Sammy Fender

[reinmeinfender]

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Hello my loves🩶

This is your space for all things Fender fics. Feel free to send me anything, from fic suggestions to general questions about Mr Fender himself or anything x

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[reinmeinfender]

Love your fics so much🥰

Awe thank you so much, I really appreciate it❤️ x

[reinmeinfender]

Coachella Loving

As the plane touches down on California soil, my heart races with anticipation. I’ve been counting the seconds until I’d see Sam again, and now, finally, I’m here. The airport buzzes with activity, but all I can think about is him. Two weeks apart feels like an eternity, especially when he’s been touring the US, pouring his heart into his music, and I’ve been stuck at home, missing him like crazy. I grab my bag and hurry through the terminal, my eyes scanning the crowd for his familiar face. And there he is, leaning against a pillar, his blue eyes sparkling with that cheeky grin I adore.

“Sam!” I call out, my voice trembling with excitement. He straightens up, his gaze locking onto mine, and in that moment, the world around us fades away. He’s wearing his usual laid-back outfit, a worn band tee and jeans, but he looks more handsome than ever. His muscular frame fills out his clothes perfectly, and his dirty blonde hair is tousled just the way I like it. As I rush toward him, his arms open wide, and I’m enveloped in his embrace.

“Hey, you,” he murmurs, his voice deep and warm, like a melody I’ve been longing to hear. His hands slide down to my waist, pulling me closer, and I breathe in the scent of him, a mix of his cologne and the faint hint of sweat from the LA heat. It’s comforting, familiar, and I feel like I’ve come home. Our lips meet in a soft, tender kiss, filled with all the love and longing we’ve been holding onto. “I missed you so much,” he whispers against my lips, his breath tickling my skin.

“I missed you too,” I reply, my voice cracking with emotion. Tears prick at the corners of my eyes, but they’re happy tears, the kind that come from being reunited with someone who means everything to you. Sam cups my face in his hands, his thumbs brushing away the moisture. “You’re here now,” he says, his voice gentle. “And I’m not letting you go anytime soon.”

We walk hand in hand through the airport, his fingers intertwined with mine, and I feel a surge of pride. This man, this incredibly talented, cheeky, and shy guy from North Shields, is about to perform at Coachella. It’s a dream come true for him, and I’m so damn proud to be his girlfriend, his biggest supporter. “I can’t wait to see you on that stage,” I tell him, squeezing his hand. “You’re going to blow everyone away.”

He laughs, that playful, nervous laugh that makes my heart flutter. “You’re biased,” he teases, but I can see the doubt in his eyes. Sam’s always been his own worst critic, and I know the nerves are setting in. “No, I’m serious,” I insist. “You’ve got this. You’ve been working so hard, and everyone’s going to see that.”

The house we’re staying in is bustling with energy. The band are all here, along with their girlfriends. It’s a chaotic mix of laughter, music, and excitement, but Sam and I find our own little bubble. We collapse onto the couch, his arm draped around my shoulders, and I lean into him, soaking up his warmth.

“It’s good to have you here,” he says, his voice soft. “I’ve been so lonely without you.”

“Me too,” I admit, snuggling closer. “But I’ve been listening to your songs on repeat. It’s like you’re here with me, even when you’re not.”

He smiles, that shy, cute smile that makes my heart melt. “You’re the best, you know that?”

The night before the festival begins I make sure to be by his side every step of the way. We sit on the floor of the bedroom, surrounded by lyrics sheets and setlists, and I help him run through his songs. His voice fills the room, raw and powerful, and I can’t help but feel a swell of pride. “You’re going to kill it tomorrow,” I tell him, my voice filled with conviction. “I believe in you, Sam. You’re going to be amazing.”

He looks at me, his blue eyes searching, and for a moment, I see the nervousness lurking beneath the surface. “Thanks,” he says, his voice husky. “Having you here makes all the difference.”

Friday night, we head to the festival grounds to watch Lady Gaga’s performance. The energy is electric, the air thick with anticipation. Sam’s arm wraps protectively around my waist, his hand resting on my hip, and I lean into him, feeling safe and loved. The crowd is massive, but all I can focus on is him. His presence grounds me, and I soak up his warmth as we sway to the music.

“You’re really something, you know that?” he says, his lips brushing against my ear. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“You’d be fine,” I tease, though my heart swells at his words. “But I’m glad I’m here to cheer you on.”

Saturday morning arrives, and with it, a mix of excitement and nerves. Sam’s performance is later in the day, but I’m already buzzing with anticipation. I’ve picked out a cute outfit, a cropped tank top that shows off my midriff and high-waisted shorts that hug my curves. It’s hot out here in the desert, and I want to feel confident, sexy, and most importantly, like myself.

When Sam sees me, his eyes widen, and a slow smile spreads across his face. “Wow,” he breathes, his gaze lingering on my outfit. “You look… incredible.”

I smile, twirling for him. “Do you think it’s too much? It’s just so hot out here.”

He steps closer, his hands resting on my hips. “It’s perfect,” he murmurs, his voice low and husky. “But… are you sure you want to wear that? It’s pretty revealing.”

I laugh, running a hand through his hair. “It’s Coachella, babe. Everyone’s dressed like this. And besides, I want to look good for you.”

He leans in, his lips brushing against mine. “You always look good to me,” he whispers, his breath warm against my skin. “But I don’t want other guys staring at you.”

I roll my eyes playfully, but I love his protectiveness. “Jealous, huh?”

“Maybe a little,” he admits, pulling me closer. “You’re mine, and I want everyone to know it.”

As the day progresses, I throw myself into being the most supportive girlfriend ever. When it’s finally time for his performance, my heart is pounding with excitement. I push my way to the front of the crowd, screaming his name as he takes the stage.

Sam’s presence is magnetic. His voice fills the air, powerful and raw, and the crowd is mesmerized. I watch him, my eyes glued to his every move, and I feel a surge of pride. This is my boyfriend, my Sam, and he’s absolutely killing it. As he sings, I dance, my body moving to the rhythm of his music. I can feel his eyes on me, and I know he’s turned on by the sight of me.

During one of his slower songs, our eyes meet, and he smiles, that shy, cute smile that makes my heart skip a beat. “This one’s for you,” he says into the mic, his voice soft. And as he sings, I feel like the song is wrapping around me, a love letter set to music.

By the time his set ends, I’m hoarse from cheering and my heart is bursting with pride. Sam steps off the stage, his eyes searching the crowd until they find mine. He makes his way through the throng of fans, his gaze never leaving me, and when he reaches me, he pulls me into a tight hug.

