#Roadie is haunted

[thetwilightroadtonightfall]

suddenly remembering how I fell into wet cement one time in high school and how Ephy core that is

[albaandbatty]

Most Underrated Actress Alive

[cardinalfirefly]

LIAM???💀

Source: twitter

[disasterwriter]

You ever just create your country’s only fandom of a band and then 7 years later need to attend every concert hours before it starts to make sure people don’t kill each other in the queue?

[adventures-in-mangaland]

Even More Dead Boy Detectives Fic Recs

I've discovered some amazing new authors since my last post! And writers I've already recced have published more great stories So here's another fic rec post!

Who? You mean your teammate in the Codependency World Cup? (series) by RoseGanymede95

I couldn't chose! They're all great! Basically a series of Edwin and Charles through the years and on cases pre-show. It scratches that adjusting-to-being-dead/newly-escaped-from-Hell itch and the authors writing is magic! It also fleshes out a really interesting conflict in the payneland dynamic: Charles' drive to protect Edwin at all costs clashing with Edwin's guilt over putting Charles at risk/depriving him of some ideal afterlife. Parts one and four also introduces Constantine/Johanna and part three revolves around an absolutely gut-wrenching temporary break-up. 😢

In Hell I'll Be in Good Company by laylabinx

Charles rescuing Edwin from Hell does not go smoothly. Just. Bucketloads of Trauma for both of them. And for you, the Reader. It's so good though!

your fangs in my neck (like an anchor like a vow) by shadowquill17

Vampire Edwin AU! It's great because it combines the (homo)eroticism of vampiric feeding with Charles' whole bisexual crisis and post-confession Edwin worrying about making Charles uncomfortable. Also Charles is some kind of demigod/immortal agent of divine vengeance which is an AMAZING detail and I desperately want to see some fanart!

The same author's ongoing story to the pain is also excellent though very angsty (cw temporary character death). I'm anxiously waiting for an update!

To Memory Now I Can't Recall by engineering_madonna

This is an amnesia fic and the most recent in an established relationship series. The first two installments feature the boys getting together and navigating their new relationship, so pulling the old 'character A forgets their whole romantic relationship with character B' trope hits especially hard! The whole series is lovely, but I am WEAK for temporary-amnesia.

Lemonade & Sunrises by paraph

A Quiet Place AU! The boys are alive, but they're the only ones. Very bleak but in a way that makes me want more!

1999 au (series) by websters_lieb

The boys figure their shit out in the 90s. Also, Edwin gets to read Maurice and queer theory. The cases in both stories are compelling and the author's writing and characterisation of the boys are excellent.

I also recommend offer me that deathless death which is about the boys' first meeting, Charles' funeral and the birth of the agency.

if I could reach the stars (i'd give them all to you) by ObsessedWithFandom

Charles falls first, Edwin falls harder. This is an AU of the author's excellent Charles' bisexual awakening fic, which I also highly recommend. It has lovely OCs and Charles having a sweet little friendship/romance with the boy he saved in canon, which actually makes his death a whole lot more tragic.

Came up from that lake of fire by ghostinthelibrary

Charles and Edwin get caught escaping Hell and promise to capture a demon-eating ghost called The Deathless in exchange for their freedom. With the added twist that they get to be alive again! An exciting case, high stakes and all the alive-again culture shocks and emotional/interpersonal drama you could ask for.

gig officially gigged by laiqualaurelote

Band AU! It shouldn't work but it does. Which might also be an in-universe review for the band tbh. Idk, I loved Edwin's massive obscure musical instruments and Charles being his unpaid roadie. Peak Found Family Feels.

No Rehearsing It, No Reversing It by DontOffendTheBees

Charles overthinks being in love with Edwin, my beloved. This time with increasingly flimsy pretexts for why they NEED to kiss. Just perfect Idiots in Love, no notes.

The Case of David Bowie's Made up Sexuality by williamvapespeare

The agency attempt to help a living lesbian couple deal with a haunting. Meanwhile, Charles struggles through his bisexual (re)awakening. With bonus past (living) Charles no-homo-ing himself to the nth degree. Pure of heart, dumb of ass, indeed.

The lamps are going out by CasiHuman

Vengeful Spirit Edwin AU! Has some interesting ghost lore and Edwin being convinced his touch is painful to Charles (love that trope!). Also features some of the author's adorable/hilarious fanart at the end.

just frame the halves (and call them brothers) by Anonymous

Crystal stumbles upon the ghost of Edwin's older brother, who hires the agency to free him and his platoon from the battleground they've been haunting. Case fic with interesting details about Edwin's family life and an awkward as hell family reunion.

the case of the very long ferry ride by obsceme

Sex pollen but with skin hunger, so it's more touching turned making out and hand jobs in a bathroom. Interesting use of ghost lore and it's cute and well written.

Form 239, Schedule L by sanctuary_for_all

Charles Rowland's Love Language is Acts of Service: The Fic. So many feels! Plus Afterlife worldbuilding and some quality Night Nurse rep.

don't go sharing your devotions (lay all your love on me) by Hephanna

The boys and Crystal accidentally summon an alternate universe version of Charles. He's very... handsy. Charles being jealous of himself is objectively hilarious and it looks like it could be heading towards throuple territory. Possibly even a foursome, if alternate Edwin figures out parallel universe travel. Which he probably will.

