or taunting, but it's just so, so quiet.
That's the problem. There's no gothic classic playing on the TV, no coffee machine buzzing, no rustle of fabric against fabric, no soft laughter, no music, no puzzle or game pieces.
It's all in my head, making the volume of my thoughts unbearable. The words that echo there are bad enough without the added spotlight of sickening stillness around me.
My laptop still sits before me on the table and if I look at it, I swear I can still see Luke's face. I can see all of their faces in little pixelated boxes and hear his voice even though the screen has been dark for hours now.
"You guys are the best thing that has ever happened to me, but I've been thinking a lot," he said.
"And I think I need to walk away. . . from this."
Fucking Lukas.
Goddamn it.
The burning comes back to my eyes again and I squeeze them shut. It doesn't ease the pain and it doesn't stop the tears from building, but a girl can hope. That's what I do best, after all: bottle my emotions away.
What am I supposed to do?
My arm is abnormally heavy, hand moving slowly as I reach out and grab my phone. The screen lights up as I tap it and then it's ringing. I must have tapped it more than once if a call is trying to connect.
Everything is a little blurry, but I take another drink from my half empty glass.
The ringing stops.
"Hey, since when don't you send a text before calling?" JD asks, voice crackling a little from the mediocre connection.
"Sorry, uh, I wasn't thinking," I say while trying to keep my voice as steady as possible.
Clearly it doesn't work.
"What's wrong?”
His tone is less playful. I can already see him sitting up on his couch, focusing in on the details like he does best. He probably wasn't the best person to call, but he has friendships in the scene that I need.
I take a deep breath and drop my forehead into my hand, the motion making the room shift around me.
"I think I'm gonna need a guitarist," I sigh.
"What, like for recording? You just released Voices in the Shadows. Did you guys get approved for a deluxe already?"
"No," I trail off. "Well, maybe. I don't know. Shows, though."
"What happened? Is everyone okay?" He asks.
"Define okay," I answer, my words stringing together even though I try to fight it.
"Just tell me what's going on. You're worrying me."
I work up the courage and take another breath. Then, I manage to choke it out.
"Luke quit."
JD hesitates, then says, "That's not funny."
A tear slips down my cheek and I bite down on my lip to try and contain myself. It all keeps going through my head, straining in my skull so hard I feel like it's about to explode.
"Stella, that's insane. Are you serious right now?"
"He told us this morning,” I say, the words getting less defined as the lump in my throat grows, my voice getting quiet. “I think he really means it.”
He pauses again and then asks, "Are you drinking?"
"What’s it matter? My life is a mess. I’m wallowing.”
This time, I hear what he hears. I can barely understand myself.
JD curses under his breath and I immediately regret calling him. I know that tone. I had called to try and get a head start on the chaos of finding someone to fill in, not realizing how fucked up I must be.
“Whatever, I'm on my way,” he declares. “Just be decent when I get there please."
The heavy knock on the door makes the pounding in my head worse, but I try not to be too angry about it. The last thing I need is another messed up relationship in my life.
My hoodie sleeve slides up my forearm as I reach out and grab the door handle, then pull it open.
I freeze and so do my lungs, not because of the autumn chill outside, but because there are two people outside my door instead of one.
"I knew you wouldn't open it if I told you he was with me," JD says, gesturing behind him like he sees the existential dread written all over my face.
Chris looks just as fucking beautiful as ever and it breaks my heart. His eyes are worried and his smile is nowhere to be found, but it doesn't make him any less attractive. It doesn’t make me want to hold him any less even though I know I’ve destroyed that opportunity.
I don’t even know why he’s here. Maybe this is an embarrassment tactic by my friend in front of him to make me get my shit together.
"You still should've told me," I answer, turning back to JD.
"Too late," he tells me and frowns. "You look like shit."
"Fuck you."
He smiles a little at the response, probably because he knows it could be worse. It would be more concerning if I wasn’t a bitch about it.
I step aside and let them both in, making a careful effort to avoid eye contact with either of them. There is no sense trying to escape this now despite the fact I want to. Even without looking, Chris walking in sends an electric charge through the air and I shift on my feet with the change.
Do I feel for JD being in the middle of the awkwardness? Yes, but he did it to himself.
His hand clasps my shoulder after I shut the door and I don't have the energy to fight back as he pulls me into a hug. I breathe in the fresh scent of his clothes, a flowery detergent aroma invading my nose when I take a deep inhale to try and keep my composure. I let him squeeze me tightly against his chest and I give a weak wrap of my arms in return.
"I know you don't wanna hear it, but you smell like liquor," he mutters.
"Not surprising," I say against his shoulder. “I don’t have steady hands right now.”
The embarrassment floods in as I have to face the reality of this. It's easy to make excuses for my behavior when no one is around to stop me or when I hide it, but now there are two people I genuinely care about here to see the evidence. I stopped for the last couple days of tour when they finally called me out, but I started again once I got home.