“You were amazing,” I tell him, my voice trembling with emotion. “I’m so proud of you.”

“Thanks to you,” he says, his voice thick with gratitude. “Having you here made all the difference.”

Sunday arrives, and with it, Megan Thee Stallion’s performance. The energy is off the charts, and I let loose, dancing sensually to her songs. My outfit today is even more revealing, leaving little to the imagination. The desert heat is relentless, and I’m sweating, but I feel alive, free, and sexy.

Sam’s eyes never leave me, his gaze protective and hungry. I can see the desire in his eyes, the way he’s struggling to keep his hands off me. But he’s also scanning the crowd, making sure no one gets too close, too interested. His protectiveness turns me on even more, and I dance with an extra sway in my hips, knowing he’s watching.

As Megan’s set ends, the crowd begins to disperse, but Sam pulls me aside, his hand gripping my waist. “You’re killing me,” he growls, his voice low and rough. “I can’t take it anymore.”

I smile, my heart pounding with anticipation. “What are you going to do about it?”

His eyes darken, and he leans in, his lips brushing against my ear. “I’m going to take you back to the house, and I’m going to show you just how much I’ve missed you.”

My breath hitches, and I feel a rush of excitement. “Promise?”

“Promise,” he murmurs, his lips finally meeting mine in a hungry kiss.

As we make our way back to the house, Sam’s hand never leaves my waist, his touch possessive and needy. The festival’s energy still buzzes around us, but all I can think about is him, his lips, his hands, his body. By the time we reach the house, the place is quiet, the band and their girlfriends either still at the festival or already asleep.

Sam pulls me into a dark corner, his lips crashing down on mine with urgency. “I can’t wait anymore,” he growls, his voice hoarse with desire. “I need you, right now.”

I smile, my heart pounding with excitement. “Then take me, Sam. I’m all yours.”

His hands move to my hips, lifting me against him, and I wrap my legs around his waist, pressing myself against his hardness. “God, I’ve missed this,” he murmurs, his lips trailing down my neck. “I’ve missed you.”

“Me too,” I whisper, my hands tangling in his hair. “Show me how much.”

And he does. He carries me to the nearest room, kicking the door shut behind him. The room is dimly lit, the air thick with anticipation. Sam sets me down gently, his eyes devouring me as he pulls my top off, revealing my bare skin. “You’re so fucking beautiful,” he breathes, his lips brushing against my collarbone.

“Take me, Sam,” I urge, my voice trembling with need. “I want you.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice. His hands move to my shorts, sliding them down my legs, and I step out of them, standing before him in nothing but my underwear. His gaze is hungry, possessive, and I feel a rush of power knowing I’m the only one who gets to see this side of him.

“You’re mine,” he growls, his hands gripping my hips. “Only mine.”

“Always,” I whisper, reaching for the hem of his shirt. He helps me pull it off, revealing his muscular chest, and I run my hands over his skin, feeling the warmth of him, the strength. His jeans follow, and soon, we’re both naked, our bodies pressing together, skin on skin.

Sam’s lips find mine again, the kiss deep and desperate, filled with all the longing we’ve been holding onto. His hands move down my back, pulling me closer, and I can feel his hardness against my core, teasing me, promising me everything I’ve been craving.

“I need you inside me,” I murmur, my voice thick with desire. “Now.”

He doesn’t hesitate. He lifts me, cradling me in his arms, and lays me down on the bed, his eyes never leaving mine. “Are you sure?” he asks, his voice gentle, despite the hunger in his gaze.

“I’m sure,” I whisper, reaching for him. “I’ve missed this. I’ve missed you.”

He positions himself at my entrance, his eyes searching mine for permission, and I nod, my breath hitching with anticipation. He thrusts into me slowly, filling me completely, and I gasp, my head falling back as pleasure washes over me.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he groans, his voice rough. “So tight, so wet.”

I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him closer, and he begins to move, his thrusts slow and deliberate at first, but quickly building in intensity. The bed creaks beneath us, the air thick with the sounds of our passion, our moans, our grunts, the slickness of our bodies moving together.

“Sam,” I cry out, my nails digging into his back as he hits a spot deep inside me that makes me see stars. “Harder, please.”

He obliges, his thrusts becoming more urgent, more desperate. His lips find my neck, my shoulders, my breasts, leaving a trail of kisses and bites in their wake. “You’re so fucking perfect,” he growls, his voice hoarse. “So responsive, so wet for me.”

I’m lost in the sensation, in the feel of him moving inside me, filling me up, making me feel whole. My walls clench around him, and I can feel my orgasm building, a coil of pleasure tightening in my core. “Sam, I’m close,” I pant, my voice trembling.

“Me too,” he grunts, his thrusts becoming erratic. “Come for me, baby. Let me feel you fall apart.”

His words push me over the edge, and I cry out, my body shaking as my orgasm washes over me. My walls flutter around him, milking him, and he groans, his own release following close behind. He thrusts into me one last time, his body stiffening as he spills himself deep inside me, his name on my lips.

For a moment, we lie there, our bodies still joined, our hearts pounding in unison. Sam’s forehead rests against mine, his breath hot against my skin. “I love you,” he murmurs, his voice soft and full of wonder.

“I love you too,” I reply, my fingers tracing the contours of his face. “So much.”

[reinmeinfender]

Babe please come back we miss u 💔💔

Hey love🤍 You are so sweet bless you, I miss you all too! I am so so sorry, work has been so busy recently. I am going to try get a fic out to you all soon x

[reinmeinfender]

Girl I need a part two to unspoken tension asap!! Too good

[reinmeinfender]

awe thank you so much! I am so glad some of you loved it x

[reinmeinfender]

Girl I need a part two to unspoken tension asap!! Too good

[reinmeinfender]

Oh we 100% need a pt2 to that latest fic, it was FAB xx

Oh thank you! I shall try write one this evening for you🤍 xx

[reinmeinfender]

Unspoken Tension

The stage lights are still burning in my eyes as I step off, the adrenaline crash hitting me like a brick wall. Opening for Sam was supposed to be my big break, the moment I’ve been hustling for since I first picked up a guitar in my tiny flat in Newcastle. But now, as I stand backstage, the applause fading into a distant hum, I feel more like I’ve just survived a war. The crowd loved it, sure, they cheered, they sang along, they even chanted my name. But something’s off. Something I can’t quite put my finger on.