Still a Better Lovestory by Vamillepudding

Hanahaki disease! Charles is on the case but Edwin's being weirdly uncooperative about his own curse. I loved the worldbuilding (there's a whole sisterhood of washerwomen!) and the angst, plus the writing is excellent.

The author has also written Eternal Sunshine, in which Edwin is cursed to feel no love of any kind. It makes for an interesting character study, contrasting cursed Edwin, his public reserve and his actual personality.

[dreamwatch]

Know When To Hold 'em

Written for @corrodedcoffinfest

Day #17 - Prompt: This One's For You | Word Count: 999 | Rating: T | CW: death of a parent, depression, grief, referenced drug abuse, alcoholism | POV: Steve | Pairing: Steddie | Tags: Wayne Munson, Eddie needs a hug, protective Steve, hurt/comfort

I'm sorry. :(

The first time it happened totally out of the blue.

It was their first big show in Indy, their home show, and of course Wayne wanted to be there, as much out of curiosity as anything. He didn’t hear a thing; Steve gave him a set of ear plugs and it was like he’d been handed a pot of gold. “I could have done with these years ago.” But he saw everything and he talked about that show to anyone that would listen, and a few that wouldn’t.

Eddie was over the goddamn moon about it so he told the audience, “My Uncle Wayne’s here tonight, everyone say 'hi Uncle Wayne!'” and five thousand people just— did it. Because Eddie asked them to. Even through the ear plugs Wayne heard it. Steve’s not sure he’s ever seen the old man blush before.

So it became a thing completely by accident. If Wayne was there they played The Gambler as the last song of the encore; like the flag at Buckingham Palace telling everyone the Queen was home: Uncle Wayne was in the house. The fans latched onto it straight away, and it was one of only a couple of songs that Eddie would sing. Wayne didn’t see the band play often but it didn’t matter where they were, the moment that song started up the crowd went wild; the roar of “Hi Uncle Wayne!” rolling through the audience before everyone sang along. And Wayne there at the edge of the stage shaking his head, grinning like a Cheshire cat.

Eddie was in Germany when Wayne died. 

‘The best that you can hope for is to die in your sleep’, sang The Gambler, and that’s exactly what he did. Wayne would have got a kick out of that.

Breaking the news to Eddie was the most painful thing Steve’s ever had to do.

Tonight is their first night back after a two month hiatus. It feels too soon, but there are contracts, missed shows, obligations, and there’s only so much their manager can do to keep the label, promoters and lawyers away. 

Eddie’s dead eyed and lethargic; he’s started drinking again, Steve discreetly hid his pain medication when he noticed the bottle emptying faster than it should have. He sleeps with a belly full of Ambien and spends his day wrapped in Zoloft. Neither help.

But the show must go on, right? 

Despite everything, the grief, the fog of depression, when he walks out onto the stage he’s a supernova, the brightest of lights in the deepest of darks. He’s fucking dazzling. 

The crowd at the Market Square Arena are on fire, they explode when the band run on stage but Steve doesn’t miss the extra noise when Eddie gets out there. Eddie loosens up as the gig goes on, and by the end, when they take a bow together, he looks like a different man to the shell thats been haunting their home. 

There will be a crash later. Steve is already prepared for it.

The band come off drenched with sweat. Steve can see the pinched expression on Eddie’s face, the exertion after all this time lying around like a ghost has taken its toll on a body that has seen better days. But he still smiles at Steve as he hands off the guitar to his tech, his Sweetheart, only brought out for the encores now. 

“Was it okay?” Eddie asks him, towelling the sweat from his face.

“You were amazing,” is all Steve can manage right there, but he’s buzzing inside and there’s more he wants to say. But that’s for later, when it’s just them.

The band are handing off instruments, roadies scurrying around, breakdown already underway. There’s a lot happening, and you know, Steve’s hearing isn’t that great these days but there’s nothing wrong with his eyesight. He sees the little commotion over Eddie’s shoulder, the way people halt, ears pricking up like labradors. Jeff turns to Steve with wide eyes and Matt has stopped in his tracks. And then he sees the exact moment Eddie picks up on it, the furrowed brow, the soft tilt of the head.

The crowd are singing Wayne’s song.

Everyone stops. Roadies stand there like marionettes with their strings cut.

And Eddie…

He looks devastated, his hand flying up to his mouth like he’s trying to bury a sob, stopping the grief from breaking containment.

Steve can see the band over Eddie’s shoulder, heads nodding before they’re grabbing guitars back from their techs. He knows what they’re going to do, but there’s no way Eddie is up to it, they have to know that. Jeff slings an arm over Eddie’s shoulder, pulls him in, knocking his forehead against Eddie’s. And then Matty does it, Matty who doesn’t have a sentimental bone in his body, but Gareth is long gone, already running back onto the stage, crowd cheering at the sight of him, before Matty and Jeff follow him out. And they pick up where the crowd are and they play. Eddie usually sings it, but Jeff takes it tonight. 

Steve grabs Eddie’s hand and gives it a gentle squeeze. “C’mon,” he says, pulling Eddie toward the side of the stage.

Steve loved Wayne, so fucking much. And maybe with all the help and care Eddie needed afterward, still needs, maybe Steve didn’t get a chance to grieve properly. He feels the ache in his chest, before he notices the calloused fingers wiping his tears away.