I thought I was easing myself off of it. Today just made it worse.
JD releases me and I hear the water from my kitchen sink start running. When I look around the corner, Chris is filling a pot with steaming water and then shuts off the faucet before turning to put it on my stove.
I watch him, moving about my kitchen like he never left. He pours salt into the water and my heart skips a beat as he tosses a little over his shoulder, the superstition I have that he jokingly agreed to conform to. It twists my insides into knots.
"I'm gonna clear out your stock," JD says and points behind me to the shelf with assorted bottles. "You're gonna go shower and get cleaned up, then we'll go from there, okay?"
"Okay," I sigh, "but can you at least give it to people who will use it?"
He grins. "Oh, it's going home with me."
I roll my eyes and turn to go towards my room.
My shower isn't terribly long, mostly because I feel bad leaving them out there to pick up after me. The water helps sober me up a bit, but doesn't cure the embarrassment. How much grip do I not have on myself to need my producer and my. . . sort of ex boyfriend to come over here and do all of this?
The house smells delicious when I leave my room. There is a hum to it that hasn't been there since before I came home. I breathe the aroma in deep and let the quiet clatter wrap around me. It reminds me how little I've slept, how little I've eaten and drank water, how little I've paid attention to anything but what's going on in my head.
Chris is leaning against the counter in the kitchen and looking down at his phone when I get downstairs. I look around and find that he's the only one here, then over to the now empty shelf. It makes me squirm, but part of me is relieved.
"Here."
I didn't realize how long I was staring until he hands me a glass of water.
The urge to take him in overpowers me and I look up. The judgement I was expecting to find is nonexistent. All I can see is concern and my guilt is back all over again. He should hate me and be off-put to know that he ever see something appealing in me after this, but he’s still being kindhearted.
I look back down at his hand and take the water from him.
"I made some spaghetti with that sauce you keep around," he says and leaves the entryway to grab a bowl from the countertop. "I figured you might want or need to eat. And if you don't, it'll be good to keep in the fridge when you're ready. I would've thrown in some protein but everything was still frozen from tour."
When I don't say anything, he tentatively walks closer until there are just inches between us. I look at the breakfast counter next to me and set the glass of water down after only a sip.
"Do you want anything else? Coffee? Tea? Other food?" He asks.
"No," I mumble and lose my grip on a new set of tears for the thousandth time in the past two months.
"Hey," he starts gently and runs his fingers through my hair. "I can let you rest too if that's what you want. I just want to make sure you're okay."
That is what breaks me.
"I'm sorry."
Chris doesn't ask, he just pulls me in and wraps me in a careful embrace. "Don't do that right now, Stell. We can talk later."
"No, it's been long enough already. I can't let you do this for me without apologizing," I argue, but I keep my arms around his waist because I am selfish enough to cling to him while he still lets me.
"That can wait. I want you fed and hydrated, rested if you need it, and then we can talk."
I shake my head, but I don't win the argument. Before I know it, I’m sunk into the couch with a bowl of pasta in my lap and a glass of water on the coffee table in front of me. Chris insists I eat and drink before he will talk to me. It stings, even though I deserve it, but it is effective.
Fifteen minutes later I am watching the half-eaten food I set down, which was more delicious than anything I’ve had in months, while Chris pads back into the living room. He only left my side to get more water, then again to make me coffee. Otherwise, he sat with me and let Sleepy Hollow play quietly on the TV.
"Justin's long gone, isn't he?" I ask, trying to state the obvious to make conversation.
"Yeah, he wanted to give us space. Said you were my problem now," he says lightheartedly and sets a mug of coffee in front of me on the coffee table.
I frown. "Sounds about right."
The drink is hot and soothing, made just how I like it, and I feel like I'm taking a step back towards normal for a second.
"I'm sorry I interrupted you guys. I know this album means a lot to you," I explain. "I didn't know he was even in the studio with you today."
"It's okay. We weren't supposed to be, things just came up. I'm glad it worked out that way though," he answers.
Chris sits down next to me and I do my best to face him, but it's not easy when I know how bad I've handled all of this.
"Pretty fucking mortifying for me," I say.
"It could've been worse," he breathes.
"Maybe I should take a page out of your book, give up on drinking and that shit all together."
"That's your call. It wouldn't be easy since you're so used to it, but it has some major perks. I do wonder if I'm missing out sometimes even just if I had a little bit of it. I don't feel like I need it, though," Chris tells me.
"Needing it is my problem.” I sigh. "Now I messed up and let it get to me when I was vulnerable again."
