Guys Im Making A Fic But Idk If I Want To Make It TheDirt!NikkiSkxx X Reader Or Not… What Do U Guys

HES SOO GORGEOUS

Any super rare Nikki photos? I’ve been looking everywhere for some and can’t find any. I’m a collector big time and I enjoy getting photos of rockers and I see you post motley and right now I’m outta Nikki rare photos and photos in general. I always love finding the rares of my favorite artists.

Hiii. Oh, Super rares 😆 I have a lot of stuff, but super rare pics can't all be fixed, so I don't post much. But if you are a collector you must be interested in everything, like me, I collect everything. I've posted a lot of rare ones here and on my old blog before, photos have been around instagram for a while now, lol

"Hooligan's Holiday" Backstage

Nikki in the studio 1994, why so he photographed the author did not specify, strange photo but super rare 😆

What that girl next to Nikki is I don't know exactly, but it's during the time Tommy was with Elaine

The rest I don't think you need to explain

Every famous person has a problematic past and yes Motley Crue is known more for their antics than music at this point but why do people act like men don’t have feelings

Why do you think Vince is private now and has his comments turned off

EXACTLY!!

Js cuz their celebrities that’s been around for years dosent mean they can’t get sad over things idiots say to them:((

It truly breaks my heart thinking about it

I need him so bad

GIMME HEAD GIMME HEAD GIMME HEAD GIMME HEADDDDDDDD

WGAHSHAHH)DNEOCBROWNXOhsisjodh8hHEKEKFNW!!!!

HIM IN THE LIVE WIRE MUSIC VIDEO!!

I was in the middle of making a Jesse pinkman headcannon post & totally forgot to save my progress. I lost half of everything i wrote down.

fml.

i saw this on my instagram feed and went insane

ily nikki sixx come home nikki sixx

HE KNOWS

VMPYRIA POSTED ANOTHER BANGER GUYS

CHECK IT OUT NOW

— SAL FISHER X READER : psychiatrist’s office.

NSFW! p in v, fem!reader, creampie, blowjob, etc etc.

reader is basically my oc, BUT it’s all in the full pov of an x reader fic, so enjoy! i looove prison sal, he wants me so bad teheheheh, i wish i could’ve made him a bit darker, but for this one i wanted to stay with a sal interpretation that fit canon! reblogs and replies motivate me to write more!

your sessions with the mass murderer, sal fisher, are weekly — up until his trial date.

“good morning, mr. fisher.” you said calmly as he was forcefully pushed inside your office. the guards aren’t good people, their position fuels their head with power, making them all believe they were some sort of god.

you frowned as you saw the man stumble after a shove, sal’s gaze was on the floor when sat down. the guards glared down at him.

sal had been pleading not guilty, your job was to examine him mentally, to dissect his mind.

you were tasked to find out why he killed everyone.

in all of your meetings, the man explained a detailed story about his life, about the paranormal activity he came across with. you could even say you believed him, he told his stories clearly.

you asked him the same questions over and over, for him to tell you his past. even with all the repeated questions, he also repeated the same story, no faults, no missing points.

you believed him.

as your meetings progress, you began to enter the realm of..unprofessionalism.

your gaze would linger, your eyes would subtly examine his body, you would stare at his chest, then at the slight chub of his stomach that was covered by his loose inmate uniform.

this wasn’t good.

at night, you would fantasize about him, about what he would be like on top of you, under you, how he would feel between your legs —

it was bad, to the point that when your hand would slip down your pajama pants and all you could think about was him.

you have seen his face too, and for some odd reason..it attracted you more.

you were playing with fire, one wrong move and all of those years spent in university to get your degree would be down the drain.

but, fuck.

you couldn’t deny the fact that you wanted him badly.

looking at the man before you, his gaze was focused on you intently.

he knew what was happening, you may think you were sly, but he’s seen your gaze travel, the way occasionally your cheeks would heat up.

you were still professional in your speech, but he knew.

he could see the way your legs crossed and the way your thighs squeezed together.

it was surprising for him. you, his psychiatrist, seemed to be fantasize about him. him? a deformed, scarred, mass murderer that everyone believed was a psycho path.

“how are you today, mr. fisher?” you asked calmly, lowering your glasses so they framed your nose, your hair was held back by a claw clip and overall you looked good, professional and pretty.

sal stared at you, his gaze focused on your pretty face.

he let out a breath, “not good.” he replied.

“whys that?” you asked with a hum, your legs crossing. you let your papers rest on your lap as you stared up at sal.

he let out a small breath, “i’m in prison.” he replied, a bit of attitude laced in his words. you stopped yourself from scoffing.

“well, you killed people, sal. of course it bounded you to end up here.” you stated, looking at him.

sal shrugged his shoulders.

you stared at him and let out a sigh, “is there anything specific bothering you? other than the fact you’re in the facility.” you asked, curious on how he’s getting along with the inmates.

sal hummed, given the fact he had committed mass murder, most of the inmates didn’t mess with him. they didn’t push him around, they didn’t fight him, or any of the sorts.

he’s heard people call him names, but that’s not unusual.

the inmates were scared of him.

though, as time ticked by, other things began to bother him.

privacy wasn’t an option in prison, he was shoved in a room with four other guys, sal keeps too himself, but given the amount of people around him constantly he couldn’t do much to relief his urges.

it’s been weeks now, and though he doesn’t complain, he desperately wants to satisfy himself.

to put it lightly, he wanted to beat his cock until his body couldn’t take it anymore.

“hm,” sal wasn’t sure what to say, honesty is what’s required in your office, but he didn’t have to air out his dirty laundry like this.

you tilted your head slightly, “mr. fisher?” you mused, “is everything alright?” you asked genuinely.

sal raised his gaze back at you and let out a breath, “how do inmates generally relief their..urges?” he asked, his voice trailing off slightly.

it was embarrassing to ask, especially given the fact you were a woman. he didn’t enjoy having to speak of such topics like that, but you where his psychiatrist — you should be able to understand, right?

you were surprised by his question, given that hasn’t been the topic of discussion you expected, but you didn’t mind.

you have learned many things by working in the prison, so you could help.