“He loved you, Steve.” He can’t reply, just nods, and Eddie holds him like he should be holding Eddie. And then he’s gone, out on to the stage, back with his band. No guitar, just sharing a mic with Jeff and joining as much as the tears will allow. And then the music cuts, Matty and Gareth joining them at the mic, and it’s just voices, nineteen thousand and four. Corroded Coffin, arms slung across shoulders, singing Wayne’s song. 

Singing to Wayne.

Yeah... I went there.

So, I had this idea months ago and parked it because I didn't know what to do with it. And then this prompt came along and BOOM!

[theemporium]

Yay for the 10k! Congrats love! a 💛 “30. grabbing onto their arm” with Nico Hischier!! Idk if I can request this as well but maybe in a haunted house setting too, if possible? 🫣

thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

30. grabbing onto their arm

.

It had been Timo’s idea to go to the carnival.

There were a few days between games that the boys had free with the exception of a few practices and training sessions. And with Halloween coming up, Timo deemed it necessary that they all do something to celebrate since the actual holiday would be spent travelling to another state for a roadie. 

Hence, the boy managed to hunt down and find some carnival set up an hour or so out of the main city. 

Much to everyone’s surprise—and mostly your own—your brother had managed to plan the day out completely. He had rides and games he wanted to play. He had tournaments set up amongst you all. He had everything planned out—especially the tickets he booked in advance for the haunted house on site. 

You didn’t think anything of it at first. After all, you knew your brother well enough to know that he got excited about holidays, and Halloween was just another thing he liked to throw his everything into. 

You only started getting suspicious when he became very insistent on the way everyone stood in the line. 

“It’s just a line, we’re all getting in anyways,” you said to him, perplexed by the way he insisted on you taking a certain ticket. “What’s the big deal?”

Timo just flashed you a knowing smile. “No reason.” 

As it would turn out, there was a reason. A big reason. A reason that left you to believe that your brother thought he was some mastermind who had done the impossible because, as it would turn out, you could only go into the haunted house in pairs. 

And you were paired with Nico Hischier—the captain of the Devils and the very same person you had been embarrassingly crushing over for the last year, which Timo knew very well.

“I’m sure it won’t be that scary,” Nico assured you, seeming to confuse your nerves for fear as the two of you approached the entrance. “It’s probably only scary for kids and Jack.” 

You snorted despite yourself. “Don’t get too confident, Cap, you might be jinxing yourself.” 

He just flashed you a smile. “How bad can a carnival haunted house really be?” 

The answer is fucking teriffying. 

You didn’t know what budget this haunted house had or who had planned it, but it wasn’t the fun, kiddy haunted house you were expecting. It was creepy and freaky and you could hear the blood roaring in your ears in anticipation as you rounded each corner. 

Your final straw was when one of the actors dressed in a killer clown costume jumped out from a seemingly normal cupboard, catching you off-guard and making you grab the closest thing to you for some comfort.

Nico didn’t even blink twice at you grabbing his arm, his body almost moving on instinct as he pulled you closer towards him and further away from the ‘threat’. You hadn’t even realised until the two of you scurried to the next section of the haunted house and you realised your face was practically squished against his bicep with his hand on the back of your head.

“Fuck,” you murmured, your heart racing in your chest. “I am going to kill Timo.”

Nico laughed, his hand dropping to gently cover one of your own. “He’s probably screaming himself.” 

“No wonder,” you grumbled. “This place is freaky.”

“I’ll protect you,” Nico murmured, his voice oddly sincere for a haunted house. 

But you could only smile in response. 

And you would never admit it to Timo because he would be far too smug but the haunted house was a pivotal moment in your relationship with the Devils captain, especially when you two walked out with you still wrapped around his arm and Nico showing no signs of wanting to let you go for the rest of the night.

.

[writerownstory]

She glances at the sleeveless boy—Luke, she guesses, only to find he’s already looking at her. His face turns a light shade of pink once he realizes he’s been caught, but then his eyes flick to the boy in front of him.

“It’s okay. Just please, keep it down. Or maybe play at a normal time?” Julie considers throwing in that she’s trying to protect them from Flynn’s wrath, but decides against it.

“Of course,” he agrees. “We—”

He’s cut off by loud buzzing coming from inside the apartment behind him. The three of them immediately cover their ears, with Luke quickly turning around to reveal a third boy with a bass guitar strapped to his shoulders and frantically pulling different cords from the amp next to him.

“I’m not doing it! I can’t get it to stop!” Reggie shouts.

The blonde boy hurries over and rips the power cord out of the wall, effectively silencing the amp.

As Julie brings her eyes back to Luke, she realizes there’s a 4th person present. An older man stands next to the amp. He looks like a roadie Julie’s mom used to have to help her out at her shows. “Wait, can you see me?”

She tries to avert her gaze, but it’s too late. “You can see me!” the ghost exclaims.

OR

the Juke Ghost Whisperer AU no one asked for❤️‍🔥

[belovedmusings]

You know you're my weakness.

Choso Kamo x You x Suguru Geto

Explicit Smut (🚫Minors DNI🚫)

Part four of the ‘Two + One’ story. Click for story masterlist.

Guitarist! Choso Kamo is your boyfriend, and tonight you are at his very first show with his new band, Curse Manipulator, lead by bassist and singer, Suguru Geto. You and Suguru are very attracted to each other, and your loyalty to Choso is once again put to the test by Suguru.

