Nothing But Thieves Imagines (Mature Content)

Just A Kid - Conor

This is another edit job from a previous fic...if you read all my stuff you'll recognize it. Enjoy ;)

MATURE SEXUAL CONTENT 18+ ONLY
--

She never failed to take my breath away.

Christ, what a cliche. "Take my breath away." Sounds like a terrible 80's pop ballad. Shoot me if we ever put that in a song.

But that's what she did. Fucking forced the air right out my lungs every time she entered a room. Made my throat clench and turned me straight back into a stumbling teenager with no right to be within two meters of her.

She wasn't just fit. Sure, her body was unreal, with all those curves, and I'd be lying if I said I hadn't dreamed about fucking her senseless up against a wall. But that's just because I'm a horny ass sometimes.

No, she was more than that. That wild blonde hair thrown up in some ponytail or bun. The clothes she wore - classy, simple, never showing much of her bronzed skin. Those huge brown eyes, barely rimmed, standing out among a sea of painted faces. Her expressive little lips, usually naked, that creased so easily into a laugh or a smirk. In my eyes, she was simply a goddess.

I met her two years ago, at the Brits. I was on edge anyway - those awards shows, so much pomp and glitz, they're just not for me. She was there with her band. I took one look at her and went speechless.

Fortunately Dom smoothed it. He told her I had red-carpet nerves and did most of the talking. She seemed amused, and whispered in that thick Scottish accent, "don't worry, just a few hours more, you'll do great," before she flashed me a smile and moved on.

The next day I grilled Dom about her. He scoffed.

"Mate, don't get ideas. She's with Jeremy Tronson. Everybody knows that."

"Well he can fucking do one," I spat, angry I hadn't known about her and the famous drummer. Dom just laughed.

I sighed. "Nah, he's a lovely boy. Hey, how old you think she is?"

Dom rolled his eyes. "Come off it, man."

Later I googled her and got a shock. She definitely didn't look her age. Fuck, she looked better than most girls my age, and she was ten times more interesting. Not that it mattered, I reminded myself. I was no cuckold.

We ran into her now and again in the usual circuit. Once I could actually form a sentence around her she always greeted me like an old friend. I bet I could recount every place she ever touched me -- a palm on my forearm, her fingertips grazing my back, a light hug to say goodbye. All warm, all affectionate, all platonic.

Eventually it was all over the news that she and Tronson had split. I thought long and hard about messaging her. Finally I DMed her with a goofy selfie.

Sorry to hear the news. But hope you get some good songs out of it, yeah?

I didn't hear from her for a day or so. I thought I'd fucked it up. But finally she replied.

Thanks, mate. Anything for the good of a song, aye? Hope to see you soon <3

I must have read that message back a hundred times, smiling each time.

I knew she'd be at TRNSMT, and all day the lads teased me mercilessly while I ducked around corners, trying to catch a glimpse of her. Our headline set was fucking amazing, if I do say so myself. So I was already revved up when she turned up at our after-party, chill and sexy in a white t-shirt and jeans.

We talked quite a bit over beers, geeking out about writing songs, the festival, fronting a band, everything. News had spread fast about her being single, and I had to watch with gritted teeth as guy after guy hit on her -- unsuccessfully, I might add.