“well, most prisoners, they find satisfaction between themselves while some go to secluded places and relieve themselves there.” you explained, though your mind was going wild.

the fantasies you had about him were reflowing your brain.

this wasn’t right — this was illegal, you could get in serious trouble for this.

“..i can help you.”

your voice was quiet, you didn’t even think much about what you were going to say until you said it, the need had clouded your head for a moment.

sal stared at you, behind the prosthetic his eyes were blown wide.

what?

now it was his time to squirm, his cock beginning to harden under his orange jumpsuit. he looked down and cleared his throat, staring down at the bulge in his pants. his face was hot.

you swallowed a lump in the back of your throat before clearing it.

“my apologies, i— i wasn’t thinking. im sorry for my unprofessional behavior.” you stammered horrified by your lack of self control.

you grabbed your papers hurriedly, “how about we just continue with your session?” you said, hoping to forget about what just happened, but sal couldn’t.

his cock was hard, straining against his underwear. it was so sensitive too— it had been so long.

his hands were cuffed in front of his body, so in desperate need for relief, sal’s palm pressed against his boner.

you stared at the man, noticing what was happening.

looking around your office, you gulped.

there weren’t any cameras installed in your office, it was something to have the patients feel less paranoid and more relaxed in your office.

you had a button that was there in case of emergencies if anything where to happen.

biting your lip, you stood from your chair was walked around the corner to where he sat. hearing your heels with each step, he looked up at you.

“mr. fisher..do you want help?”

sal’s breathing got heavy behind the prosthetic, where you really going go do this?

you were looking down at him, waiting for his reply, heat pooling between your legs, coating your pretty red panties.

sal shuddered and nodded his head, his hand pressed against his bulge to find any form of friction that can help him.

“we don’t have cameras here..” you said softly, sal scooted his chair back and you slipped between his legs. you slowly sank down to your knees and your hands gripped his inner thighs as you made yourself comfortable.

sal’s legs were spread, manspreading, you looked up at him.

adjusting your glasses, your gaze fell back onto his boner, gently you moved his hand away and pursed your lips.

sal was looking down at you, now that you were so close you could notice how intense his stare is. you even noticed his pupil was large.

undoing the knot of his waist line, you slipped your hands under and shyly pulled his pants and underwear down.

sal shivered at your touch.

he moved his cuffed hands and let them rest on top of your head so they didn’t stand in the way of your actions.

he looked up and let his gaze focus on the wall in front him, he felt your fingers trace his skin, making him a quirm, then your hand wrapped around his shaft.

a groan left his lips as his head bowed down again, lidded eyes watched as you pulled his cock out.

looking up at him, your eyebrows were raised.

slowly, you leaned down and licked his tip, sal’s body shook.

you leaned your head down and pressed your tongue at the based of his cock, you held his dick up and licked from the bottom up, following the line back to his tip before your lips wrapped around the head.

a breath left sal’s lips as his head leaned back, his eyes shutting as he savored the warm, wet feeling of your mouth against his cock.

one hand held his cock at the base, while the other slipping down to fondle him.

holy fuck.

sal’s head felt like it was going to explode. he felt so good with you wrapped around him, it was killing him.

his hands gripped the back of your head and eagerly forced you to down his cock. it felt so good — he couldn’t control his actions.

your head was pushed down, his cock reaching the back of your throat while your face was pressed against his pubic bone.

you gagged, your shoulders shaking, your hands moved to grip his thighs, your nails digging into his pants. your eyes got overwhelmed with tears due to the gagging, but sal was too lost in his own little world.

he panted quietly as he fucked your mouth.

he moved your head up and down with a lot more force than you had imagined before a shaky grunt left his lips.

he kept your lips pressed against the base of his cock as he threw his head back, cum spurted out of his head, filling your mouth.

you almost choked, gagging as the cum slipped down your throat, luckily sal pulled your head back. one of his cuffed hands moving to jerk his shaft, trying to unload all of the pent up cum.

you shut your eyes as sal finished himself off on your face.

thank good for your glasses.

the man panted heavily, his body seeming a lot less tense.

he continued to grip his now softening cock as he regained himself from the fuzzy feeling in his head.

you sighed and took off your glasses, looking at the milky thick liquid that stained the glass.

wiping it off with you thumb, then rubbed the glass with the end of your shirt and then let them rest on the top of your head.

sal let out a deep breath before his hands moved to shove his cock back into his pants.

you quickly regained yourself and stood on your feet, your knees hurting from the extended time spent on them.

quickly remembering you just sucked off a mass murderer you cleared your throat and walked back to your chair. “this never happened, mr. fisher. understood?” you said, looking at sal with a firm look.

the man nodded his head and cleared his throat, “yeah—“ he stammered, his face was still flushed, but due to his prosthetic you couldn’t see.

looking up at your wrist watch, you hummed.

“see you next week, mr. fisher.”

sal couldn’t stop thinking about you, about what happened. it was infecting his thoughts with ideas that made him uncomfortably horny.

practically counting down the days until his next session, he was excited when the day rolled around and he could see your pretty face again.

“fisher!” one of the guards stood outside his cell, looking up, the guards glared down at him. “get up! you have your meeting with dr. ramirez today!” he yelled.

standing up, sal stepped over quietly and let the guards handcuff his arms in front of him.

the path to your office was one that he had engraved in his head, one female guard was walking in front of him, leading the way, while the male guard stood behind him.

after a minutes long walk, the three arrived to your office.

the female guard knocked loudly on the wooden door, hearing a voice call from inside, she opened the door.

