Drabble-esque
I have writer's block SO BADLY and this came to me when I woke up this morning. So for those who are watching for it, this isn't my VAMpire AU :(
Triple drabble (Word count: 301)
Implied dark themes, mention of tasteless sexual acts.
This is my take of what happened to Ville in October.
It’s a near flawless plan. I’m going to make you love me again.
Did you just get bored? Am I not good enough for you anymore? A week ago you stopped returning my calls, stopped waiting for me backstage.
I’m not that easy to get rid of.
You’re the reason I’m here in this sketchy alley, exchanging money with grimy, demanding hands. Closing it in my hand, I quietly bring the tiny bottle to my lips.
You’re the reason I’m in this crowd, getting jostled around and pushed up against the girls next to me. A dark hood over my head obscures my face to the fans…and to you. When your piercing green eyes ghost on mine for a split second, the connection isn’t made. I haven’t stood at a show in years, and it’s kind of brought me back; to before fame, before fortune. Before you. It’s your last song and already people are screaming for an encore, one you bashfully turn down. You’re an expert at doing that, turning people down without hurting their feelings. Or so you think. You and Linde and everyone else are gone off the stage and people start filing out of the dank Minneapolis club. I follow them, attempt to blend. Right about now, I’d be slapping each of you on the back and handing each of you a cold beer. But my eyes would be trained on you and you alone. And when yours caught mine we would silently make our leave to the tour bus and seconds later our clothes would be in haphazard piles on the floor, your lips around my cock. I have to blink back tears and grit my teeth thinking of you. But tonight, tonight you’ll love me again. I promise.
AN: It was supposed to be longer but I thought this kind of suited it. If it bombed, let me know.
Triple drabble (Word count: 301)
Implied dark themes, mention of tasteless sexual acts.
This is my take of what happened to Ville in October.
It’s a near flawless plan. I’m going to make you love me again.
Did you just get bored? Am I not good enough for you anymore? A week ago you stopped returning my calls, stopped waiting for me backstage.
I’m not that easy to get rid of.
You’re the reason I’m here in this sketchy alley, exchanging money with grimy, demanding hands. Closing it in my hand, I quietly bring the tiny bottle to my lips.
You’re the reason I’m in this crowd, getting jostled around and pushed up against the girls next to me. A dark hood over my head obscures my face to the fans…and to you. When your piercing green eyes ghost on mine for a split second, the connection isn’t made. I haven’t stood at a show in years, and it’s kind of brought me back; to before fame, before fortune. Before you. It’s your last song and already people are screaming for an encore, one you bashfully turn down. You’re an expert at doing that, turning people down without hurting their feelings. Or so you think. You and Linde and everyone else are gone off the stage and people start filing out of the dank Minneapolis club. I follow them, attempt to blend. Right about now, I’d be slapping each of you on the back and handing each of you a cold beer. But my eyes would be trained on you and you alone. And when yours caught mine we would silently make our leave to the tour bus and seconds later our clothes would be in haphazard piles on the floor, your lips around my cock. I have to blink back tears and grit my teeth thinking of you. But tonight, tonight you’ll love me again. I promise.
AN: It was supposed to be longer but I thought this kind of suited it. If it bombed, let me know.