the vapors

tea witch.

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Boots || l.h.

WC: 1.2K+

A/N: Okay so this was supposed to be a blurb and I kind of got carried away with it. I’m a bit rusty in my writing skills so I’m sorry if there’s a lot of errors. I hope you like it! Also thank you @starwarsmashton for helping me with the ending!

Masterlist

“They hate me.”

That’s the first think Luke says when he stumbles through your hotel room door at two in the morning. You had left the venue before the boys had, having been exhausted from a day full of flying. When you’d left things were good, the boys were on their post-concert high and showed no signs of slowing down.

But this wasn’t the same Luke that you’d left a few hours ago. This Luke wasn’t beaming with pride, eyes glistening in disbelief. No, this Luke was sullen, his lips jutting out in a perfect pout.

“What did the boys do?”

Luke shakes his head. He yanks of his shirt letting it fall to the floor before he roughly kicks off his new, sparkly boots he’d received yesterday. The boots make contact with the wall in a thud causing you to jump from your spot in bed. You watch as he shuffles his way out of his pants before collapsing on the bed next to you.

“The fans hate me,” Luke mumbles, shoving his face into the white sheets of the mattress.

“You’re fans don’t hate you!” You say, moving closer to him. Once your situated, you lift Luke’s head so that its resting in your lap. Your fingers get straight to work combing through his matted curls.

“They do.” He closes his tightly, wrinkles forming at the corner of his eyes. He huffs before opening his eyes. “They’re always making fun of me. I can’t ever do anything right.”

“Your fans love you, bubs.”

“They called my shoes stupid today. Said I’m trying to be like Harry Styles or something.”

“You’re way better than Harry is,” you tease, kissing his forehead. “They’re just mad they don’t have pretty boots like yours.”

“It’s not just the boots, they’re always making fun of me for something. I can’t do anything right in their eyes.”

“Hey, don’t say that. Your fans love you Lu. Remember that girl last week who burst into tears at the coffee shop because she was so happy to see you? Or what about that one mom who thanked you for saving her daughter’s life? Or the boy who said he bought his first guitar because of you? They all love you, regardless of what your shoe choices are.”

“Yeah well the rest of my fans think I’m a joke.”

“Luke!” you scold, irritated that he’s letting something so small get to him.

“I’m going to bed,” he grumbles, throwing the blanket over his head before turning his back towards you.

You wait until his snores filter into the room before grabbing your phone from the nightstand. You quickly scroll through the contacts on your phone, typing out a quick message before sending it to the only three people you know can help make this better.

“I’m going to make this better,” you whisper before drifting off to sleep.


When Luke wakes up the next morning the room is empty. The mattress to his right is cold indicating you had left long before he had woken up. Blinking, he sits up stretching before getting up to retrieve his phone from the pockets of his jeans. 

No texts. No missed calls. Nothing.

Sighing, he begins collecting his things from the floor. Somehow he has slept in, leaving him only twenty minutes until he has to report to the tour bus. Luke throws things in his suitcase haphazardly before grabbing what he thinks is a clean shirt, pulling on the pants from last night on too. He’s almost done when he spots the boots sitting upright by the door — a sign that you had placed them there before you snuck out this morning.

Luke doesn’t want to wear them out but he doesn’t want to dig through his suitcase for his flip flops. Ultimately, he pulls the glittery shoes over his feet, zipping them up in the process. With one last check, he grabs his suitcase letting the door slam behind him.

By the time Luke reaches the bus loading spot, he’s been stopped twice for pictures with fans. Fans, whom he’s pretty sure had been talking shit about him on twitter last night but he tries not to be rude. He isn’t rude, instead he takes a rushed picture with them before running off to the bus.

“There’s our sleeping beauty,” Michael teases when Luke rounds the corner.

Luke rolls his eyes, a frown permanently etched on his lips. It’s only when he spots you lingering behind Ashton that he perks up a bit. He tosses his bag into the compartments below before walking over to you. “M’sorry about last night,” he says. He leans his head down to hide his face in the crook of your neck like he always does when he’s done something he’s ashamed of but it doesn’t quite get there, instead his eyes glance down to your feet. “What are those?” he asks, biting his lip to keep from smiling.

“Oh you like them?” you ask, twirling your foot so he can admire the purple, glittery boots covering your feet. “Your’s just looked so good last night that this morning I decided to go find my own pair. I can’t have my boyfriend out shining me, now can I?”

“They’re pretty.”

“I see how it is,” Michael scoffs, walking over to where the two of you stand. “You compliment your girlfriend’s new shoes but you ignore all of our upgraded shoe choices.”

“What are you talking ab—“ Luke starts, but stops when he realized that Michael, Calum, and Ashton all have on their own variation of Luke’s boots. Michael has black ones that glisten every time he moves. Ashton’s are a maroon color that stand out against the grey of his sweatpants — that are bunched at his ankles, not fitting into the boots otherwise. And then there’s Calum’s shoe, a vibrant and glittery gold pair that he wears with a smile. “You guys are the worst,” he groans, this time hiding his face in the crook of your neck.

“You couldn’t be the only one who gets to have stylish shoes,” Ashton says.

“They’re quite comfortable too,” Calum adds.

Calum’s comment causes Luke to laugh. Of course, they’re not comfortable; in fact, they’re one of the most uncomfortable shoes he’s ever worn. Every time he wants to complain about them he thinks about the thousands of girls who are expected to wear shoes like that on a daily basis forcing him to suck it up. 

“Really Cal, you had to get gold ones?” Luke teases.

“I have to remind the crowd who the golden boy is somehow,” Calum jokes before he’s pulling Luke into a hug. The rest of the boys and you joining him.


“I know you set this all up,” Luke whispers, later that night when you and him are tucked away in his buck. Luke doesn’t know how to properly thank you for what you’ve done, he isn’t sure there is a way. After all, you managed to get all three boys to go on stage with glittery boots without any of them complain about it. “Thank you.”

“Anything for you rockstar,” you smile, pecking his cheek. 

anonymous asked:

I must say I am incredibly disappointed in your company. I have yet to receive a body pillow that resembles Corin's likeness for me to hold and softly hump while I sleep.

What? Are you serious? You haven’t gotten yours yet? Oh, that makes me ill. I have to go down to the Division of Comfort and RAISE FUCKING HELL because you don’t have your Corin likeness body pillow. How are you alive right now? What have you been doing without this? It’s like hearing that someone hasn’t been on the Internet before. I think… I just swallowed some vomit. I’m… I’m gonna cry. You poor soul. Oh, I need to lay down.