Relevant tags: sexual tension, thoughts of infidelity, Choso is a sweetheart, Suguru is irresistible, drunk Choso, emotional Choso, slow burn, no “y/n” for immersion, reader has no defining features for inclusivity, mild grinding and groping

Recommended songs to listen to while reading: eyes don’t lie (Isabel LaRosa), Bad Romance (Lady Gaga), Jealous Guy (The Weeknd)

A/N: so there’s no smut again but there’s adult themes so I tagged 18+. It’s a long chapter so get comfortable. Hope you enjoy!!

Read below cut:

The show ends and as soon as the members leave the stage for the roadies to start clearing away the equipment, you meet with Choso and you all make your way back to the dressing room.

Suguru holds the door open for everyone and they all bee-line for the water bottles on the table where the pizza was earlier, the bassist making his way there last as you move to sit on the sofa. You watch as he grabs a bottle and unscrews the cap, tilting his head back to drink.

Oh.

You aren’t prepared for the sight of his exposed neck, his Adam’s apple and the veins near where his shoulders meet the column, the tattoos peeking out from under his shirt, skin sweaty from exertion while performing…

His eyes find yours as he finishes, but your attention is taken from him when Choso sits beside you and hands you an extra water he grabbed. His arm comes around your shoulders, and you turn to look at him instead.

“Doing okay?” He asks you, eyes still shining with concern. You nod, clutching the bottle in both hands.

“I’m fine,” you reply, shaking your head after a moment, “Forget about me. You did amazing up there, Chos’. You’re a natural. Really—it was like I was seeing a celebrity.”

His face heats and he laughs in a huff, looking at his lap. “I don’t know about that, but…”

“Seriously,” you say, wanting him to know just how good he did. “If I wasn’t already dating you I’d have fallen in love in the crowd. I’m sure people did.”

He covers his face with his free hand and groans in embarrassment. “Okay, okay.”

You chuckle, pressing a kiss to his reddened cheek.

Then, you feel the other side of the couch dip, followed by that silky voice that haunts your fantasies.

“How was your first Curse Manipulator show?”

You look to your other side to see Suguru sitting next to you, his back to the armrest so that he can face you, leg on the couch bent so his foot rests on the knee of his other, taking up as much space as he can as per usual. His shin is touching your thigh and it’s playing with the soundness of your mind.

He asked you a question. Answer it before you give yourself away.

“It was amazing,” you say truthfully. “This band is special, seriously.”

The smile on his face remains the same. “How’d I do?”

What? He asked me that in front of Choso?

You swallow thickly, willing yourself not to look at your boyfriend. That would make you look guilty, and you’re not. You haven’t done anything.

Besides let him mark your wrist during a temporary lapse in control…stop. Focus.

“Of course you did great,” you do your best to laugh through it. He grins wider, nodding to himself. He leans against his fist, elbow digging into the cushion beside him. He sobers up and looks at you seriously after a moment.

“How are you doing? That creep didn’t get to you too bad, did he?” Asks Suguru. Choso shifts beside you.

“He didn’t,” Choso answers for you, “Thanks for calling him out.”

“Of course. I think we saw him at the same time,” Suguru replies. He shifts his attention from Choso back to you. “Men can be insufferable sometimes.”

With the way you’re looking at him, you’re the one who feels insufferable, wanting him in the most primal way possible. You also think that he’s talking about himself. He wants you the same way, if that damn mark that seems to be tingling subtly beneath your sleeve under his gaze is anything to go by.

“Yeah, they can,” you agree distractedly. The air seems electric, and the only thing that breaks the trance you’re in is Larue’s voice.

“Who’s ready to party?!” He shouts, causing you to jolt, flitting your eyes back to him. He’s clapping his hands together as Miguel is laughing.

“I got dibs on spinning the tracks first. Venue owner said I could,” Miguel replies, the two making their ways to the door. “You guys coming?”

“Oh, yeah, we’ll join you in a minute,” Suguru replies easily. “Don’t wait on our account.”

“All right,” shrugs Miguel, the two exiting the room.

Choso sighs beside you. “Should I drink tonight?”

You raise a brow. “Do you want to?”

“Yeah,” he admits. “I never do. It would be nice just this once.”

“Sure,” you shrug. You’ve heard from him that he’s sort of a lightweight, but you’ve never seen it yourself. “Just don’t get carried away.”

He smiles at you. “I won’t.”

“Are you bad with alcohol?” Asks Suguru, and Choso hums.

“Yeah. Can’t hold it well,” he answers.

“I see. I don’t really like it,” Suguru replies. He glances at you. “And you?”

“I think I’ll stay sober. Especially since Choso’s going to drink, I’ll be our driver tonight.”

“I see,” Suguru nods, getting off of the couch. “Well, should we go join everyone?”

You nod, standing up with Choso. Your hand interlocks with his, and the three of you head to the house of the venue.

—-

Miguel has good taste in music. The concert-venue-turned-club is lively with people dancing and having fun, dim lighting and the heavy smell of weed and alcohol permeating the air. It’s loud so you can’t really talk, but you and Choso are glued to the bar, your boyfriend nursing his third drink of the night. The two of you don’t really like outings such as this, but out of the two of you, Choso is more out of place. He doesn’t really like to dance like this—provocative grinding, groping in public—the one time you two did dance together in public it was at his cousin’s wedding a few months ago, wherein you waltzed together.