He shakes his head. "Don't beat yourself up. I've seen it a hundred times and I’ll see it a hundred more. You get into this industry and everyone wants to do it for fun, then it becomes a need because it's everywhere you look. Parties, shows, backstage, in the studio. Eventually it's a habit more than anything else and it becomes something you try to use for escape or to make yourself feel free. What matters is whether you let it keep controlling you."
I look at him, really look at him. His hair has grown out a lot and almost reaches his shoulders. The perpetual exhaustion that we all wear in this lifestyle is a little more prominent than usual. His eyes are somewhat dull, but it could be anything. Maybe it is my fault, maybe it's not.
All I know is he seemed more alive a few months ago than he does now, and I think I seemed that way too.
Finally, it seems like there is room to talk. My head feels a little more clear and I have spent enough time mulling over what to say.
"I never understood romantic relationships. I had a hard enough time with my family by the time I hit adulthood that the only thing I knew was people turning their backs on me. My only real relationships were my band and Sam, and that still fell apart. I've always tried to protect myself by not letting people in or letting them care about me because I worry about doing the same thing, then losing them.”
My heart still beats fast in my chest as he watches me, listening intently as I add, “I've never wanted somebody like I want you. I got close, but it wasn't the same. I've never craved someone's company like that. No one has made me feel that safe or excited. I feel like you understood me or could see who I was even if I tried to hide it, so I never really managed to put up a front. We just clicked and I felt like I had someone I truly wanted around all the time."
I shift and turn to face him more, pulling a blanket around my legs for some kind of comfort. It doesn't make up for Chris' warmth and energy, sadly. Even if it did, I would still want his hand on my knee or thigh or shoulder or in my hair if I had the choice.
"And I was always scared of losing that. I didn't want the one good thing I knew I had to be taken away without my control, so I thought I could protect it by keeping it just between us."
"And your mom," he adds, smirking. "And Morrow."
The light joke gives me a glimmer of hope that I am hesitant to accept.
"Whatever," I say through a short laugh. "My point is I wanted to guard it because for the first time, I felt like I had something I could rely on. I never meant to hurt you or make you feel like some kind of secret. I mean, I would shout from the rooftops every day that I was lucky enough to have you, but I was terrified that something might get between us."
Chris hums and picks at a thread on my blanket, then lifts his gaze to me again. "Stell, your fear got in between us. I had to bite my tongue all the time so I wouldn't call you my girlfriend or go on a rant about how amazing you are, or say something about how your place is decorated. It killed me. I didn't want to put you out of your comfort zone after everything you've been through, but we live lives that are too insane and public to try and be that private."
"I know and I realized that out on the road. Even when I told the band —."
"You told them?" He cuts me off.
I nod awkwardly and rest my forearms on my knees. "Yeah. It wasn't pretty, but no one was as upset as I expected."
"Well, since we haven't talked since Europe.” He sighs, making me wince a little. "Tell me about it?"
After working up the courage, I explain everything in detail. I cover the tension between Lukas and I, the drinking, the fight, the next day. It makes me nauseous to recall everything, but I manage. There is a bit of relief that comes with telling Chris about all things I have been holding onto.
Chris is leaning forward now, elbows on his knees similar to mine and head in his hands as he rubs his eyes while taking it all in.
"Okay, let me make sure I have this straight," he says, moving his hands but not turning to look at me. "You and Luke went the whole tour not talking about it, Lizzy's bass tech made a joke about it, you were drinking gin which makes you more carefree —."
"I don't know if I'd be that nice about it, but sure."
He snorts. "Okay, so it makes you impulsive. You and Luke call each other childish, he announces to the whole bus that we're 'hooking up,'" he says with air quotes, giving me a quick glance.
"Mhm," I hum in agreement.
"You tell everyone it's in the past or it's more than that. Then he makes a comment and you punch him, which I honestly support and wish I could've seen for myself," he says, tone shifting with the little smile that tries to break through. "Then Kami shuts it all down before you kill each other, you realize he confessed to having feelings for you, everyone sits down the next day to talk it out, and he's still upset with you?"
I huff out a breath when Chris finally sits up and faces me, his expression so mixed that I can't even start to decipher the emotions.
"I don't think he's really upset with me, I think he's upset that I never realized how he felt," I say with a shrug.
"Exactly. He's upset with you, and has a problem with me because he feels like I got in his way," Chris continues.
The comparison has me confused again, but I realize that it will never make sense. It will never be easy to accept.
Chris adds, kinder, "Now he's leaving the band because he knows he'll have to face that everyday."
"Yeah, I think so," is all I can think to say now as the dejection fills me again.
For the first time since he hugged me, Chris gives me the gift of comfort. He rests his hand on my thigh just above my knee. When he does, I lift my eyes that I didn't realize had drifted down and see him smiling sadly.
"I'm sorry, I know he means a lot to you. I don't mean to talk shit, but he's handled this just as badly as we did," he says.
