bang, bang [ziam]

jealous little devil

i got questions for you guys!

1. do you want smut in this? if so, let me know of any preferences and i'll think about putting it in. i'm shit at smut though so beware.

2. also, are there certain things you want in this story? i've already plotted this story but i want to make sure everyone is happy and i wouldn't mind suggestions :)

music:

a tribe called conquest - jazz (we've got)

angel olsen - high & wild

cherry glazerr - trick or treat dancefloor

z.m

witnessing liam fall into this misty and confusing world that is the film industry is terribly amusing. it shouldn't be, but it fucking makes me laugh when liam is sitting in the makeup trailer and being suffocated in the fog of powdered concealer that is puffed all across his face. the girls who plan out his makeup for camera testing are hilarious in the way they fawn over liam like mothers to their sick.

i'd probably have a problem with it if it weren't for the fact that all of the women in there are just as gay as the rest of us, but it was seriously like liam was their little pot of gold. when he had taken those small steps up to their trailer to meet them all, i knew they were just expecting some horrendous brat that would demand the last breath out of all of them all, but of course liam is an absolute angel from above.

wherever he was, people fell in love with him.

i'm like a possessive boyfriend, waiting outside for him no matter the time it takes, even if i really should search for my assistant and also best friend, louis, and tailor sandra's fit on her dress. but instead i make sure i take liam to wherever he needs to go for camera testing today, smoking about a pack before my lungs seem to give up and i'm hacking up a lung. i had just put liam in a fitted, grey flannel and got a little distracted.

"hot." liam chuckles at my pathetic wheezing as he makes his way down the steps of the makeup trailer, looking like a real man for the first time i had ever met him. don't get me wrong, the curly-school-boy look was fucking drool worthy, but this... is so different.

the girls in there had done an amazing job on his makeup of course and he looked like he was glowing under the sun that made it's rare appearance. usually when an actor is an absolute cunt to the makeup department (since they commonly mistake them for being lower in the food chain) there's been a lot of tragedy walking out of here. i've seen some real catastrophic looks and it seems like the more of a shit-head you are to the makeup department, the more the actor will begin to have a resemblance of robert smith from the cure in the eighties. 

but liam... god, i was kind of speechless. his hair had been tampered with quite dramatically and lost the youthful bounce. the baby-curls were no longer and now he had been cut into a short-ish quiff that had given the illusion of, 'did he wake up like that?'. it wasn't a prominent difference but it still had me gawking at him, wondering how he had suddenly went from a boy to a man of the blue with a professional haircut. he definitely still had those adorable, golden eyes and round cheeks but fuck, i wanted to ravish him, right here, right now.

"i'm actually debating whether i should drag you off into the porter potty right now." i mumble and he runs his tongue across those plump, red lips of his, seeming to quite like that idea.

"so am i." he raises an eyebrow at me, smirking and i swallow. gulping, trying to get some sense of reality. telling myself to stop this cycle of screwing each other like fucking missionaries.