You don’t really favor the idea of clubbing, but you wouldn’t mind it if you trusted the person you were with. Choso wouldn’t want to do it, and since he doesn’t, you don’t dwell on joining in. Sticking to the bar is fine.

What isn’t fine is the sight of Suguru at the edge of the crowd a little ways away from you, dancing with some woman who approached him when the current song began. His hands are on her waist but his eyes are on you, and it’s doing very sinful things to you. Taunting you. Beckoning you. Provoking you.

He keeps her facing away from himself, their bodies pressed together, and the sight makes your blood boil. You want him off of her. You want him on you instead, to be dancing with him, to feel his body against yours, his arms around you, his breath on your ear—

It’s insane.

How are you getting jealous over a man who isn’t your boyfriend?

It’s not like you have any sort of claim on him. You have no right. And yet, when the woman makes a very obvious, lewd movement against him while she turns to whisper in his ear you grimace, turning away pointedly. You don’t look at him again.

Another few songs pass, Choso downs another drink, and that’s when your boyfriend leans over to speak to you.

“I have to run to the bathroom,” he says, “I’m gonna go get Suguru to be with you while I’m gone. I don’t want to leave you alone.”

Your heart starts racing. “Uh…”

“I’ll be back.”

Before you can stop him, he’s making his way over to his bandmate. You blink mindlessly, watching them talk, and then Suguru is politely parting with the girl he was with, moving towards you while Choso heads the other direction.

Suguru settles right next to you once he’s there, an easy smile across his features.

“Hey,” he greets, and you see it more than hear it due to the volume of the music.

“Hi.”

His eyes run over you for a second before he leans back. He sighs heavily, as if words that were on the tip of his tongue are fizzling out, and he takes another moment of consideration before moving closer so you can hear him.

“Can I buy you a drink?”

Your breath hitches nervously at his proximity, his face only a few breaths away, and against your better judgment, you steal a long glance, admiring the perfect structure of his features shamelessly.

“Is there something on my face?” He asks with a grin, and you blink a few times to get your head back on.

“No, no…”

“Then what is it?” He still has that content, easy expression on his face.

“You’re pretty.”

His eyebrows raise and you watch his eyes widen a fraction, lips parting in slight shock. Then, he laughs bashfully, eyes turning into crescents, and you feel your ribcage starting to melt.

“I’ve heard hot or sexy, but never ‘pretty’,” he says, eyeing you mirthfully. “I take that as the highest form of compliment.”

So, other people have voiced their thoughts on him, have flirted—who, you wonder. And how did he take it? Was he flattered? Did he flirt back?

“What’d that girl you were dancing with tell you that you were?” You ask boldly, shocked to hear those words bear the contours of your voice. His lips turn up in a smirk.

“Are you sure you want me to answer that question truthfully?” It’s said lowly, and coupled with his lidded eyes, you feel heat twist in your gut. Now you’re intrigued.

“I’m curious now.”

His lips tug up further at a corner before he leans forward even more, pressing his mouth to your ear. Your eyes flutter closed automatically, body subconsciously leaning into his. “She said I felt big.”

Despite the hot stuffy air of the room, suddenly your body is ravaged with goosebumps. Your breath escapes you, and as his eyes meet yours again, you feel certain he’s taken a few years off of your life span with his existence.

“You’re driving me insane,” you breathe, the words out before you can stop them, and it must be the type of response he’s looking for because he reaches up and touches your cheek with the tips of his fingers, holding your eyes with his stare.

“Trust me, the feeling is mutual.”

You inhale slowly, just sizing him up for a long moment. Around you, people are dancing, grinding, drinking, moving and yet everything feels so still. All you see is Suguru right now, and you don’t want him to stop touching you.

Your eyes flit down to his mouth, silver rings glinting against the dim lighting, and you watch his mouth pull into a smile.

“You never answered my question from earlier, love.”

That term of endearment punches through your diaphragm, knocking the wind out of you. Love. He called you love.

He asked you a question earlier. What was it? What is he talking about? Why is it so hot, all of a sudden? You need to cool off.

A drink. He asked if you wanted a drink.

“Oh, uh, no,” you shake your head, “I’m driving Choso home, remember?”

Choso. Fuck.

You back up, sense returning to you as you remember who you are and who you’re with.

Suguru’s smile falls slightly as you put distance between the two of you, and he makes a move to get closer again. Out of the corner of your eye you see a familiar frame, and turn out on instinct, abruptly making Suguru aware of Choso’s approaching figure.

He stills and stays put in his spot, looking over as Choso gets closer. As he comes into view, you notice tears in his eyes.

Your heart drops. You and Suguru had just been close enough to kiss. You’re certain that given one wrong move, you would have kissed. Did he see? Does he know about whatever you have going on with Suguru?

You turn to look back at Suguru, fear shining through your eyes, and he instantly turns towards your boyfriend, alert now. Whether he’s preparing to remedy the situation or lie completely, you don’t know, but Choso sees you and hurries over, hands outstretched for you.

“Baby,” he sniffles as soon as you’re within earshot, grabbing you and pulling you in. You let him, stunned and confused. You don’t think he’d react this way if he had seen, so what is it?

“What, honey?” You ask, cupping his face in concern. “Why are you crying, Chos’?”

“I just love you so much,” he blubbers, eyeliner running down his cheeks. “I do, I really do…”

It registers what’s going on. He’d told you before that he can’t hold his liquor well at all. He rarely drinks because of that. You’ve never seen him so smashed—he must be an emotional drunk. It must have really kicked in while he was separated from you.