I don't respond and try to swallow that truth instead.
I know Chris is right. He has an unbiased, outside perspective and even if he doesn't know what it was like between Lukas and I growing up, he shouldn't have to. I know deep down that Luke has no reason to hold him and I's relationship or lack of one against me, but I also know that I betrayed his trust just like I did everyone else.
"It gave me perspective," I admit in the charged quiet, "seeing Luke process that he truly wasn't ever going to have me the way he wanted. I think he loves me in a way that is hard to explain and I realized that I know what that feels like, and it would devastate me just as much if I knew that you loved someone else instead."
Chris lets out a shaky breath and almost laughs, the sound airy and a little disbelieving.
"That's quite the comparison."
I smile, genuinely, even though it's slight.
"It’s the truth."
He smiles back, a little extra color filling his cheeks. It gives me a small rush of butterflies and I nearly breathe a sigh of relief. There is still something there between us, something tangible. It might all still be there, actually.
"Good to know," Chris says and squeezes my thigh, "because this has been the longest seven weeks of my life and I really thought I lost you there."
I let out that sigh now, shaken and disbelieving. I don’t know how he can still find it in himself to not cut me off, but I am grateful for the thousandth chance after so many that I already didn’t deserve.
So if he is still in, I am too. For real this time.
"Unfortunately for you, I won’t be easy to get rid of now," I respond, grinning now.
"Oh, what ever will I do?" He answers sarcastically.
"Well, since I've ruined your work time in the studio," I start, "we could start by making the most of it."
The suggestion has him leaning in closer with that gorgeous smile on his face.
"You think so?"
He slips his fingers behind my ear and into my hair, and it feels like the first time all over again.
"Yeah."
"Be careful what you wish for," Chris mutters, then kisses me in that way only he can, and the dread finally shrinks away.
tysm 🥺 it means so much to see so many wonderful writers and be included 💕
i wanna mention a few others who inspire me and i love to see <3 @madamaaubergine @floodflameschosen @fadingangelwisp @dollieomens @jestersnotebook @dodgersnotebook @darksigns-exe @mothmanenthusiasts @masked-omen @ladyveronikawrites @boomenz @gh0stlyspecter @dead-astrid @vanishxcanvas @ripleyism @fuck1ng-queen @lostinthemelody @m0thmansdad @buttercupbabyyy @lilgarbitch
I just KNOW he would give reader a huge discount or for free even (free as in, pay with sex 🙂↕️)
And maybe- just maybe folio would watch them having sex AND possibly join 👀.
(Noah would definitely smoke while reader rides him)
now this is !!! dealer!noah oh, how i think of you often, and to make it even messier, finding yourself in a situationship type arrangement fueled by sex, drugs, and a former hatred for one another (possibly more one sided).
“What happened to not sampling your own product?” you muse down at Noah, your brow raised.
All he does is laugh, smoke filtering out from between his lips with the sound before he brings the joint back to them, the same joint that prompted your question. Closing his lips around the nub, he takes another drag. He holds it for longer this time, smoke exhaling through his nose after a beat before he finally answers your question. “Because… it’s not technically mine.”
Your eyes follow the joint between his slender, tattooed fingers as he offers it back to Folio, sitting beside him, his own mouth curved into a smirk, clearly amused by Noah’s loophole.
“Now, baby, who said you could stop, hmm?” Noah asks, his large palm landing on your ass, squeezing and groping as he gently goads you back into rhythm, but you refuse, remaining sat upon his lap, squeezing purposefully around his cock buried inside you.
“Not until you let me have a hit,” you protest, as though you have any room to negotiate, when Noah already has his way with you.
“Baby, come on, we’ve gone over this…” Beneath you, he bucks his hips, another gesture to encourage you to continue, and a sign that his patience is wearing thin.
You have gone back and forth over this argument a multitude of times. Noah always put his foot down when it came to the idea of you dabbling with drugs, even before now, until the rules changed—rules that had been made by him to begin with. Now, if there was anything you wanted, you came to him. Never anything hard, just a little something to take the edge off, his own product that he knew was safer than acquiring it from some stranger in a club bathroom.
Standing your ground, you roll your eyes, hips firmly planted in place, only giving another squeeze of your walls that makes him groan, sounding almost uncomfortable, or frustrated, as he pulses inside you. Either is fun for you in this moment.
Before it can escalate into an argument, Folio interjects, proud as anything and happy to assist as he offers an alternative. “Here, let me…” Already, Folio is reaching a hand toward you before Noah can refuse, gripping your jaw as he shuffles closer. “Come here, you pretty thing.” Taking a long inhale, he leans forward, bringing his mouth close to yours, and instinctively you part your lips as his own open with an exhale.
While you inhale, Noah sweeps his hand up along your back until it settles at the nape of your neck, keeping you in place as Folio finishes off the act with a kiss.