“inmate sal fisher is here for his appointment.” she informed, opening the door wide so you could see the man standing by the side.

when you heard the knock on your office door, you had been reading up on sal’s file, again, and again, and again.

the case was so interesting to you, sal looked sane, he wasn’t showing signs of anti social personality disorder, he was polite — so why? you weren’t a skeptic, you believed his story, but a cult that is trying to take over the world? that seemed a bit too far fetched.

your outfit was professional, yet pretty.

a pencil skirt that hugged your hips, a white button down shirt, black thigh high stockings, and heels. your hair was being held back with the same claw clip you used before.

you looked good, though maybe your shirt was too tight for your chest..

“come in!” you called, still reading through the man’s archive. “yes?” you mused when the door opened, upon hearing sal’s name you looked up.

was it already time for his appointment?

adjusting your glasses, you looked up. “oh, yes. let him inside, thank you.” you said, nodding your head.

the male guard shoved sal inside the room and slammed the door shut. the automatic lock clicking.

“good afternoon, mr. fisher.” you hummed, putting your papers aside. “how are you today?” you asked, watching as the man sat down before you.

he hummed in response, “i’m okay.” you nodded, “better than last week, yes?” you asked, beginning to jot down his answers.

“mhm,” he hummed.

“well that’s good! i’m glad to hear you are doing better.” you said, clasping your hands together. “before we begin, is there..anything you would like to mention? about the prison, cellmates, how you have been feeling in the past week?” you listed off, placing your pen down and listening to him intently.

sal stared at you for a moment, his mind drifting up the last session he had with you, he remembered the way your lips pressed against his head, the way your lips wrapped around him — the way he shoved your head down.

he swore he could feel his mouth salivate and his blood swirling.

he cleared his throat, “uh,” he could easily say that his tension only heightened. the fact it was a problematic situation made him ache for you more.

he didn’t know what to say, was he supposed to ask again? to beg for you to help him again?

you sat across from him like before.

after last week, you couldn’t stop thinking about what happened. the thrill of it all had your mind in a chokehold.

at night, before bed, you would use your vibrator and pretended it was him, you would fuck yourself with it, starting off slow and steady — feeling the way the silicon would press on your walls, then you would increase your speed until your body couldn’t take it anymore.

thought you wished it was the real thing.

the crush you had on this man was wrong, very, very wrong. he killed an apartment complex filled with people, and yet you dreamed about having his cock fill you up.

how sick where you?

biting the inside of your lip, you cleared your throat.

“mr. fisher?” you asked, wondering where his mind had trailed off. he seemed to snap back to reality after hearing you call for him. “uh, what?” he said looking at you.

you squinted, “what are you thinking about?” you mused, asking for the sake of his case. in your assumption, you believed it could be related to the murders, to his past — but no.

he was thinking about when you gave him head, his thoughts filling with other ideas, how would you feel like when wrapped around him?

he paused. “oh, uh—“ he wasn’t sure what to say, you caught him off guard, now he was put on the spot

“you can be honest.” you reassure, trying to stay professional.

he squirmed in his seat, “you.” he replied, glancing away.

oh.

you thought, clearing your throat. “mr. fisher, what happened last week was an act of unprofessionalism..” you paused, “and it shouldn’t be repeated given the circumstances. i put my job at risk over what happened.” you explained, though your mind begged for another time spent with him.

sal nodded in understanding, but he wanted to beg for you to touch him again.

looking away from him, you let out a sigh, leaning back against your chair.

“but..” you began quietly, “if you make it quick, we won’t get caught.” you said, turning your head to stare at him.

sal gulped, feeling his cock twitch in his pants again.

“really?” he asked quietly, scooting his chair closer to the table.

nodding, you stood up from your chair and rounded the table, before sitting at the edge of the table. “really.” you confirmed, your hands moving to undo the buttons of your shirt.

your bra was black and lacy, holding your breasts perfectly. sal’s mouth felt dry as he watched you with widened eyes.

his gaze focused on your tits, how good they looked with your bra. you didn’t take off your shirt completely, but the buttons were completely undone.

sal’s cock was pressing tightly against his pants his hands trembled under the handcuffs.

you pulled your pencil skirt up and let him see the matching black panties. he let out a breath, “did you match on purpose?” he asked softly, staring at you intensely.

you smiled, “maybe.” you said, spreading your legs for him — inviting him in.

sal felt a shiver go down his spine, “fuck.” he whispered, “c’mon, stand up.” you hummed, “you have to be quick if you want do do this.” you reminded.

sal was at a loss for words, he stood up and stared down at you, your hands reached out and you tugged at the waistband of his pants, you didn’t pull them off, you simply lowered them to his mid thighs for easy access.

sal moved his cuffed hands down and he pulled his cock out from his underwear before staring back at you.

you slipped your lacy panties down and let them dangle from one of your legs.

sal watched as your pretty cunt was exposed, he was grateful his prosthetic was on, because he would he embarrassed if you saw the way he was flustered.

your cunt was slick, wet. you were already so wet for him.

he bit his bottom lip and his hands moved to grip your thighs, he yanked your thighs towards him so you were closer to him.

sal was standing between your legs, you looked down and watched as sal’s calloused hand gripped his shaft, his hands jerking himself for a bit before he pressed the girthy top against your entrance.

your body shook, wishing you had lube with you. sal moved his prosthetic hastily and exposed his lips before he spat down on his hand and spread his saliva and pre-cum down his shaft, coating it with faux lube.

after coating it with a hefty amount of saliva, he slipped his cock inside your glistening pussy.

a small gasp left your lips as his cock pushed your spongy walls apart, his cock had more girth than length, but it felt so good.

your head leaned back as a choked breath left your lips.

as he slipped inside a guttural groan left his lips, your slick walls stretching to accommodate his girth. hugging him snuggly.