I’m headed toward the green room when I spot him. Sam. He’s leaning against the wall, one shoulder casually propped, a cigarette dangling from his lips. Even in the dim light, his blue eyes are piercing, like shards of ice in a sea of shadows. He’s not what I expected. Not the rockstar cliché with the flashy grin and the swagger. There’s a hardness to him, a weight in his gaze like he’s carrying ghosts I can’t see. He’s wearing a black leather jacket, loose jeans, and boots that look like they’ve walked through hell and back. His muscular frame fills out the clothes in a way that’s both intimidating and impossibly attractive.

“You were fucking brilliant,” he says, his voice rough, like gravel and silk mixed together. He takes a drag of his cigarette, exhales slowly, and watches me through the smoke. His accent is thick, Geordie, like mine, but there’s an edge to it, a sharpness that cuts through the air.

“Thanks,” I reply, trying to sound casual, but my voice cracks slightly. I clear my throat and force a smile. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

He laughs, a low, cheeky sound that makes my stomach flip. “Not so bad? You’re too kind.” He pushes off the wall and walks toward me, his movements deliberate, like he’s sizing me up. “You’re new to this, aren’t you?”

I shrug, feeling suddenly self-conscious. “First big gig. Nerves got the better of me.”

“Nah, you’re good,” he says, his tone dismissive, but there’s a warmth in his eyes that catches me off guard. “Come on, let’s get a drink. You look like you could use one.”

He leads me to his dressing room, a cluttered space filled with half-empty bottles, crumpled clothes, and the faint scent of sweat and cologne. He grabs a bottle of whiskey from the table and pours two glasses, handing one to me. “To new beginnings,” he says, raising his glass.

“To new beginnings,” I echo, clinking my glass against his. The whiskey burns as it slides down my throat, but it’s exactly what I need.

We sit in silence for a moment, the only sound the hum of the air conditioning and the distant murmur of the crew packing up. Sam’s staring at me again, that same intense gaze that makes me squirm. I shift in my seat, trying to break the tension.

“So,” I start, “how long have you been doing this?”

He smiles, a small, secretive smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Long enough to know better. But not long enough to stop.”

I laugh, but it’s nervous, uncertain. “That’s… profound.”

He rolls his eyes, but there’s a playful glint in them now. “Don’t pretend you’re not impressed.”

I grin back, feeling a little more at ease. “I’m impressed. Just not by your philosophy.”

He leans forward, his elbows on his knees, and offers me a cigarette. Our fingers brush as I take it, and something shifts in the air, electric, unspoken. His touch is warm, calloused, and I feel a jolt of awareness that makes my heart race.

“You’re not what I expected,” I blurt out, before I can stop myself.

He raises an eyebrow, his expression unreadable. “Oh? And what did you expect?”

I hesitate, searching for the right words. “I don’t know. More… rockstar, I guess. Less…” I trail off, not sure how to finish the sentence.

He laughs, a genuine laugh this time, and it’s infectious. “Less what? Human?”

“Something like that,” I admit, feeling my cheeks flush.

He leans back, studying me again, and I swear I can feel his gaze burning through me. “You’re not so bad yourself,” he says finally, his voice low and husky. “For a newbie.”

I snort, but I’m smiling now, the tension between us easing into something lighter, more comfortable. We fall into an easy rhythm, talking about music, our backgrounds, the grind of the industry. Sam’s cheeky humor has me laughing more than I have in weeks, and for a moment, I forget about the weight of the night, the pressure of the gig, the uncertainty of it all.

But then, as the conversation lulls, the silence stretches between us, thick and heavy. Sam’s eyes lock onto mine, and suddenly, the air feels charged, electric. I can feel his gaze on my lips, my neck, my chest, and my skin prickles with awareness.

“You’re beautiful, you know that?” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper.

My breath catches, and I swallow hard, my throat suddenly dry. “You’re not so bad yourself,” I manage, trying to keep my tone light, but my voice trembles.

He smiles, a slow, dangerous smile that sends a shiver down my spine. “Flattery will get you everywhere.”

Before I can respond, he’s leaning in, his lips brushing mine in a kiss that’s soft, tentative, but filled with promise. My heart slams against my ribs, and I close my eyes, surrendering to the moment. His lips are warm, firm, and he tastes like whiskey and smoke, a combination that’s both intoxicating and addictive.

I wrap my arms around his neck, pulling him closer, and he groans, a deep, primal sound that vibrates against my lips. His hands slide down my back, gripping my waist, and I feel the hardness of his body against mine, the heat of his desire pressing into me.

The kiss deepens, becomes frantic, desperate. His tongue tangles with mine, and I moan, a soft, needy sound that seems to fuel his hunger. He backs me against the wall, his body pinning me in place, and I wrap my legs around his waist, craving more contact, more friction.

“Fuck,” he growls, pulling back just enough to breathe. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

I pant, my chest heaving, my body on fire. “Then show me.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice. His hands roam over my body, urgent and demanding, his touch leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. He kisses my neck, my collarbone, his lips trailing down to the edge of my shirt. I arch into him, craving his mouth, his touch, the roughness of his stubble against my skin.

“I want you,” he whispers, his breath hot against my ear. “Right here, right now. Tell me to stop, and I will. But fuck, I want you.”

I shiver at the raw need in his voice, the desperation that mirrors my own. “Don’t stop,” I whisper back, my voice hoarse with desire.

He growls, a sound that’s almost animalistic, and lifts me, pressing me against the wall. His lips find mine again, and I wrap my legs tighter around him, grinding against the bulge in his jeans. He’s hard, impossibly hard, and the knowledge sends a surge of heat through me.

His hands slide under my shirt, his fingers tracing the curves of my body, teasing, tormenting. I moan, my head falling back as he sucks on the sensitive skin of my neck, his teeth grazing my skin in a way that’s both painful and exhilarating.

“You’re so fucking responsive,” he murmurs, his voice thick with lust. “It’s driving me mad.”

I pant, my body trembling with need. “Then take what you want.”

He doesn’t hesitate. His hands move to my jeans, unbuttoning them with rough efficiency. I kick them off, along with my underwear, and he groans, his eyes dark with desire as he takes in the sight of me, bare and wanting.

“Christ, you’re perfect,” he says, his voice reverent, hungry.

I flush, but the compliment only fuels my desire. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

He smirks, but the expression is fleeting as he pushes his own jeans down, revealing the thick length of his cock, already glistening with pre-cum. My mouth waters, and I reach out, wrapping my hand around him, stroking slowly, teasingly.