Instantly, it feels as though you’ve been revitalised, getting your way and resulting in you finally giving Noah what he’d been wanting. Slowly, you begin to roll your hips once more, dragging yourself along his cock and moaning against Folio’s lips before it bleeds into a whine as he pulls back.
“Now, give us a show.” Winking at you, he settles back in the couch, this time with a hand behind his head, his nails lazily dragging against his scalp as he takes one final drag from the joint and watches.
Noah’s hands settle back on your hips, guiding you into your previous steady rhythm. “That’s it… just like that. Nice and slow,” he instructs, and while you reward the feeling of his thick shaft rubbing against all the right spots with soft moans and mewls, the real reward is in how he sounds, grunts and groans paired with the buck of his hips pressing himself closer, or the tremble of his thighs as you drag him nearer and nearer to his peak.
From the corner of your eye, you catch movement and look over to find Folio shimmying down his unzipped jeans until he’s able to comfortably pull his hard cock free. It’s not unlike him to start stroking himself while watching, usually with lazy drags, drawing it out for as long as you and Noah do until he can’t take it any longer, but this time he reaches for your hand, guiding it to his cock and stroking it along the shaft. “You gonna get us both off?” he teases, mouth curved into a boyish grin, the kind that makes your insides melt, and you squeeze purposefully around Noah’s shaft, mimicking the same motion you give him between your thighs, causing them both to moan in sync. What a beautiful sound.
How you got here is a story in itself, but in this specific moment, it’s not even about the actual sex or the euphoric high that comes with an orgasm, but Noah having his hold over you, riding him until you’re cock drunk—though he’s the one who seems pussy drunk, if anything. You hate him, or so you claim, but what better way to get back at your douchebag of a cheating ex than to fuck his friend turned competition and former employee, all while jerking off Noah’s own friend as he watches.
a/n: Be advised this part and 24 are pretty heavy. Reminder, these are fictional scenarios and everyone’s experience with these things is different. Please let me know if I need to add anything else to the cw list and take care of yourselves <3
six weeks later
I'm drinking again.
And like the good borderline addict I am, because I'm not really an addict, I can acknowledge that I'm drinking too much. I'm not mindless in my substance abuse, I am fully aware of it.
I could stop any time if I wanted to, but I'm on tour. The point is to have fun, and I have always drank for fun. I drink when I'm having fun, I drink when everyone else is having fun, or I drink when I'm feeling down to help myself have fun. We all drink a lot on tour, so it's not really a problem.
I drink with Liz, I drink with Manny, I drink with Lukas sometimes too. I don't drink with Ash, but I do take hits off his joint. And if they're not doing it, Kam and the rest of the crew, or the support bands probably are.
That is another thing about it that I can say proves that I don't have a problem. It's not like I'm drinking alone!
Tonight is no exception. We played our third to last show of the tour tonight and it was a rager. The energy was high and I had the most fun I've had all tour. The crowd danced with me and screamed and head banged and laughed and moshed (also with me, because they were too fun for me to stay on stage). And on top of that, I sweat out the toxins of the vodka, so I knew I wouldn't feel guilty about drinking after.
But then after happened.
I walked off stage, still high on life, and managed to stay afloat until we got loaded back out. Everyone hung out and chatted, and with how the parking for the bus was situated, some fans happened to see us.
The two girls were total sweethearts. The only problem was that after we took a selfie and I signed their merch, I saw the "Cyberhex" tattoo on one of their wrists.
I don't know why I thought drinking gin and tonic with Liz would be a good idea after that. Gin has always made me moody.
My baggy hoodie and sweatpants do nothing to hide me from the world. I wish they would swallow me more, but I feel like I'm bloating out of my skin from all of the empty calories and horrible shit I've done to my body this past month. The clothes feel less protective than I want them to and somehow, I still think that more of this fucking alcohol will solve everything.
The bus lights are low and I'm trying to focus on what Liz and her bass tech, Ollie, are saying, but I can't. My mind is too distant and as much as I want it to leave my skull, it keeps floating towards my phone with several unanswered texts and calls and voicemails and the east coast that we aren't far enough from anymore.
Lukas is who manages go bring me back to the world.
"Of course I'm still up," he says with a chuckle.
"I just thought you'd be passed out already," Ollie says.
"Since when have I not been a late night guy?" He answers.
"Since you and Stella started avoiding each other," Liz snorts.
I can practically hear him whip his head in her direction.
I hardly have the energy to do much other than turn my head that is leaned back against the window. Liz is lounged beside me on the couch while Ollie opposes her at one of the table seats. Lukas is in my left-side peripheral vision now since I've turned away from the bunks, but he is very much still there.
"That's funny," he answers nonchalantly, or at least tries.
"She's got a point," Ollie comments. "I was just starting to wonder if mom and dad are fighting."
