Classic rock one shots and imagines [requests closed]

Bret Michaels #1

This is the first chapter of a BTS fan fic I wrote. It's super short, but really good. Hope you enjoy :)

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"Fuck me, not you again." The guard huffed in French when he saw me standing at the door.

I coolly looked up at him out of the corner of my eye. I raised my chin dramatically upward and replied (in French), "Nice to see you, too."

The bouncer's clean-shaven head perfectly reflected the neon club lights that blasted their way to the back door. It wasn't the first time I had run into this prick at an afterparty, and I knew that it certainly wouldn't be the last.

"Look, I don't know how you got into the last one, but these parties aren't for photographers."

"Who said I was taking pictures?"

The man glared at me for a moment with pure disgust oozing out of his eyes. He curled his lip upward before spitting, "Get out of here."

"Woah, woah, woah, woah, now, hold on!" I scrambled to catch the door. I managed to slap my hand onto his and pull the door back open, but not before feeling his hand rip out from underneath my own. "Now, I think we got off on the wrong foot here-"

"Touch me again and you'll get bounced faster than a shitty mattress, Michaels."

"I'm not here to cause trouble, alright!" I paused as the bouncer dramatically wiped my spit from under his eye. "I need work just like you. The only way I can get my work is if I meet people. So, if you'd just let me in, I can carry on with my job, and you can carry on with yours. Capisci?"

The back of the bouncer's hand immediately (and roughly) collided with the broad of my shoulder. I stumbled back in surprise as he stepped out and looked around. With one final glare, he cocked his head inside to allow me entrance to the club.

"Thank you." I huffed, stepping up into the doorway. But once again, I was stopped my the bouncer's meaty hand.

"You cause trouble, and you're mine." He growled, and finally let me pass.

"Yes, sir." I bowed my head and started down the corridor.

Just metres away from where I left Big Baldy, the darkness began to swallow me whole. Apart from the rainbow-coloured strobe lights pulsing in-sync with the heavy, syncopated beat of the music, the only thing drawing me through the long corridor was the sounds of laughter and shouting.

At least they've got somebody working the back door... I thought to myself as I emerged into the main club area. While everyone coming through the front wove their way in and out of security, all I had to do was walk in and decide where to lay camp for the night. Granted, it was never disturbingly easy, but it was never a difficult task either. I wonder why there isn't more security-

"Bret!"

My ears perked up at the sweet voice hollering at me over the music. The beautiful sight of a dark haired California girl propped up on a couch caught my attention, which made a wicked smirk pull at the corner of my mouth. I purposefully made my way to her in three long strides, and bent down to greet her with a quick faire la bise.

"Bella," I purred, and pulled back to watch her scrunch her beautifully sharp nose in joy.

"Where have you been?" She asked.

"Yeah, we haven't seen you in a couple days." A girl next to her added. She looked much younger than the legal French drinking age, but I couldn't identify her face as one model I knew.

Do I know her...? I wondered, but my face did not betray my mind:

"I've been working. You know how it is when you get caught up." I told them and sank down onto the couch next to Bella. As the taste of English washed over the remaining French on my pallete, a feeling of relief eased my pounding head at the quick silence in between songs- of course it wouldn't last.

"Oh, yeah." They nodded.

I cringed slightly at the violent bass blaring from the speakers close by, and looked to the DJ. There was no telling how many months he had worked on this playlist. And as annoying to me as it was, his selection seemed to be paying off. I scanned the room for a moment, squinting through the throngs of VIPs and those who got into the club through connections. The dancing, the social media posting, all of it was happening while his setlist was playing. And even though we wouldn't remember the DJ the next morning, we would remember the joy that music brought us- actually, most of us.

"Where's your sister?" I shouted over the music, trying to ignore the violent mix.

Bella quickly swallowed her swig of sparkling wine with strawberry puree and gestured her flute over to the far corner of the club.

"She's talking to a new girl." The other girl said.

"I think she said her name was Blue." Bella looked up at me.

Blue... I nodded slightly, and looked over to see the girl.

Immediately, I was captivated by her beauty: effortlessly chic and dark; wicked cool, dissolute, and absolutely stunning. Sexy, messy-

"Bret,"

"What?" I snapped my gaze to Bella. Her and the other girl giggled at me, but I couldn't understand why.

"Stop staring." She eventually said. "You'll make it weird, then what?"

I cocked an eyebrow upward, and found my sight slowly drift back over to Blue. Once again, she took my breath. Only this time, I didn't want it back. I hardly knew the girl's name and there I was (most likely) thinking with the wrong head. I wanted her- no, needed her.

No, I had to think about this for a moment; new model, new environment... new project.

That's a terrible idea... I looked across to the model across from me, only to immediately look away from her interested gaze. Uh, no chance, kid...

Thinking for a moment, I wracked my brain for a reasonable way to introduce myself to her. With her being a new model, her eagerness for exposure would be easy for me to satisfy. Getting to know her, on the other hand, I didn't think would be as easy.

"Bella," I slid my arm behind the brunette's head on the top of the couch and asked, "What do you know about Blue?"

Bella leant forward to look at the girl again and replied, "Not much. I do know that this is her first afterparty though. First fashion week, actually."

"She's an expensive girl." The other model smirked, shaking her crossed leg suggestively in my direction. "Her mother was a model too."

I felt my chin move outward a bit as I glanced into the illuminated ice bucket in front of us. I read each individual label on the remaining bottles before thinking to myself, Fuck, this is going to be harder than I thought...

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I just realised this is the 50th one shot! And at over 40k reads! That's insane!

Thank you so much for all the love and support you've given this book. It's turned three years old this month and I couldn't be more proud of the accomplishment.

I love you all so much, and I'll see you in the next one :)