“Fuck,” he groans, his head falling back. “You’re going to kill me.”

I grin, but I’m not innocent, not anymore. “Maybe I like that idea.”

He chuckles, a low, rough sound, and then he’s moving, positioning himself at my entrance. I’m wet, so wet, but he teases me, pressing just the tip inside, making me whimper with need.

“Please,” I beg, my voice desperate. “I need you. Now.”

He smirks, that cheeky, playful expression that’s so at odds with the raw hunger in his eyes. “Begging already? You’re going to be the death of me.”

But he thrusts, hard and deep, filling me completely, and I cry out, my nails digging into his shoulders. He’s big, so big, stretching me in a way that’s both painful and unbelievably pleasurable.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” he growls, his voice strained as he begins to move, slow and deliberate at first, then faster, harder.

I moan, my body moving with his, meeting each thrust with a desperate need. The wall is cold against my back, but Sam’s body is a furnace, his skin hot and sweaty, his muscles flexing with each movement.

“More,” I pant, my voice hoarse. “Harder. Faster.”

He obliges, his hips snapping against mine, his cock pounding into me with a force that borders on brutal. I scream, my voice echoing in the small room, but he doesn’t stop, doesn’t slow down. He’s relentless, his hands gripping my hips so tight I know there will be bruises, but I don’t care. I want this, need this, the raw, primal intensity of it all.

“You like it rough, don’t you?” he growls, his voice dark, possessive. “Like it when I fuck you like this?”

“Yes,” I gasp, my body on the brink. “Fuck, yes. Don’t stop. Please, don’t stop.”

He laughs, a low, wicked sound, and then he’s reaching between us, his fingers finding my clit, rubbing it in quick, firm circles. I shatter, my orgasm ripping through me like a tidal wave, my walls clenching around him as I scream his name.

He follows, his body stiffening as he thrusts one last time, his cock pulsing deep inside me, filling me with his cum. He groans, his forehead pressing against mine, his breath hot and ragged.

“Fuck,” he murmurs, his voice trembling. “That was… fucking incredible.”

I laugh, a shaky, breathless sound, and wrap my arms around him, holding him close. For a moment, we just stand there, our hearts pounding, our bodies still trembling from the force of our release.

But then, slowly, he pulls back, his eyes searching mine, his expression unreadable. I feel a pang of unease, a sudden fear that I’ve misread the moment, that this was just a fling, a release of tension, nothing more.

“You okay?” I ask, my voice soft, tentative.

He nods, but his smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah. Just… caught my breath, that’s all.”

I study him, trying to read the emotions playing across his face, but he’s closed off now, distant. The intimacy of moments ago feels like a distant memory, and I’m left wondering if I imagined it all.

“You’re leaving already?” he asks, his tone casual, but there’s an edge to it, a sharpness that cuts through the air.

I glance at the clock, realizing how late it is. “Yeah, I should. Long day tomorrow.”

He nods, his expression neutral, but his eyes are unreadable. “Right. Of course.”

I hesitate, wanting to say something, to bridge the distance that’s suddenly grown between us, but I don’t know what to say. So, I just nod, a lump forming in my throat.

“See you around,” I murmur, turning to leave.

“Yeah,” he says, his voice low. “See you.”

I walk away, my heart heavy, the aftermath of our encounter leaving me more confused than satisfied. What just happened? Was it just sex, a moment of passion fueled by adrenaline and whiskey? Or was it something more?

[reinmeinfender]

Hi Loves🤍 Sorry I have been quiet this week. I had a few stories to post this week but when I logged into my account that I store them in, they have all dissappeared. I am trying to restore them but it may take a bit of time, so I will hopefully get some small, basic stories to you all today/tomorrow. I am so sorry, I'm heartbroken that they have all gone but hopefully I can get it sorted soon x

[reinmeinfender]

People Watching Tour Paris

[reinmeinfender]

Through The Storm

The air hangs heavy with the scent of stale beer and sweat as I push through the backstage doors, my heart pounding a rhythm that doesn’t quite match the thrum of the crowd still echoing in the arena. Two weeks. It’s only been two weeks, but it feels like a lifetime since I last stood in this chaotic, electric world. The world of the tour, of the band, of Sam.

My fingers brush against the strap of my camera, a familiar weight that usually brings comfort, but tonight it feels foreign, like an extension of a life I’m not sure I can slip back into. The emergency that ripped me away from this whirlwind left me raw, a gaping wound that time hasn’t fully healed. Grandma’s passing hit harder than I expected, leaving a void that even the constant buzz of the road can’t fill.

The familiar faces of the crew blur past me, their laughter and chatter a jarring contrast to the silence that’s become my constant companion. I’m not ready for this. Not yet. But here I am, back in the eye of the storm, trying to find my footing in a world that’s kept spinning without me.

A hand clamps down on my shoulder, warm and solid, pulling me from my spiraling thoughts. I turn, my breath catching in my throat as Sam’s blue eyes meet mine, a storm of concern swirling in their depths.

“Hey, you,” he murmurs, his voice a low rumble that sends a shiver down my spine. It’s a greeting, but it’s more than that. It’s a lifeline, a tether back to the world I’ve been adrift from. “How are you holding up? Really?”

His question hangs in the air, heavy with sincerity. It’s not the casual “hey, how are you?” tossed around like confetti. This is Sam, the man who’s seen me at my most vulnerable, who’s witnessed the cracks in my armor. He’s not asking for a polite response; he’s demanding honesty, demanding I let him in.

I swallow the lump in my throat, my voice raspy as I answer, “I’m... getting there.”

It’s a lie, but it’s the best I can manage. Sam’s gaze doesn’t waver, his eyes searching mine for the truth I’m not ready to share. He nods, a slow, understanding movement, before pulling me into a hug that feels like coming home.

His embrace is strong, his muscular frame a comforting wall against the chaos. I breathe in the familiar scent of his cologne, a mix of leather and something distinctly Sam, and for a moment, the weight on my chest eases.

“Good to have you back,” he whispers against my hair, his voice thick with emotion.

I nod, my face buried in the warmth of his chest, clinging to the solace he offers. When he finally pulls away, his hand lingers on my shoulder, a silent promise of support.

The next few days blur together, a haze of soundchecks, meet and greets, and the constant hum of the crowd. But amidst the chaos, Sam is a constant presence, a quiet guardian angel watching over me.