your lips were parted as a soft sigh left your lips, you felt so full — no dildo could compare to the girth of him.

your hands gripped the table, trying to stabilize yourself.

sal’s grip on your thighs was tight, bruising almost. 

after he bottomed out, he leaned his head back with a breath as he savored the heat you brought him. he swears this is the best pussy he’s ever had.

his hips pressed against yours, moving his hands up to your hips, he gripped them tight before pulling his hips back and pushing back inside.

his movement was hard, putting his weight behind the thrust.

your eyes shut as a small whine left your lips, leaning down, sal rested his body on top of yours and his hips drawled back again.

his thrusts weren’t fast, but they were hard, letting you savor the way the his cock rubbed against your walls, your legs were next to hips, dangling in the air given the fact you were at the edge of the table.

sal’s arms slipped under your back, almost as if he was hugging you, his face pressed against the crook of your neck, hiding his masked face.

you had the delight of hearing the muffled heavy breathing and the small grunts leaving his lips.

your arms moved and you gripped his shoulders, digging your nails into his uniform.

your moans were soft, choked, trying to stay quiet.

though your office was private, the halls weren’t. if you weren’t quiet you risked getting caught which would put you and sal in a bad situation.

sal grunted, his hands slipping down to your lower stomach.

one of his cuffed hands pressed against where your womb would be, while the other slipped between your folds.

the pressure of one of his hands pressing against your stomach combined with the feeling of your clit being pressed on made you let out a broke moan.

“shhhh,” sal reminded you, his face still nuzzled on your neck.

you bit your bottom lip and nodded your head, desperate trying to keep your composure.

sal’s finger pressed on your perked clit, slowly rubbing it gently, a heat began to spread on your lower stomach, your hips unknowingly grinding up to meet his hand.

his experience surprised you — that and the fact he wasn’t fucking you in an uncomfortably rough manner like would expect from an inmate.

your eyes shut and your eyebrows furrowed.

“s—sal—“ you gasped out, your nails still griping his uniform.

he hummed, letting you know he was listening. “feel good?” he muttered, pressing his hips against yours firmly.

you nodded your head, “yes—“ you agreed desperately.

your legs wrapped around his hips, keeping him close to you. sal’s fingers rubbed slow circles on your clit, he was driving you insane.

the noises of skin slapping and the wet squelches of your cunt sucking his cock back in were present under the moans and whines that left your lips.

sal’s head was fuzzy again, he hadn’t been able to fuck someone in what felt like forever now, so this felt like a godsend.

the way your walls hugged his cock was too good, spongey and warm.

as he angled his hips, his thrusts increased a bit of speed, with the angle he was able to press against a gummy part inside you.

he felt as your back arched and your grip tightened — but before you could cry out in pleasure his he pulled back and moved his hands to cover your mouth forcefully.

he was hyper aware on the fact they were walking on thin ice, and he couldn’t risk getting caught and putting your job in jeopardy.

you stared up a sal with lidded eyes, your eyebrows furrowing upwards and your eyes blinking slowly as they

sal’s cock was still buried deep inside you, he stared down at you, his blue eyes seeming to shine under the light. he let out a breath and then pulled back again and shoved his cock inside you again. you let out a muffled whine and slipped your hand down to your clit, you toyed with your nub hastily as your legs shook in anticipation.

sal’s body was hot, his skin was coated with a thin layer of sweat, his cock was tense and heavy.

he wanted to cum so bad, but he wanted to wait for you.

luckily, it didn’t take long as your fingers toyed with your clit, your hips rolling up to meet his thrusts, after feeling your walls flutter around his shaft, he knew you were close.

his hands stayed covering your mouth when you came.

your back arched and your legs trembled, your hips rolled up, riding out your orgasm.

sal was grateful you came quickly, because he couldn’t keep edging himself any longer.

in a hazy moment he leaned back down, moving his hands from your mouth so he could land his final few thrusts properly.

he put his weight behind his thrusts, his body pressing against yours as his hips slammed against yours.

when he came, a muffled groan left his lips.

your eyes were practically rolled back, a shaky sigh leaving your lips when you felt sal pump his cum inside you. he coated your walls with his thick, milky cum before letting his body rest on top of you.

his face moved down to nuzzle your chest, you were the closest thing he’s had to comfort in so long, he just wanted to cherish it — just a bit more.

you let him rest on your chest, your arms moving to wrap around him, you held him firmly. hugging him.

sal nuzzled against you and sighed, he let his eyes slip shut for a moment before your fingers tangled themselves in his blue locks.

“i don’t think you’re a murderer, sal.” you whispered.

sal’s eyes opened, “you’re the only one.” he replied, pulling away from your touch, he slipped his softening cock out of your cunt and hastily stuffed it back in his pants.

you sat up on the table and started to re-button your shirt, “all i’m saying is the truth, doctor.” he added, looking at you through his prosthetic.

you slipped off the table and readjusted your panties before fixing your skirt.

“i know.” you nodded, fixing your hair too.

he looked at you, “go to the apartments..the treehouse. you’ll see.” he said before plopping back down on his chair.

adjusting your glasses you let out a hum.

“i’ll see you next week, mr. fisher.”

tags !! @chaobun @dollface6666 @airenaa @instanttacocoloreggs @rottindecay @sebastitties @sinisteryanderescribe @mrzombielover

GOD HE LOOKS SOOO GOOD I LOVE MY HISABND

Nikki Sixx gifs 😫

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓! ...

𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐌𝐀𝐍 - 𝐀𝐓𝐒𝐕 !

𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒! :

Hobie Brown!

𝐅𝐈𝐂𝐒! :

Hobie Brown x Sick!reader

A Little Of Cheering Up From Hobie Brown !

𝐉𝐔𝐉𝐔𝐓𝐒𝐔 𝐊𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐍 !

𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐁𝐁𝐋𝐄𝐒! :

JJK MEN- and their love languages!

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐖 !

Vampire!Eric Draven x Reader

! :

Guys I’m so in love with this series u DONT understand.

Knee Socks

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader

Word count: 4.5k

Tags: Use of Y/N sparingly, no specific physical description of the reader, bullying, blood, violence, food mentions, fluff.

Main Masterlist

Thread the Needle Masterlist

CHAPTER 3 >>> CHAPTER 4

Hobie converses with his friends, casually leaning on the playground's chain link fence, he's only eleven, that awkward stage where he thinks he's too old to use the slide, but still too young to be taken seriously by the older kids. He's too tall to be just eleven, almost a foot taller than his classmates, always mistaken for someone older, he takes it in stride, becoming his year's resident protector from would be bullies. His sheer height alone makes them stop in their tracks, not to mention his perseverance when the bully decides to fight Hobie, even if they're taller or bigger than him, he doesn't back down despite his lanky form and sometimes nerdy personality, wiping at his bleeding nose, he stands up, knuckles at the ready.

This alone makes Hobie an absolute legend in the playground. He doesn't care about that though, he just does what he thinks is right, and that's protecting those who cannot defend themselves.

The children playing stops in their tracks when a loud shriek rings out, ears perking at the difference of the sound from a happy playing yell. This one sounded like they were in pain, Hobie stomps towards the sound, the crowd parting for him.

He sees a bigger kid holding a smaller one by his ear, he recognizes the bully from his year, the smaller one seems like a year younger than him. The crowd around them gets bigger, some kids would be hollering for a fight, some could only watch. Before Hobie could run up to them, a flash of something pink hits the bully right on his forehead, causing him to let go, crouching and holding the bleeding cut it left behind.

You fearlessly strut up to him, screaming your tiny head off, "fuck off, Terrence!" You pick up the pink sketchbook from the ground, threatening to throw it again.

Hobie's eyes widened at your choice of word, not used to hearing it in the playground, he smirks at your bravery, especially that you're five times smaller than the bully. He watches as you shield the smaller kid from Terrence, book at the ready.

You look over your shoulder to look back at the younger kid on the ground, clutching at the shell of his ear, tears falling on his rosy cheeks. "You okay, Danny?"

With you distracted, Terrence finds the opportunity to grab you by the ankle, losing your balance and swiftly falling on your back, you let out a small pained sound. Hobie had enough of being a bystander, he runs up to the bully, punching him square in his face. Terrence doesn't back down, tackling Hobie, they both fall on the harsh gravel, Hobie shields his face from the oncoming punches while Terrence keeps aiming at his face.

You stand up, no time to dust yourself off, you yell a battle cry, flinging yourself on the bully's back, trying to get him off Hobie. Your small fists thump helplessly on the bigger kid's back. Suddenly the crowd parts, a couple of winded teachers arrive, one yanks you off Terrence, while the other stops him from punching Hobie. They hold you both back, like a couple of kittens trying to claw and scratch at each other.

"Enough!" One of the teachers yells out, Hobie sits up, a cut on his lip. Eyes watching as you don't let up from trying to kick Terrence's ass.

—

You sit on one of the school clinic's cot, an ice pack on your head, the condensation slides over your face, landing on the paper of your mangled sketchbook.

"Little shit" you murmur out, wiping at the water on your precious notebook.

The curtains separating the beds flings open, you jump from the sound of metal.

"Y'know you could get in trouble for that" Hobie looks at you, a similar ice pack over his cheek. He sits criss crossed on the bed, blanket pooling around him.

"You would know, of course" the previous anger still lingers, your usual shyness gone from your system.

"So you've heard of me?" He raises his brow, hissing when he moves it.

"Who hasn't heard of you? Here" you toss your ice pack over to his cot, "you look like you need it more" Hobie fumbles a bit before he finally catches it. He looks back at you, your face scrunched up in anger, brows knitted together, you look at the pink notebook like it'll spontaneously combust right in front of you.

"You look like Gromit, when you're mad" he brings your previous ice pack to his brow, the other held up to his cheek. "Y'know when he scrunches his face" you look at him angrily "like that!" He points out.

"Hey! You want a piece of me too?" It sounded much braver in your head, but with the fading adrenaline and anger, your shyness peeks back in, making your sentence sound meek.

Hobie holds up his hands, dropping the ice packs on the bed "nah, I can't fight you"

"Why? Just because I'm a girl?"

"Nope, I saw what you did to big Terry, thought you gave him brain damage" he pokes his temples. "I don't want that notebook flying at me, especially with that aim of yours"

"Fucker already has brain damage" you say softly, your shyness definitely creeping in, but you're still angry enough to swear.

"Where'd you learn to curse like that? You don't look like someone who swears"

"The telly" you shrug.

"That shit ain't good for you"

"You sound like an adult," you scrunch your nose "they always tell me I swear a lot when I'm mad. You swear too, y'know"

"I'm allowed" Hobie leans back, grinning.

"How are you allowed?" you ask, genuinely curious. Why is he allowed and you're not?

"I'm older" he says matter-of-fact.

"You're only a year older than me" you scoff, wincing when a sharp pain hits the back of your head.

Hobie hops down from the bed, quickly grabbing the ice packs. He moves towards you, sitting down, your sketchbook in the middle between you. He hands you the ice pack back, you give him a small thanks, hissing when the cold hits your skin.

"You alright? D'you want me to get the nurse?" He asks you as if he wasn't injured himself, looking worse than you.

"I'm fine, you look worse than me though"

"You draw?" Hobie doesn't acknowledge your last comment. He tries to take a peek at the pages, you clamp the book shut with lightning speed.

"I'm not showing you my sketchbook"

"Why not?"