Something about the "mom and dad" thing makes a short, dry laugh come out of me. It is such a ridiculous concept that I can't help myself.
Me and Lukas? The only dad of this group would be Asher, weirdly enough, and he tends to like men more than women.
I can feel them all glance at me now that I've made my first sound in several minutes, so I sit up and open my mouth, pointing my finger in with a fake gag.
"Wow, thanks," Lukas huffs.
"You're so welcome," I respond, my words stringing together a bit.
"What? You guys really haven't ever thought about it?" Ollie asks. "Aren't you, like, childhood best friends?"
"Friends are better as friends," I groan.
Lukas shakes his head while Ollie laughs.
"Aww, he's turned you down?"
"Fuck no," I scoff and cross my arms over my chest, leaning back again. "But he's definitely made it clear how he feels about me recently."
"Oh, real mature," Lukas pipes in.
"What? He asked!"
"Yeah, and now you're making it a big deal again after I told you that I didn't mean it how you think I did," he bites back.
I am sitting up again without thinking about it, my blood heating.
He is sitting across from Ollie now, one elbow on the table, but he stares me down. I can see in his eyes that he doesn't want to do this, but why should I care? He was an asshole to me and I can't even trust that he has been honest with me all this time.
"You could have at least apologized!"
"Apologize? Why do I need to apologize for calling you out on your bullshit, Stella?”
"Guys," Liz says from my right like she is trying to warn us to keep it down.
It falls silent on my ears.
"Because you were an asshole," I say, the alcohol making me not care about the audience. "You tell your best friend she isn't lovable and don't think you should apologize?"
That gets Liz and Ollie going.
"What?" Liz barks.
"You told her that?" Ollie gasps.
"No, I didn't! I said you don't just let people know who you are in a few months! You've always been closed off and if I had to wait years to really know you, then it's unfair someone else gets that sooner," he adds, trying to defend himself.
"And I told you that it was none of your fucking business who I open up to!"
"It's my business when I can't trust that he'll actually accept you for who you are!"
Liz stands up as I trudge through the muddy waters of my head to try and reach his words and decipher them, but it's almost impossible. There is something else there, I know it, but I can't process it.
"Okay, what the fuck is going on?" She cuts us off and looks at me, then Lukas.
I see him suck in a breath, but my brain is working too slow to try and stop him. I know he is angry again, and I know the pin is out of the grenade.
"She's fucking Chris Motionless.”
In all our years of touring together, I have never heard any bus or van be so silent.
No one breathes, and that's how I know every single person here was definitely listening.
Just hearing his name makes my chest ache. It feels like watching a car accident from an outside perspective, processing the shock that ripples through everyone and the dread of knowing what I've done and how badly this will go.
Liz is the first to speak, voice almost a whisper.
"What?"
"They've been sneaking around and hiding it for months," Lukas says in a more restrained tone.
My lungs are empty, but I manage to rasp, "You asshole."
Movement to my left makes me turn and I see Asher and Manny standing at the curtain that leads back to the bunks.
"Is he serious?" Manny asks.
I bite down on my lip as my eyes suddenly burn and begin welling up. The loud crash of my heart in my chest over and over makes me feel even worse.
Chris.
God, what I would give to curl up in his arms and hide right now. He would hold me and tell me it's okay, handle the situation with way more confidence than I think I could ever muster. He would brush his fingers over my arms or squeeze my hand so I knew I wasn't alone.
But I am alone, and all of his attempts to reach out and talk since that day with him and Ryan have gone unacknowledged.
I drink to stop thinking about him, but the warmth from the alcohol will never quite replace how it feels to be settled against him. The lightheaded haze will never compare to how I feel when he would kiss me. The deep thought it brings me will never be as enlightening as the conversations we had. Drinking with everyone here will never be as relaxing as coffee with him in the morning.
The burn when I vomit my entire stomach up doesn't hurt as bad as not talking to him. The headache never tortures me like the memory of what I said to him and how I walked away when I knew I shouldn't.
"It was more than that, but yeah," I mutter. "Not that it matters anymore since I fucked it up."
A tear slips over the edge of my lower lid and I reach up to swipe it away. Another follows.
"Shit," Asher breathes.
"It was probably for the best," Lukas says softly.
I know I said gin makes me moody, but I lied. Gin doesn't make me moody. It makes me impulsive.
I'm on top of the blonde and his face is flying to the side before anyone probably blinked, my knuckles throbbing at the impact.
The cab breaks out in chaos, the figurative car accident from earlier making full impact, the grenade finally going off. It all moves slower to me than it does for everyone else, but I feel a little more sober now than I did before I swung. It doesn't stop the rage in my veins, though.
Someone's arm is around my waist and I'm trying to break free, but it's no use.