“Oh,” you exhale in relief, realizing he doesn’t seem to know about the…thing between you and Suguru, “I love you too, baby.”

“Thank you,” he sniffles, peppering your face with kisses. His weight is being pushed on you and it makes you stumble with the effort to hold him up. “Thank you so much…”

“Is he okay?”

You turn to look at Suguru, who is watching worriedly. Choso hiccups and looks up at Suguru, nodding profusely.

“Yes. Yeah, everything is amazing,” he sobs, “I’m so happy…I’m so in love…”

He kisses your cheek again, putting more of his weight on you and you stumble to balance it. Suguru takes action and wraps one of Choso’s arms around his shoulders to hold him up, taking the pressure off of you.

Choso clings to your waist with the other hand, leaning on you with his head, getting tears on your neck. He can’t even stand—it’s time to leave. Any longer and he’ll probably pass out right here.

“He’s really drunk,” you tell Suguru. “Help me get him to the car. I have to take him home.”

Suguru nods, and the three of you trudge to the main door, weaving through the people to leave the pounding music behind.

As soon as you’re out you take a breath, sighing contentedly as fresh air hits your system. You hadn’t realized just how stuffy it was.

Choso makes a noise in the back of his throat and starts scattering more kisses over your face, making the three of you stagger for balance.

“Choso,” you say, trying to ground him, “Choso, let’s sit down, okay?”

He nods, allowing Suguru to help him to sit on the curb, feet in front of himself over the pavement. You look up at Suguru, who is watching you two silently. You can’t leave Choso like this, and you don’t really want to be alone in this area either.

“Did you drink yet?” You ask him.

“No.”

“Can you get my things, bring my car around, and help me get him into it?”

The bassist nods without hesitation. “Is it all in your bag back in the dressing room?”

“Yeah. You…you know my car, right?” How could he not?

He grins slyly, knowing exactly what you’re thinking, and nods. “I do. I’ll be back.”

You watch him go back inside, turning all of your attention to your boyfriend. He’s gazing at you like you hung all of the stars in his drunken stupor.

He says your name, and you reach up to brush a strand of matted hair from his forehead. “Yeah?”

“I’m a good big brother, aren’t I?”

The question catches you off-guard. You know his brothers, of course, you’ve met all ten of them and even have good relationships with a few. His youngest brother, Yuuji, is just adorable, and gushes about Choso all of the time.

“Of course you’re a good big brother. You’re a great big brother,” you answer, not sure where he’s going with it. “Why?”

“In that case…d’you think I’d make a good father?”

Your eyebrows raise in surprise. “Oh…well…yes, I don’t see why not.”

He smiles tenderly at you. “I want to have kids with you.”

Your jaw drops. What?

You’ve never talked about kids before. Ever. Is he just so drunk that he’s talking out of his ass, or does he mean it? You find it hard to believe he’d just be saying that, even like this.

“You do?”

“I really do,” he nods in confirmation, starting to ramble through his tears, “We should start tonight. We can have ten like my parents did. Or more. I love you so much, we can have a huge family—”

“Choso,” you interrupt him with a hand on his cheek. “Slow down, okay? It’s okay.”

He sniffles. “D'you not want them with me?”

You’re at a loss. You honestly haven’t thought about kids a ton. Tonight is the last night you’d have expected a conversation like this to come up.

“Chos’, we haven’t talked about it before,” you say softly. “It’s a big decision.”

He starts to cry more. “I’m sorry. I’m too emotional right now…but I just love you…”

You grunt in surprise as he thuds his forehead against your chest, clinging to you tightly. For a minute he just cries, and you pet his hair soothingly, unsure of what to do. He is an emotional guy—he cries during sad movies, sometimes even when he sees a video of cute puppies or kittens. But this is different. You can see why he steers clear of alcohol.

“I love you too,” you reply, kissing his hair. “I’m here, Choso, don’t worry.”

He nods, hugging you closer as he just lets it out.

You stay like that until Suguru brings the car around, parking it in front of you and getting out.

“Okay, let’s go home, babe,” you tell Choso, and he nods blearily.

Suguru helps you get Choso into the backseat, lifting his strong body from the ground and guiding him in. You buckle your boyfriend in and then close the door, sighing heavily.

“Thanks,” you tell Suguru as he drops the keys into your hand.

“Any time,” he tells you easily. “Are you gonna be able to get him to your place okay? He’s probably going to pass out."

You hadn’t thought about that. You won’t be able to get Choso out of the car alone, and he’s already looking ready to doze off.

“Yeah…I probably won’t be able to.”

“Want me to come with you?” Asks Suguru.

Letting him into your home with a belligerent Choso is not a good idea, but you don’t have a choice. You do need his help.

“Sure. Uh, please.”

And that’s how you end up driving home with not only your boyfriend in the backseat, but also with Suguru beside you on the passenger’s side.

The first part of the ride is quiet save for the low music on your speakers, Choso snoozing away behind you. You keep glancing back at him through the rear-view mirror, unable to stop thinking about what he’d said to you on the curb of the venue.

About halfway through, Suguru speaks up at a low volume.

“You look troubled, and you keep sighing,” he says to you. “What’s on your mind?”

You glance at him quickly, more of those confusing feelings bubbling up in your chest. He looks so good next to you in the car, waiting on your answer.