"It's private! And I don't know you"

"Well, name's Hobie Brown" he extends his hand towards you "and you areee? Then you tell me your name, That's how this usually goes"

You narrow your eyes, "I know who you are" slapping his hand away but you tell him your name anyway, trying to be the polite one "Y/N, it's Y/N Y/L/N"

"Now we know each other, now can I?" His hand hovers over your notebook. "Damn, this looks like it's been trampled"

"Fucking Terrence" you seethe, sliding the book over to him. "Here"

"Fucking Terrence" Hobie smiles as he flips through your sketches.

—

Your mind goes back to the present when your familiar mug lands on your messy table, the content sloshes a bit to the sides.

"Careful!" You hold the mug, stopping its motion.

"Shit, sorry. You looked like Gromit there for a second" he chuckles, sitting down on your bed, a piece of biscuit in his mouth, the springs squeaking under his weight.

"Augh, you trying to bring back that nickname?" You take a sip, the warmth of the tea relaxes the aching muscles of your hand.

"It's always been there, Gromit" he lays down, swallowing the cookie, his chucks still on his feet.

You stand up immediately, cringing when his soles graze your bedsheets, grabbing his shoes off your bed "shoes off!" You struggle as Hobie watches on with a smirk "fuckin' take it off!"

"You're mad mad" he sits up, unlacing his shoes.

You put your hands on your hips, socked feet tapping impatiently. Hobie flings his shoes off, looking smugly at your annoyed face. He lays down, arms behind his head.

You narrow your eyes at him "awwe, are you tired?" You asked sarcastically.

"Yes, talking to you the entire day is tiring"

"You're not the one designing this thing" you gesture towards your table that's littered with crumpled papers, various designs pinned on your corkboard. Your hand cramps at the thought of drawing another line.

"Giving my opinion is tiring, why don't you rest for a bit, you're obviously knackered" he taps the space beside him. It wouldn't be the first time you've shared a bed, it's impossible that you haven't, being that you've been best friends for ten years. But you're still unsure, knowing that when you lie down (especially next to him) you won't get back to work again. But it doesn't mean that your heart doesn't skip a beat whenever you do share a bed, it practically stops in your chest until you two wake up.

Hobie sees your dilemma, knowing you wouldn't be able to work on your designs if you lie down next to him. "Come sit down at least" he finds a middle ground.

You sigh, surrendering, as long as you don't rest your head on your pillow you'll be fine, right? Sitting down, Hobie's legs props you up, preventing you from laying down completely.

You hum, leaning your entire weight over his legs, you can feel the rough material of his jeans on your back, your jumper doesn't provide much barrier from his warmth.

"Don't fall asleep" Hobie pokes your arm.

"Hard to when your bony legs are stabbing my back"

He moves his legs back, you fall halfway, head almost landing on his knees. You smack his arm playfully. Hobie predicts that you'll slap his chest next, he moves his arm shield himself. Lo and behold, that's where you hit him next.

"Fuck you, Wallace" despite your swearing, you grin widely, Hobie laughs at his old nickname, he keeps dodging your attacks, Hobie parries your hand, stopping it mid air. He holds your wrists in front of him, warm fingers wrap bracelets around them.

He laughs victoriously "who you callin' Wallace? Do I look like I'm bald?"

You try to get his grip off your wrist, pulling, but his grip is too strong–it doesn't hurt, it's the opposite actually, his grip on you provides comfort and stability. A laugh escapes you "you smile like him" he says it with you, copying your voice mockingly, already knowing that you'll say those exact words.

You roll your eyes, trying and failing to take your hands back, Hobie pulls you in, making you lean over his chest, your heart immediately jumping at the close proximity of his face from yours. Hobie didn't think this through enough, now he doesn't know what to do next. You both pause on your play fighting.

He watches your reaction, your lips slightly parted, pupils blown out. You do the same, cataloging every line on his face, eyes finding the familiar color of his iris, the late afternoon sun gleaming on his lip piercing. You quickly move your eyes back to his, realizing you've been staring at his lips, you swallow down your fear. You lay on top of him, frozen.

You exhale, breath fanning his face, your pulse thumping hard against Hobie's hand. He loosens his grip on your wrists, giving you time to pull away, but you don't so he slides his hands from your wrists over to your hands, fingers stopping at your clammy palms.

Hobie raises his head slowly to meet yours, his heart uncharacteristically beating hard on his chest. He realizes that his heart only acts this way around you. He can feel the dam straining against the overflowing water.

Knock

The sound breaks you both out of your daze, pushing away from each other, you avoid Hobie's gaze. While he looks at you longingly, chest heaving at what almost transpired.

Knock

You try to act nonchalantly, clearing your throat "yeah?"

"It's almost six! Get your visitor out" the dorm's RA yells out like a warden.

"Yeah, okay!" You give her a thumbs up, as if she can see you through the door. Hobie notices your awkwardness, taking it upon himself to break the awkward feeling.

"She doesn't have x-ray vision" He stops himself from touching your arm, hand landing back to his side.

You scoff, heat slowly leaving your cheeks "c'mon time to go home" you stand up, refraining from tapping his chest.

"We're not done yet" he sits up by his elbows, eyes following you gathering his stuff like a one night stand trying to get him out of your place.

You sigh "I don't think we can finish this today, Hobs" you say defeatedly "I mean look" you take a pinned sketch, showing it to Hobie. You both act like nothing happened, used to the almosts.

He looks at your sketch of him, drawn like a runway model, your design looks good, for him at least. Already sure whatever you make for him will be amazing. But judging from your pout he guesses it's not good enough for you.

"It looks good" he reassures you, "what's wrong with it?"

You drop his shoes back on the floor, stepping over it to sit back down on the bed. You hold the paper gingerly, noting every single line you've drawn. "There's something missing, it– I don't know" you groan.