"Fuck you!" I shout at Lukas, my view of him cupping his cheek obscured by a wide-eyed Lizzy.
"Stella, what the hell?" Someone says.
My eyes are locked on Lukas, though, vision blurry from the tears I wasn't able to stop. And in my newfound clarity, his words finally sink in.
"You're such a prick! You can't fucking stand that I wanted him and not you! Is that what this is?!"
"Can you blame me?" Lukas yells back, standing up and being held back by Asher's hand. "I've been there for you through everything, never said a goddamn bad thing about you, and you still go after the guy who hated you!"
I get set down, but still held at a wide berth. "It wasn't his fault!"
"You don't get it, Estella! The point is I have never not loved you!"
"And that means I have to read your mind and save myself?" I answer, throwing my arms out in exasperation.
"It means that for once in your life, you should have opened your eyes and realized that there is actually a man in your life that you can love who hasn't turned his back on you!"
The words hit harder than I hit him, I think.
"Woah," Asher says, baffled, and backs away from him. "That was shitty, man."
"I should let her hit you again," Manny grumbles.
"No one is hitting anyone again."
Kami's voice shuts us all up if Lukas' fucked up comment didn't.
We all turn to her and she crosses her arms.
"Lights out immediately. I don't want to hear a fucking word about this until tomorrow morning when we get to the venue where we can sort this out, level-headed," she says, glaring at Lukas, then turns it on me, "and sober."
No one dares to say a word.
"Am I clear?" She asks.
A chorus of agreement meets my ears and I join in. With that, Kami barks at us all to go to bed, and we move.
Lizzy grabs my phone from the couch and hands it to me, and I go straight to the bathroom.
The whole bus can probably hear me throwing up all of the liquid and minimal food in my stomach, but I don't care. I can't find it in myself to care as the tears pour down my face and I choke on the sobs. My throat and stomach and head hurt so bad, but I feel it all in my chest even worse.
How did I end up here?
My childhood best friend admitted to having long standing feelings for me that I never knew about, I punched him for saying that it's a good thing I messed up things with Chris, everyone knows that I was seeing someone I used to consider an enemy and that I kept it from them, and we made total fools of ourselves in front of every single person on this bus. And on top of that, I'm searching for comfort in substances instead of letting myself have something good.
I don't look like myself when I glimpse my reflection after brushing my teeth, so I avoid the mirror and leave for my bunk.
The bus is fairly quiet, but it's awkward as hell. No one is up and moving around except for me at the moment. It is somewhat comforting that I can get into bed without facing the reality of what happened, but it doesn't help the thoughts in my head.
Once I get in bed, I click on my phone and lower the volume. I find the Phone app and select it, go to Voicemail, and click on the one I know a little too well by now.
"Hey," Chris' recorded voice says. "I don't know why I keep leaving you these because you're so determined to avoid me, but I guess there's no harm in it until you tell me to fuck off or block me. At this point, I'm surprised you haven't, but you're so convinced that you deserve to suffer that I don't think you ever will."
I blink back a new wave of tears. This might be the first time I've listened to this without being intoxicated.
"I've never been one to put much weight on birthdays, but I really thought you might say something yesterday. I should be pissed that you didn't answer my call and that you didn't leave me some sappy voicemail or text. I was, honestly. But then I remember that you've lost enough people who care about you that you're trying to stop it from happening again, and I can't help but wish you were here so I could run my fingers through your hair and tell you that it's not your fault.”
I clamp my hand over my mouth and try to swallow back a sob, but it doesn't silence it completely. Another one tries to build behind it and I squeeze my eyes shut while tears stream over the bridge of my nose and my temple.
"I don't know if you're listening, but please call me, Stell. I miss you and I feel like I've lost a part of myself. Be safe, okay?"
Like the fucking masochist I am, I play another.
"Stella, I'm worried about you. I know you're alive because I keep watching videos of the shows, but I can tell you're not okay. Please don't shut me out because you think you're not good enough. You are more than good enough, but I can't stand watching you be someone other than yourself," he says sadly. "Just talk to me."
Before I know it, I'm listening to all of them. I don't know what hurts worse: Chris being worried about me and trying to reassure me, or the ones where he lets his frustration slip and tells me how he's angry at the situation or all the people who have hurt me, or at himself for not making me feel safer and at me for refusing to let myself be happy.
All he wants is for me to realize that I don’t have to deny myself happiness in favor of safety. I know he would never try to hurt me, and I know I am only hurting myself anymore. I know he is right when he says I will never truly let him go because the years of heartbreak has made me look to pain for comfort.
But the texts and calls have slowed to a near stop, the voicemail from his birthday being the first contact again in over a week, and I don't expect any more. He won’t keep contributing to me hurting myself.