It wouldn’t be fair to talk to him about this before you’ve even processed it, let alone Choso. This is between the two of you, anyway. You don’t feel right delving into such an intimate topic with Suguru, so you opt to deflect.

“Just a lot happened tonight,” you shrug, “I mean, the concert was…eventful.”

“Right,” Suguru sighs, “I saw him bothering you, and…I don’t know, I just got upset. I spoke up before I could think—I’m sorry, by the way, for drawing attention to you like that. I could tell you were uncomfortable.”

You definitely weren’t expecting him to have picked up on that.

“Oh, well…I mean, it was a lot of attention, but if you hadn’t, who knows what he would have done?” You reply, “Thank you for that.”

“No need to thank me,” Suguru runs a hand through his hair, “Guys like that only think with their second heads.”

It takes a pause, but once what he said registers, you can’t help but snort, which quickly bubbles up into a giggle. The next thing you know, the two of you are sharing a laugh, some of the tension dissolving from your shoulders.

You realize you’ve never heard his laugh before. It’s so pretty—like deep, smooth wind chimes. You chance a glance away from the road at him to see his smile, and god, is it breathtaking? You want to see him like this all of the time.

Oh god, are you developing a crush on him?

That can’t be, it’s pure lust you feel for him. Not actual feelings. That’s all. You shake the thoughts away and compose yourself, focusing back on the road.

“I think most guys think with their second heads,” you reply, and he huffs in amusement.

“Maybe. But there are some that think with their hearts, instead.”

You draw in a breath, looking at him again. He smiles earnestly at you this time, and it makes your heart feel twenty degrees hotter than the rest of your body.

“Yeah, there are,” you reply noncommittally, rushing to steer the subject away from where it’s headed. You won’t flirt with Suguru while your drunk boyfriend is passed out behind you. “So…what got you into music?”

He hums, giving you a look. “Curved me quick, didn’t you?”

Your face gets hot instantly at his tone. “No, well, I mean—”

“I’m teasing,” He chuckles softly. “I don’t mind. I got into it in high school. It’s a little bit of a sad thing, really—my family moved around a lot, so I never had the chance to make friends with anyone. I turned to music to cope with the loneliness.”

You nod understandingly, flitting your eyes to him for a moment before asking, “Why’d you move so much?”

Suguru looks at you for a moment before saying, “My mom was a single mother. Well, she was, after my father left us when I was eight. He was addicted to gambling and never did anything to help around the house, so she was my sole caretaker anyway. He was awful—but that’s a different story,” he laughs quietly. “Anyway, she had a boyfriend after that, and he turned out to be obsessive and weird, so we had to move. I left my only friend behind, then. Her ex-boyfriend followed us around and we had to keep moving, it was this whole thing…”

He trails off, leaning on his knuckles against the window. You reach a red stoplight and look at him again, noticing the far-away glint in his eyes.

Without thinking, you reach over to place your hand on his leg to comfort him, earning you an appreciative smile from him. He covers your hand with his own, giving it a gentle pulse, and it makes your heart flutter.

The light turns green, glow cast upon his moon-kissed skin, and you turn back to face the dash, retracting your hand.

“Uh,” you begin, trying to minimize the tension suddenly between the two of you. “That’s…”

“Sad, I know,” He shrugs. “But I’ve come to terms with it. He left us alone after I had my growth spurt and decided to confront him head-on.”

Your brows raise. “Yeah? Did you…fight?”

“He was waiting for us in front of our apartment building,” Suguru explains, “Mom and I saw him getting back from school, so I got out of the car and basically told him if he didn’t fuck off, I’d break his legs.”

“No way,” You reply, glancing at him incredulously. “You said that? You weren’t afraid he had a weapon?”

“I guess I didn’t care,” Suguru answers, “My whole life, I’d been running, and struggling. So I figured if it ended badly, it didn’t matter.”

“Hmm,” you hum in amusement. “So…he listened, then?”

“The punch I threw after he tried hitting me first was pretty persuasive.”

Your mouth drops in shock. “You punched him?”

“Yeah, I did,” He says in a laugh.

“Wow. I didn’t take you for the violent type.”

“Well, I’m not violent, per say—that was the only time I got to that point. I’m very patient. But it was worn thin, back then. I’d had enough, and it was wearing my mother down, especially. I wanted to protect her, and I’m glad I did. After that, we stopped moving, I finished high school, performed on my own, met some people including Miguel, Larue, and our former bassist, Sukuna, and the rest is history.”

You consider his words, nodding for a moment. “That makes sense. That’s good that things became somewhat normal, after that.”

He shifts in his seat. “You know…I guess that’s partly why I got so upset when I saw that guy bothering you.”

It’s like he commands the beat of your heart. As soon as he says that, you feel it start to pound in your chest.

“You’re protective.”

“I am,” He agrees. “I’m just glad I could do something.”

You flash him a grateful smile, the car continuing to coast along the road at a pleasant speed.

“I’ve talked enough about me,” He says. “Tell me about yourself.”

The change in topic pulls a laugh out of you. “That’s pretty broad. What do you want to know?”

“Well, you told me about what you do for work back at Choso's audition. I guess…hobbies? Favorite movie, show, color, food, season?”

You snort quietly, deciding to play along. “Okay…”

You proceed to list off the answers to his questions in order, smiling at the nod of approval he gives you. “I see. Hmm…tell me about your family. Are you close? Who are the most important people in your life?”