"Make me understand then, they all look good enough for me" he gestures at your designs on the corkboard "I like the one with red on it"

"They all have a touch of red" you roll your eyes, "I don't know, they just– they have more Hobie in them, than of me y'know?"

He nods "yeah, I can see it, you need more bits of you in it"

"Mm-hmm, it's supposed to be a perfect blend of us both" you cross the barrier that you've put up between him, leaning your head on his chest.

"Yeah, it's like if we had a kid and they ended up lookin' like a clone of me" he looks at you teasingly, a smirk curling on his lips.

"Again, weird analogy, Hobs" you huff out.

He chuckles "D'you wanna rest or continue this at my place?" Hobie covers the top of your head with his palm, blanketing your scalp in his warmth.

Thinking for a second, you want to rest, but on the other hand, you need to keep working, you never know when both of your schedules will clear up, this is one of those rare times.

The loud knock echoes again, "your place, then" you look at him, cheek laying on his chest, hearing how his heart beats against your ear.

Hobie smiles, more than happy to spend more time with you.

—

You stop by a convenience store on the way to his place. The harsh white lights make you squint until your eyes adjust. Hobie grabs a basket, handing it to you.

"Such a gentleman" sarcasm dripping on your lips.

He walks backwards, winking at you, hands in his jean pockets. Hobie beelines for the frozen aisle, his chucks sliding against the tiled floor.

You sigh, already knowing what he'll grab. You take a couple of crisps, Hobie's favourite and yours. You bend down to grab a packet of biscuits, hearing a tinkling sound on your left, your eyebrows knit in confusion at the peeking green sock puppet.

"Hello there" You ask, thinking there's a kid playing around. You stand up, the small basket almost full.

"Hi" the puppet's mouth moves, but Hobie's voice comes out, you laugh at how he tried to hide his voice by making it higher pitched.

"Hobie, where'd you even get that?" You say in between airy laughs. You can't see where he is, Hobie's body is hidden behind a display of oatmeal, but you can clearly see his metal bracelet peeking out from under the puppet.

"Name's not Hobie, it's y/n, and I have a passion for fashion" the puppet's mouth moves dramatically as Hobie speaks.

You giggle at his antics, grabbing the puppet by its 'throat' "ack!" Hobie acts like he's choking. He moves in your line of sight, still making choking noises. The cashier looks at you weirdly, releasing your hand from the puppet.

You keep laughing, Hobie's smiles victoriously, getting the desired reaction from you. You clutch your hand over your stomach, heaving from laughing.

"You done?" Hobie is still speaking through the puppet, his throat aching from making his voice higher.

"Yep, you can stop making that voice" you smile, playing with the little bell strapped on the puppet, it rings softly at your touch.

"Thank fuck," Hobie clears his throat, speaking in his normal deep voice "they're selling these over there" he points to his right, using the puppet to point at it.

You see the bright display of different sock puppets, the bold letters reading 'all proceeds go to the children's hospital'

"It's cute, what even is it?"

Hobie moves the puppet from side to side, little yellow spikes on its head, a long tongue lolling on the side of its mouth. "I think it's supposed to be a dinosaur"

"Looks like it, but its tongue is too long to be a dinosaur, maybe it's a lizard?" You look at Hobie questioningly.

"Don't look at me, I don't know either" he shrugs.

"Whatever it is let's take it, he's kind of adorable, in a weird looking way" you take it from his hand, putting it inside your basket.

"Just like you" Hobie quips.

"Funny" you poke his chest. "You got the frozen pizza?"

"Nah, got distracted" Hobie walks towards the freezers, you follow closely behind, he flings the door open. You peek under his raised arm resting on the freezer door, looking at your choices.

"Four cheeses? Or overload?" You ask.

"You want me to shit myself?"

You giggle "right, lactose intolerant, forgot for a sec, overload it is. Thought you have lactaid?"

Hobie takes the frozen pizza box, bringing it to your cheeks, you jump away when the cold box hits your skin. "I ran out of it"

"Ass" you scoff, wiping away the condensation.

He laughs from his belly, putting the box inside the basket. Hobie grabs the heavy basket from you, happily giving it to him. He makes his way towards the cashier, you quickly grab a couple of canned soda from the freezer, catching up to Hobie.

The cashier gives you an annoyed look, probably because of the noises you two made. You look at him apologetically as he scans the items.

—

You arrive at his place, slightly shivering from the cold air that pricked you while in the back of Hobie's motorcycle. He gets off first, helping you with a steady hand.

"Remind me to bring a proper jacket next time we ride this late. Christ alive it's bloody freezing" you rub your arms, trying to get warm, your thin jacket isn't helping much to shield you from the cold.

Hobie takes off his leather jacket despite being only a few feet away from his place, he drapes it on you since your hands are full with the plastic bag of food. He holds your hands together breathing hot air into it, your heart swells at the small act.

"Why didn't you tell me you were cold? I could've stopped for a bit and handed you my jacket, you idiot" he grumbles out, still rubbing your hands warm.

"It was a short ride, Hobs. Besides we're here already you don't need to do this"

"Inside isn't any better, radiator's fucked since yesterday" he brings your hands to his mouth, blowing more warm air into your cold hands.

"Just my luck" your breathing stutters in your throat when Hobie looks at you through his lashes, lips dangerously close to your hands. "Let's just go inside, I'm hungry" you pull your hands away, already missing his warmth. Hobie looks at you like you grew a second head.

"Oven still works, right?" You clear your throat.

Hobie takes out his keys, opening the door for you "yeah, gas still works" he sniffs, the cold finally bothering him.

Entering the small house, you can hear the loud sound of the television, bright against the darkness of the modest living room. Ned and James play couch co-op of golden eye. James sees you standing awkwardly by the doorway, not paying attention to the screen, his character dies, making Ned annoyed.