During soundcheck, he’ll wander over, his guitar slung casually over his shoulder, and sit beside me, his thigh brushing against mine.

“You okay over here?” he’ll ask, his tone light, but his eyes, those piercing blue orbs, searching mine for any hint of pain.

I’ll force a smile, grateful for his concern but not ready to unravel the tangled mess of emotions within me. He’ll nod, accepting my silence, and strum a few chords, the melody weaving a gentle spell around us.

Mealtimes are a different story. The band’s usual boisterous banter feels overwhelming, the laughter grating against my raw nerves. But Sam, ever attuned to my unspoken needs, always saves a seat for me, sliding a plate of food my way with a knowing grin.

“Eat up,” he’ll say, his voice a gentle command laced with kindness.

He’ll engage me in light conversation, steering clear of the elephant in the room, allowing me to participate at my own pace. His presence is a shield, deflecting the well-meaning but intrusive questions from the others.

When the band erupts into their usual post meal antics, Sam makes sure I’m not left on the sidelines.

“Come on, don’t be shy,” he’ll tease, his arm slung casually around my shoulders, drawing me into the circle of laughter and camaraderie. “You’re part of this family, remember?”

His words, simple yet profound, resonate deep within me. Family. It’s a word that’s taken on a new meaning since Grandma’s passing, a word that now feels both comforting and painfully absent. But here, with Sam, with the band, I find a semblance of that warmth, a reminder that I’m not alone.

One night, after a particularly exhausting show, I find myself sitting alone backstage, the weight of the past weeks pressing down on me. The arena, once pulsating with energy, is now silent, the crowd long gone. I’m alone with my thoughts, the silence a stark contrast to the chaos that usually surrounds me.

A soft click echoes through the emptiness, followed by the familiar scent of chamomile tea. I look up to see Sam, a mug cradled in his hands, his gaze soft as he approaches.

“Thought you might need this,” he says, his voice a gentle whisper in the stillness.

He sits beside me, not saying a word, his presence a silent promise that I’m not alone in this quiet moment. We sit there, sipping our tea, the only sound the occasional creak of the cooling stage.

It’s in these quiet moments that Sam’s kindness truly shines. He doesn’t need words, doesn’t need grand gestures. His mere presence is enough, a steady stream of warmth that slowly begins to mend the cracks within me.

As the days turn into weeks, Sam’s small acts of kindness become my anchor, a lifeline in the turbulent sea of grief. Whether it’s a playful nudge during a band meeting, a shared laugh over a inside joke, or simply his presence during moments of silence, he makes sure I feel seen, cared for, and valued.

His affection isn’t showy, isn’t proclaimed from the rooftops. It’s in the way he remembers my coffee order, the way he notices when I’m feeling overwhelmed and offers a silent retreat, the way his hand brushes mine during a particularly difficult soundcheck.

It’s in the way he listens, truly listens, when I finally find the courage to share snippets of my grief, his eyes filled with empathy, his silence a safe haven for my pain.

As the tour winds down, I realize Sam hasn’t just been a bandmate, hasn’t just been a friend. He’s been my lifeline, a beacon of light in the darkness, a reminder that even in the midst of loss, there is still warmth, still connection, still hope.

The final show looms ahead, a bittersweet culmination of months on the road. The arena buzzes with anticipation, the crowd’s energy palpable as the band takes the stage. I stand backstage, my camera in hand, capturing the final moments of this chapter.

Sam catches my eye mid song, his gaze locking with mine across the sea of screaming fans. He offers a small smile, a silent acknowledgment of the journey we’ve shared, before launching into the final chorus, his voice soaring with a passion that sends shivers down my spine.

As the last note fades, the crowd erupts into cheers, the applause thunderous in the arena. The band takes their final bow, the weight of the tour’s end settling over us all.

Backstage, amidst the chaos of packing and goodbyes, Sam finds me, his eyes searching mine in the dimly lit corridor.

“You did it,” he says, his voice soft but filled with pride. “You came back, and you made it through.”

I smile, a genuine smile that feels foreign yet welcome. “I couldn’t have done it without you,” I admit, my voice thick with emotion. “You were my rock, Sam.”

He shrugs, a hint of a blush creeping onto his cheeks, his usual cheeky grin replaced by a softer, more vulnerable expression.

“Just doing what friends do,” he mumbles, his gaze dropping to the floor.

But I see it, the flicker of something more in his eyes, a spark that hints at unspoken feelings, at a connection that goes beyond friendship.

The moment stretches, charged with unspoken words, with possibilities left unvoiced. The future stretches before us, uncertain yet filled with potential.

As we stand there, the weight of the tour’s end mingling with the promise of new beginnings, I realize that this isn’t an ending. It’s a pause, a moment to catch our breath before the next chapter unfolds.

And as Sam’s hand brushes mine, a silent question hanging in the air, I know that whatever comes next, we’ll face it together. Because in the midst of the chaos, in the heart of the storm, we’ve found each other. And sometimes, that’s all you need to weather any storm.

[reinmeinfender]

That recent fic you did was amazing, I loved it sm 😭😭 Ik you said you weren’t overly happy with it but I thought it was great !!💕💕 I know you just posted two new fics (so take as much time as you need) but do you think you could write a fic about the reader being the photographer for the band but some sad family emergency happens and she has to fly home suddenly and Sam immediately gets worried and comforts her when he sees her again? I’m so sorry that was so long LOL but only write it if you’re comfortable with it ofc. Thank you!!!

Hi Lovely, Thank you so much, you are so sweet🤍 Of course I can! I love suggestions from you all, it helps me as I'm not very imaginative haha. I'll get writing as I have nothing to do this weekend x

[reinmeinfender]

Tour Bus Confessions Pt. 5

The after party is in full swing at a chic downtown loft, the kind of place that screams "rockstar lifestyle" with its exposed brick walls, vintage furniture, and a rooftop terrace overlooking the city’s glittering skyline. The air is thick with the scent of expensive whiskey, sweat, and the faint tang of cigarette smoke wafting in from the balcony. Music pulses through the room, a mix of classic rock and modern beats, but it’s not the band’s usual playlist, tonight, they’re just like everyone else, letting loose after a killer show.

I spot Sam across the room, his blue eyes scanning the crowd until they land on me. There’s a moment, just a heartbeat, where our gazes lock, and the noise around us fades into a distant hum. His lips curve into that cheeky smile I’ve come to adore, and he raises his glass in a silent toast before disappearing into the throng of people. My heart stutters, a familiar mix of excitement and nervousness coiling in my chest.