Kami's formal meeting is over and now I'm sitting at the table of the bus's main room, waiting. She had instructed me to wait here for her and for everyone else to stay outside. I don't know what to expect, but I'm sure it will be much more serious than her telling us all to move on outside and get it together for the last two days of this tour.
The door to the bus opens and Lizzy comes in first. Asher is behind her, then Kami, Lukas and Manny.
My tour manager sees my antsy response immediately, a mix of discomfort with the unknown of what is about to happen and the fact I'm the most sober I've been all tour.
"No one freak out. This isn't a trial by combat," she says and gestures for us all to sit. "But clearly we need to have a discussion about what the actual fuck has caused all of this.”
I cringe and pull my knees up to my chest.
Asher sits across from me while the other three take the couch, and Kami stands. She is probably staying there in case one of us decides to start swinging again.
"Stella, I hate to put you on the spot," Manny says, "but I think you kind of have to start this one."
I take a deep breath and look around. Everyone watches me intently, but I can see empathy on their faces. There is even some on Luke's, along with a dark shadow around his left eye and temple.
So, I tell them everything. I leave out the sex, but I tell them about Shiprocked and Apocalypse Fest and the night we first kissed and him staying with me. I tell them about the months of off and on texting and calling and how hard it was for us to just accept that we really liked each other.
Then, I explain Luke finding out so they all understand why I reacted like I did. I tell them about the argument before we left Europe, and I admit that I've been trying to drown it out.
By the time I'm done, I'm crying again and Asher is holding my hand as I tell them all how sorry I am. Everyone tells me it's okay and that they forgive me, that they understand why I was so determined to keep it quiet (both the real attachment-issue reasons and the easier logical reasons), but I still feel like shit. I know I lied to them and I shouldn't have.
"I need to sit down with you two," Kami says, looking between Lukas and I. "This is all fine and dandy, but it doesn't change the fact that you clearly have more issues to discuss."
Everyone takes their cue to leave except for Lizzy, who insists on staying to help if we "try to kill each other again."
Like a disgruntled teacher, Kami makes Lukas sit across from me. He hesitates, but gives in while her and Liz sit on the couch.
We stare at each other for a minute. I try to find my best friend, but something has changed now. Lines have been crossed between us and we both know it. The problem is I don't know how we come back from it, not in our careers.
"I'm sorry," Lukas finally says.
When I stay quiet, he elaborates.
"I can't be upset with you for not knowing how I feel. I should have told you years ago," he adds and glances at our audience before shifting in his seat at the awkwardness. "I was just worried it would ruin our friendship if you knew I wanted more than that."
"You should have told me, Luke. I don't think it would have made a difference in terms of your chances, but all the cards would've been on the table. I've never seen you as more than my friend, but at least then you might have been able to move on," I answer him.
"I know, and I said some horrible shit to you. I've just been so irritated that it seemed like he came out of nowhere after contributing to our lives being made hell all that time and you let him into a spot I wanted."
I drop my head into my hands and rub at my skin as if it will make me feel any better, then slip them further back and dig my fingers into my hair. I don't know how to feel anymore.
I am angry that he never told me, but that makes me a hypocrite because I kept my romantic life away from all of them. I'm angry that he still has a grudge. I'm sad that this is all it took to break us down and tear us apart.
"I don't want you to get hurt," Lukas speaks up again.
My hands drop and I look at him, brows pulled together.
"You already did that, Luke."
"I realize that, but I have to live with it," he huffs. "But at least I have control over what happens between us. I have no control over how anyone else treats you. Can't you see why I'm worried?"
"You think I don't trust him, that he doesn't care, that he doesn't know anything about me?" I respond, more a statement than a question, sitting back hard against the back of the seat as my frustration bubbles up again.
"Why shouldn't I think all of that? The track record here is fucked."
My head thumps against the back of the bench as I slump into it and I sigh.
"I don't know what to tell you, Lukas. I already explained myself. Is it not enough that you know I messed up the good thing we had?"
He shakes his head when I look at him again. "It's hard, okay? Just because I don't like you being with him doesn't mean I don't want you happy.”
"Maybe you should've opened your eyes and seen that I was happy with him then."
Luke glances around the bus, biting down on his bottom lip. I follow his gaze loosely from the furniture to our two spectators. They both listen to us quietly and respect how delicate this is. They don't seem to know what to do, just like we don't.
"I need to take a walk," Lukas finally says and looks over at Kami for permission.
She nods and gestures to the door.
My childhood best friend stands up and for the first time in years, I feel like I don't know him. I watch a stranger open the bus door and walk out, and then the deafening silence sets back in as soon as he's gone.
What do you mean “chat” is now referring to ChatGPT and not twitch chat? What? What? What the fuck? No?
When I address chat I am speaking to a presumed Greek chorus of real human people shitposting on their lunch break, not a machine that devours lakes to covert electricity into slop.