"Come on, bruv! We can't pass this level with you dying every bloody minute" Ned follows James' stare, ending with you standing stiffly in front of the door, too awkward to walk in front of the telly, not wanting to disturb them. Hobie's behind you fumbling with the lock.

"Hi, sorry to drop in" you smile shyly.

Ned slaps the back of James' head "really? You got distracted?" He whisper-shouts, James jumps slightly in his seat, Ned quickly moves his neck to look at you, "It's alright, y/n! Make yourself at home"

"Thanks" you say, smiling sweetly.

"Oi, it's rude to stare" Hobie finally locks the rusty bolt, eyes staring at James.

" 'm not," he defends himself, thick Manchester accent rearing its head. "I was lookin' at the bag, is that pizza?" He acts interested in the contents of your bag.

Hobie side eyes Ned, having a non verbal conversation with him.

"I think there's enough for us four, where's Yuri? I still haven't thanked her for her help" you say.

"She's with her friends," Ned says.

Nodding, you walk towards the kitchen, Hobie not too far behind. "Have you talked to the landlord about the broken radiator, Hobs?"

"Don't need to, we're moving out anyway" Hobie replies nonchalantly, like it's old news to you.

"What?" You drop the plastic bag a little too hard on the counter. "What do you mean you're moving out? Where are you moving?" Fear creeps up to you.

"All of us are moving, actually" James pipes up from the couch, Ned elbows for him to shut up.

Hobie grabs a flyer from the fridge door, showing it to you. "Battle of the bands, our last show before we disband"

"You're gonna disband too?!" You look at Ned sitting on the couch, watching the interaction unfold. He replies for Hobie, seeing he might need some help explaining it to you.

"Sorry y/n, it's true. James and Yuri are off to uni, and I'm moving back to Richmond"

You look at Hobie sadly, knowing he'll be left behind by one of his oldest friends. You're well aware that Hobie doesn't like sticking to one band, moving on to a different team every few years, this doesn't surprise you, but Ned has been one of the few constants in his band, always his chosen bassist, and his oldest friend next to you.

Ned and James start their game again, giving you as much privacy as the small space can provide, trying to not listen to your obvious private conversation, they wish you two could just talk it out inside Hobie's room instead. Or better yet, just kiss about it, saving you both the energy.

Looking up at Hobie, eyes slightly watering at the thought of him being left behind, you'd never even thought of doing that to him. Of course you know he can handle himself, but you can't bear imagining him alone. Or maybe it's because you can't imagine going through life without him, turning out he'll be fine on his own without you. And you're the one who's projecting your fears towards Hobie.

Your lives have been intertwined since childhood, celebrating wins together, laughing and crying at the good and bad. You've been through almost everything together, it's hard to imagine your life before you met him, more so after your lives untangle from each other.

"When's the last gig?" You try to not let your emotions get to you, but your smile doesn't reach your eyes. Hobie sees through your charade, he holds your hand subtly, thumb rubbing circles over your palm.

"It'll be fine, love" I'll be fine, he wanted to say, but he swallows it down, tossing it over to the pile of all the unsaid words he wanted to say to you. "We've been planning it for awhile, just need to find a place and I'm good to go"

"You haven't found a place yet?" completely forgetting there are other people in the room with you, melting into his touch.

"Not yet, y'know me, always putting things off" he tangles his fingers through yours. "Once we win, I'll get enough to rent a place"

"I'll help you find a place" you squeeze his hand, he squeezes back three times.

"You givin' it for free? No need for me to punch out a hole in our card?" He teases you.

You roll your eyes "Don't push it, Hobart. But yes, you don't need to use our card for it" you joke, you would've helped him anyways, card or no card.

"Good, thanks Gromit" he smiles, reluctantly untangling your fingers from his. Hobie hands you the flyer, moving towards the counter to take out the food. With that your previous conversation ends, but your sadness and anxiety for what the future holds still lingers. Everything seems to change too fast, you don't think you're ready for any of it.

You smile softly at the nickname. Reading the contents of the advert– Battle of the bands at Oscorp Museum! your eyes widening when you gloss over the date on it. "Hobie, this concert is happening the day before our show"

"And? It's not on the same day" he takes out the puppet from the plastic.

"Yeah, but won't you be too..tired?" You ask.

Hobie huffs, taking the puppet off the counter, slipping it on your hand, you raise a brow at him "say what you really mean by 'tired' use the puppet to help" he crosses his arms over his chest.

You narrow your eyes, playing along, raising your arm halfway. You speak through the puppet, trying to talk with your mouth closed "won't you be too hungover?"

"There we go!" He claps "Thank you, y/n for the honesty"

"That wasn't me, that was the puppet"

"We have a real ventriloquist here, huh" Hobie takes out the frozen pizza from the box, slipping it inside the oven, he shuts the oven door closed "There won't be any alcohol in the venue, there's nothing to fucking drink"

"Sure" you say, still speaking through the puppet, rolling its head with your hand movements.

James whispers to Ned "they were all sweet to each other a second ago, now they're fighting"

"Reminds you of your parents huh?" Ned whispers back.

"Actually yeah, good eye"

Ned looks at him confused "not a compliment, bruv"

"Huh?"

"Nothin' what's up with the creepy puppet?"

Meanwhile, you continue to bicker with Hobie, the cold not helping with your attitude "You know I'm thinking of naming him Terrence, he looks like a Terry, right?" You make the puppet look at you, making it nod.

"Fuck off, after that Terry?"

"Yeah, we can tell exactly what we mean through Terry then we can both put the blame on him" you make the puppet nervously look at both of you.

"Fuckin' Terrence" Hobie remembers the bully.

"Exactly! Fuckin' Terrence" you both laugh, you don't even remember why you were fighting in the first place.

A/N: Thank you for reading! As always likes and reblogs are appreciated ❤️

*pictures above are from pinterest*