I weave through the crowd, my fingers brushing against the necklace he gave me, a simple silver pendant engraved with the first line of the song we wrote together. It’s become my talisman, a reminder of what we’re building, even if it’s still fragile and unspoken. The loft is packed, but I’m drawn to the rooftop, sensing he’ll be there. The cool night air hits me as I step outside, and sure enough, Sam leans against the railing, his silhouette framed by the city lights.

“Thought I’d find you here,” I say, my voice soft but steady.

He turns, his smile widening as he takes in my approach. “You know me too well.” His tone is playful, but there’s an undercurrent of something deeper, something that makes my stomach flip. “You’re glowing tonight. The stage suits you.”

I laugh, a nervous flutter in my chest. “Or maybe it’s just the after party glow. You know, the kind that comes from surviving Joe’s chicken dance blackmail.”

Sam chuckles, his eyes glinting with amusement. “Ah, yes. The chicken dance. A moment of pure artistry.” He steps closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Though I think our serenade was the real masterpiece.”

Our serenade. The memory of our voices blending sent a shiver down my spine. “You’re biased,” I tease, but my cheeks flush under his gaze.

He leans in, his breath warm against my ear. “Maybe. But I’m also right.” His hand finds mine, his fingers lacing through mine like they belong there. “Come on, let’s get some air. The crowd’s getting to me.”

We walk to the far end of the rooftop, where the noise of the party fades into the distant hum of the city. The stars are faint, overshadowed by the urban glow, but the night feels intimate, like the world has narrowed to just the two of us. Sam’s thumb brushes the back of my hand, a small gesture that sends sparks racing up my arm.

“You’ve been on my mind all night,” he admits, his voice low and rough. “The way you looked on stage… the way you sang… it’s like you’re becoming a part of me, and I’m not sure how to handle it.”

My heart swells at his words, but there’s a tightness in my chest, too. “Sam, we can’t keep doing this, sneaking around, pretending it’s not happening. It’s not fair to us, or to the band.”

He stops, turning to face me fully. His expression is a mix of vulnerability and determination, and it takes my breath away. “I know. I’ve been thinking about that, too. But… I’m scared. What if this ruins everything? What if we lose what we have?”

I step closer, my hand cupping his cheek. “We won’t. We’re stronger than that. We’ve been friends for years, Sam. This… this is just the next chapter. We’ll figure it out together.”

His eyes search mine, and for a moment, I see the fear in them, fear of losing me, fear of losing himself. But then he nods, a small, resolute movement. “Together,” he echoes, his voice hoarse.

Before either of us can say another word, he pulls me into him, his lips crashing against mine with a hunger that leaves me breathless. His kiss is fierce, desperate, like he’s trying to pour all his unspoken feelings into this one moment. I melt into him, my hands tangling in his hair, my body pressing against his. The world around us dissolves, leaving only the heat of his skin, the taste of his mouth, the rhythm of his heart pounding against mine.

His hands roam down my back, pulling me tighter against him, and I feel the hard planes of his muscular body beneath his shirt. There’s an urgency in his touch, a need that mirrors my own. I moan softly into his mouth, my nails digging into his shoulders as he deepens the kiss, his tongue tangling with mine in a dance that’s both familiar and wildly new.

“I’ve wanted you all night,” he murmurs against my lips, his breath hot and uneven. “Every time you looked at me, every time our voices blended… I wanted to pull you into a corner and”

“And what?” I whisper, my pulse racing as his hands slide down to grip my hips.

His eyes darken, his gaze dropping to my lips before meeting mine again. “And do this.”

He kisses me again, slower this time, his lips tracing the curve of my jaw, the shell of my ear. His hands move restlessly, tugging at the hem of my shirt, and I shiver as his fingers brush the bare skin of my waist. I pull back just enough to meet his eyes, my heart pounding in my chest.

“Sam,” I breathe, my voice trembling. “We’re still at the party. Someone could…”

“No one’s coming,” he interrupts, his voice a low growl. “Not now. Not ever. It’s just you and me.”

His words send a jolt of desire through me, and I nod, my resistance crumbling under the weight of his gaze. He pulls my shirt over my head, tossing it aside without a second thought, and I’m left in just my bra, the cool night air raising goosebumps on my skin. His eyes rake over me, hungry and appreciative, and I feel a flush of heat spread across my chest.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmurs, his hands cupping my breasts, his thumbs brushing over my nipples through the lace. I arch into his touch, a soft gasp escaping my lips as pleasure coils low in my belly.

“Sam,” I whisper, my head falling back as he kisses his way down my neck, his lips leaving a trail of fire in their wake. His hands move to the clasp of my bra, and I hold my breath as he unhooks it, letting it fall to the ground. He steps back just enough to take in the sight of me, his eyes dark with desire.

“Perfect,” he rasps, his voice thick with need.

He presses me against the railing, his body caging me in, and I feel the hardness of his erection pressing against my thigh. His lips find mine again, his kisses hungry and demanding, his hands roaming over my body like he’s memorizing every curve. I wrap my arms around his neck, pulling him closer, my legs trembling as he lifts me onto the railing, my back pressed against the cold metal.

“Sam,” I moan, my voice a plea as his hands slide down to the waistband of my jeans. He hooks his fingers into the denim, pulling them down my legs along with my panties, leaving me bare and exposed to the night air. My cheeks flush with embarrassment, but the look in his eyes, raw, unbridled want, sends a surge of boldness through me.

“You’re so wet for me,” he growls, his fingers dipping between my legs, his touch sending a jolt of pleasure through me. “So fucking ready.”

I bite my lip, my hands gripping his shoulders as he teases me, his fingers circling my clit before slipping inside me, his touch slow and deliberate. “Sam, please,” I beg, my voice shaking.

He chuckles, a dark, sinful sound, before pulling his hand away, his fingers glistening with my arousal. “Impatient, aren’t we?”

Before I can respond, he’s pushing my legs apart, his mouth replacing his hand, his tongue pressing against my core with a hunger that makes me cry out. His hands grip my hips, holding me steady as he tastes me, his tongue flicking and lapping with a rhythm that has me squirming against him, my fingers tangling in his hair.

“Sam, I” My words dissolve into a moan as he sucks gently on my clit, his tongue swirling in a way that has me teetering on the edge of release. The pleasure is overwhelming, a tidal wave crashing over me, and I can’t hold back the sounds escaping my lips, the way my body arches into his touch.

“That’s it,” he murmurs against my skin, his voice muffled but clear. “Let go for me.”

His words are my undoing. My orgasm ripples through me, a burst of ecstasy that leaves me shaking, my cries echoing into the night. He holds me steady, his mouth never stopping, his tongue drawing out every last shudder of pleasure until I’m boneless in his arms.

When he finally pulls back, his lips swollen and glistening, he looks up at me with a smirk that makes my heart race all over again. “Your turn,” he says, his voice low and wicked.

I blink, still dazed from my climax, and he chuckles, helping me down from the railing. His jeans are tented, his erection straining against the fabric, and I feel a surge of desire at the sight. I step closer, my hands going to the button of his jeans, my fingers trembling as I undo them.

“Slow,” he warns, his voice a rough whisper. “I want to feel every second of this.”

I nod, my heart pounding as I pull his jeans and boxers down, freeing his cock. It’s thick and hard, veins pulsing beneath the skin, and I swallow hard, my cheeks flushing with anticipation. I take him in my hand, my thumb brushing over the head, and he hisses, his head falling back as he fights for control.

“You’re killing me,” he groans, his hands gripping my hips.

I smile, a wicked glint in my eye, and sink to my knees, my lips brushing the tip of his cock. He shudders, his hands tangling in my hair, and I take him into my mouth, my tongue swirling around the head before I slide down, taking as much of him as I can. He tastes like salt and skin, and the sound of his ragged breaths above me sends a thrill through me.

I move slowly, my lips tight around him, my tongue tracing the length of him as I bob my head. His hands tighten in my hair, his hips jerking slightly, and I hum around him, the vibration sending a shudder through his body.

“Fuck,” he groans, his voice tight with restraint. “You’re going to make me..”

I pull off, my lips dragging along his length, and look up at him, my eyes locking with his. “Make you what?”

His gaze is dark, his pupils blown wide with need. “Make me lose it.”

I smirk, my hand wrapping around the base of his cock as I take him into my mouth again, this time with more urgency. He groans, his hips thrusting slightly, and I hollow my cheeks, sucking harder, my tongue flicking over the sensitive spot beneath the head.

“That’s it,” he rasps, his voice a low growl. “Just like that.”

His control fractures, his hips moving in time with my mouth, and I feel him swelling, his cock twitching as he nears the edge. “I’m close,” he warns, his voice hoarse.

I don’t stop, my lips and tongue working him with a rhythm that has him cursing my name, his hands gripping my hair tighter. “Come for me,” I murmur, my voice muffled but clear.

His response is a guttural groan as he thrusts into my mouth one last time, his body tensing as he spills over, his cum hot and thick on my tongue. I swallow, milking him with my hand and mouth until he’s spent, his breaths coming in ragged gasps.

When I pull back, he looks down at me, his eyes soft but still smoldering. “You’re going to be the death of me,” he says, his voice a mix of amusement and awe.

I stand, my hands smoothing his hair as I press a soft kiss to his lips. “I think you can handle it,” I tease, my heart swelling at the way his arms wrap around me, holding me close.

We stand there for a moment, the city lights twinkling around us, the sounds of the party a distant hum. His lips brush my forehead, his breath warm against my skin. “I’m serious,” he murmurs. “You’re everything to me. Don’t ever doubt that.”

My chest tightens at his words, and I press closer, my hands gripping his shirt. “You’re everything to me, too,” I whisper, my voice thick with emotion.

He pulls back just enough to look at me, his eyes searching mine. “We’ll figure this out. Together. No more secrets, no more hiding. We’re in this for the long haul.”

I nod, my heart overflowing with hope and fear and everything in between. “Together,” I echo, my voice steady.

His lips curve into that cheeky smile I love, and he pulls me into another kiss, softer this time, a promise of what’s to come. The night stretches out before us, full of uncertainty, but in this moment, with Sam’s arms around me and the city at our feet, it feels like anything is possible.

As we step back into the party, hand in hand, I know one thing for certain: this is just the beginning.

[reinmeinfender]

Your fics are so good omg!!! Like your writing is amazing and you’re one of the only few people on here that I think writes accurate Fender fics!! I was just wondering if you could write a oneshot where the reader is the photographer for the band and Sam has a thing for her? And they have like playful banter between them? Thank you so much!!!

Awe stop that is so sweet, thank you so much ☺️ Of course I can, I'll try post one tonight but if not I shall post one tomorrow. Thank you for such a lovely message🤍 x

[reinmeinfender]

Hi love, I have just uploaded one for you. I'm not overly happy with it, I think I could have wrote something a lot better but I wanted to get something posted for you. So if I feel a bit more creative I'll write something better🤍 x

[reinmeinfender]

Behind The Lens

The stage lights cast a golden glow over the chaos backstage, the air thick with the hum of anticipation and the faint tang of sweat and adrenaline. I’m hunched over my camera, scrolling through the shots I’ve taken so far, Sam showing off his big grin during the chorus, Drew, lost in a frenzy of sticks and cymbals, Tom, his fingers flying over the strings with a focus that’s almost hypnotic. The crowd is eating it up, and I’m here to capture every moment, every flicker of energy that makes this band, Sam’s band, so electric.

But it’s Sam who always steals the show. Not just because he’s the frontman, but because there’s something about him, something magnetic, something that makes you want to watch him, even when he’s not singing. Maybe it’s the way he moves, all lean muscle and effortless grace, or the way his blue eyes seem to spark with mischief even from across the room. Or maybe it’s just the way he is, cheeky, charming, and impossibly handsome.

Speaking of which, here he comes now, leaning against the wall just behind me, one eyebrow raised in that signature way of his. “You know, if you keep taking photos of me like this, people might start thinking I’m your muse,” he teases, his voice dripping with playful charm. I can’t help but chuckle, adjusting the strap of my camera as I fire back, “Oh, please, you’re just lucky I’m here to capture your ‘rockstar’ moments.”

He laughs, an almost cartoonish giggle, an infectious sound that always makes my heart skip a beat, and saunters closer, his boots scuffing against the concrete floor. “Admit it, you love having me in your frame,” he says, nudging my shoulder with his. “It’s the only way to keep you from running off to photograph something boring, like Drew’s drumsticks.”

I roll my eyes, but I can’t help the smile tugging at the corners of my mouth. “Flattery won’t get you extra shots, Samuel.”

“Oh, I’m not after extra shots,” he replies, winking. “I’m after you.”

Before I can respond, before I can even process what he’s said, he’s already bouncing away, skipping down the hallway, calling over his shoulder, “Catch you later, photographer. Don’t forget to save the best photos for me!”

I shake my head, laughing, but the warmth in my chest lingers long after he’s gone. Sam has always been like this, flirty, cheeky, and just the right amount of annoying. It’s part of his charm, I suppose. But there’s something about tonight, something in the way he said those words, that feels different. Maybe it’s the way his eyes lingered just a bit too long, or the way his smile seemed softer than usual. Or maybe I’m just imagining things.

The show flies by in a blur of lights and sound. Sam is a whirlwind on stage, his voice raw and powerful as he belts out the lyrics to Hypersonic Missiles. The crowd is eating out of his hand, screaming his name and singing along to every word. I snap photo after photo, trying to capture the essence of him, the way he throws himself into the performance, the way his muscles flex under his tight black t-shirt, the way his eyes close as he hits the high notes, like he’s lost in the music.

When the final chord fades and the crowd erupts into cheers, I lower my camera, feeling a strange mix of exhaustion and exhilaration. Sam takes a bow, then turns to his bandmates, slapping them high-fives and exchanging grins. For a moment, he catches my eye, and I swear there’s a spark there, something unspoken, something that makes my stomach flip.

But then he’s off again, disappearing into the chaos of backstage, leaving me to wonder if I imagined it all.

The green room is a mess of half-empty water bottles, crumpled set lists, and the faint scent of beer and sweat. The band is sprawled across the couches, laughing and joking as they relive the night’s highlights. Sam is in the center of it all, as usual, his voice rising above the rest as he recounts some ridiculous story about a fan who tried to sneak backstage.

I’m sitting in the corner, nursing a bottle of water and trying to blend into the background. It’s not that I don’t like the band, I do, genuinely. They’re a great bunch of guys, and they’ve welcomed me into their world with open arms. But sometimes, it’s nice to just observe, to soak in the energy without having to be a part of it.

“Hey, photographer,” Sam says, breaking into my thoughts. He’s standing in front of me now, a mischievous grin stretching across his face. “You’re awfully quiet over there. Come join the fun.”

I shrug, taking a sip of my water. “I’m good here. You guys look like you’re having a blast.”

He raises an eyebrow, leaning against the arm of the couch. “You sure? I thought you liked a good time.”

“I do,” I reply, meeting his gaze. “But sometimes, it’s nice to just watch.”

He studies me for a moment, his blue eyes narrowing slightly, like he’s trying to figure me out. Then, he straightens up, flashing that grin again. “Suit yourself. But if you change your mind, the offer stands.”

Before I can respond, he’s already turning away, joining in on another round of laughter with the rest of the band. I watch him for a moment longer, feeling that familiar warmth creep into my chest. Sam has this way of making everything feel lighter, brighter, like the world is a little less serious when he’s around.

As the night wears on, the room starts to clear out. The band members drift off one by one, heading to their buses, leaving Sam and me alone in the green room. He’s sitting on the couch now, scrolling through his phone, his boots kicked off and his feet propped up on the coffee table.

“You heading out soon?” he asks, glancing up at me.

I shake my head, setting my water bottle down. “Not yet. I’ve got a few more things to pack up.”

He nods, his thumb tapping absently on his screen. “Need any help?”

“Nah, I’m good,” I reply, standing up and stretching. “But thanks for the offer.”

He looks up at me then, his eyes locking onto mine, and for a moment, the room feels quieter, like the world has narrowed down to just the two of us. “You know,” he says, his voice low and steady, “I meant what I said earlier.”

My heart stutters in my chest, and I freeze, not sure what to say. “What do you mean?”

He shrugs, a faint flush creeping up his neck. “About… you know. Being after you.”

I laugh, but it sounds a little too forced, even to my own ears. “Sam, you say that to everyone.”

He shakes his head, his gaze intense. “Not like this. Not like I mean it.”

The air between us feels charged, electric, and I’m suddenly hyperaware of every little thing, the way his hair falls over his forehead, the way his lips curve into a half-smile, the way his chest rises and falls with each breath. “Sam..”

“I know,” he cuts me off, holding up a hand. “I’m just saying. I’ve always thought you were… incredible. And not just because you take great photos.”

I swallow hard, my throat suddenly dry. “Sam, you don’t have to”

“I want to,” he insists, leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “You’re funny, and smart, and you’ve got this way of seeing the world that’s… I don’t know. It’s just… you.”

I don’t know what to say, so I just stand there, my heart pounding in my chest. Sam has always been flirty, always been the life of the party, but this, this feels different. This feels real.

He must see the conflict in my eyes because he lets out a soft laugh, running a hand through his hair. “I’m not asking for anything, alright? Just… wanted you to know.”

I nod, my mind racing. “Thanks, Sam. I… I appreciate it.”

He smiles, but it’s a little sad, a little uncertain. “Alright. Well, I should probably get going. Long drive tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” I agree, stepping back. “Safe travels.”

He stands up, towering over me, and for a moment, I think he’s going to say something else, but then he just nods, turning toward the door. “See you around, photographer.”

“See you,” I call after him, watching as he disappears into the hallway.

The green room feels eerily quiet once he’s gone, the absence of his energy leaving a void that’s hard to ignore. I take a deep breath, trying to steady my racing heart, and get back to packing up my equipment. But no matter how hard I try, I can’t shake the feeling that something has shifted, something between Sam and me, something that’s left me questioning everything.

As I load the last of my gear into my bag, I can’t help but wonder what it all means. Is this just another one of Sam’s playful jokes, or is there something more there? And more importantly, what the hell am I supposed to do about it?

For now, I don’t have the answers. But one thing’s for sure, things between Sam and me may never be the same again. And as I step out into the cool night air, the weight of that realization settles over me, leaving me both excited and terrified for whatever comes next.

[reinmeinfender]

Your fics are so good omg!!! Like your writing is amazing and you’re one of the only few people on here that I think writes accurate Fender fics!! I was just wondering if you could write a oneshot where the reader is the photographer for the band and Sam has a thing for her? And they have like playful banter between them? Thank you so much!!!

Awe stop that is so sweet, thank you so much ☺️ Of course I can, I'll try post one tonight but if not I shall post one tomorrow. Thank you for such a lovely message🤍 x

[reinmeinfender]

I hope you all enjoy the new fic! Cannot believe Sam is on his second to last date for his European tour tonight. It has flown by! I hope any of you that went to one of his shows recently loved it x