The question is so intimate, it makes you feel a bit self-conscious. Still, it’s also really flattering that he’s so genuinely interested in you, so you answer him truthfully.

As you divulge in what is essentially your own backstory, he nods and listens, only humming on occasion. It carries on for the duration of the car ride, ending with, “…and that’s how Choso and I got together. He’s one of the most important people in my life, for obvious reasons.”

“Huh, I see. That’s a sweet story,” He replies, “You know, he talks about you a lot. I can tell he really loves you. It’s like you’re the center of his universe.”

A rush of warmth fills your chest, and you glance into the rearview-mirror, smiling softly as he continues sleeping away, out like a light.

“I can’t blame him,” Suguru tells you. “I’d act the same way, if you were mine.”

He says it so casually, it takes a moment for you to remember yourself relative to the statement. As soon as you do, you also realize that you’re turning onto your street.

You try a lighthearted response. “Oh? Am I that special?”

“Yeah, you are.”

He says it so sincerely, there’s no room for jokes. You just sigh, pulling the car up to the curb in front of your place.

“This is it?” He asks, looking out of the window as you put it into park and take the key from the ignition.

“Yeah,” you answer, unbuckling and grabbing your bag, stepping out of the driver’s seat. “Come on, let’s get him up to bed.”

Suguru obeys, getting out of the car and moving to get your boyfriend.

He ducks to grab Choso’s arm, tugging him towards the door and bending his knees to pull him onto his back, draping him across. He holds onto his wrists to steady him, standing up straight with a labored huff.

You try desperately not to notice the strain of his muscles but you fail instantly. As he kicks the door closed gently, you take a deep breath, turning away to lock the car.

“Okay,” you say, “Follow me.”

The two of you head towards the destination, keeping quiet so as not to disturb neighbors. Soon, you get inside, and after you lock the front door closed, you lead Suguru to your bedroom, where he eases Choso off of his back. Your boyfriend goes limply, laying facing up.

“Thanks,” you tell Suguru. “I’ll clean him up a little. Wait for me in the living room?”

Suguru gives you a smile. “I’ll be there.”

With that, he exits the room, leaving you to take care of Choso. You turn to look at your boyfriend, deciding to deal with his shoes first. After that, you ease into a rhythm, getting him out of his socks and pants.

Next, you take his hair from their ties, massaging the top of his head to relieve some of the strain. He grumbles in his sleep, leaning into your touch, and your gaze softens.

His eyelashes flutter, and then he’s blinking them open.

“Hey,” you greet quietly, “We’re home now. Suguru helped me get you here.”

He sniffles, groaning before he speaks gravely, “I feel like death.”

“That’s the last time you get hammered, Chos’,” you sigh, and he nods deliriously.

“…won’t ‘nymore,” he croaks, and you lean down, pecking his forehead. The furrow in his brow smoothes out, and within a minute, his breathing turns even and he’s asleep once more.

You sigh, deciding to just clean his makeup off—if he wakes up again, he can properly get under the covers himself. Moving to the bathroom, you grab a makeup wipe and wet a washcloth with warm water, padding back into your room to clean your boyfriend’s face up.

Once it’s free of sweat and eyeliner streaks, you throw the wipe away and toss the cloth into your hamper, taking a moment to gaze at your boyfriend from near the door.

What he’d said earlier returns to you. Wanting children with you—was he really being serious? It just doesn't seem feasible. He’s about to take off with the band. If you got pregnant now, you’d basically be a single mother. You wouldn’t be able to go everywhere with him. The kids would only see him when he’s not busy. Is that a life that you want? One where he gets to go off and be some famous star, and you stay home and take care of the kids?

You sigh. It sounds so nineteen-fifties-nuclear-family. Maybe kids would be nice, but with the lifestyle you two are about to live, it changes things. You don’t know if that’s what you want for yourself, and up until tonight, you had no clue Choso was even considering kids like that. Until you can talk sober, there’s no point in ruminating on it, you suppose. You’ll just have to be honest with your uncertainty when the conversation comes up.

All you know for sure is that you love him, and that he loves you. Anything else between you, the two of you can work out.

With that, you decide to table the thoughts for now so that you can wrap the night up with Suguru. You reach into your pocket, checking the time, way past midnight. You’re not going to drive Suguru all the way back to his car where it is at the venue. You’re tired and it’s pretty far away. Making him call a ride service sounds wrong, too. He could stay the night, right? That’s fine. You could set him up on the couch with blankets and a pillow. There are extra toiletries in the bathroom you have in the hall.

Taking a breath, you grab the blanket from the foot of your bed as well as a pillow from your side before exiting the bedroom, closing the door behind you.

You walk down the hall and find him near the bookshelf you have stacked with CDs, records, and cassettes. ‘Acquainted’ by The Weeknd is playing at a low volume on the stereo on the table beside it. He hears you walk in and turns to face you, a chuckle leaving his lips once he takes in the sight of the items in your hands.

“Are we having a sleepover?” He grins, watching you put them down on the couch.

“Well, I figured it was too late anyway. You can just stay here for the night—we have a bathroom with extra stuff in the hall, you can use any of the things there,” You say.

“Really? Do you guys have a lot of guests?”

“Not a lot, just, Choso has a lot of brothers and especially his youngest stays over sometimes, forgets things,” you shrug.

“Ah, I see,” he nods, then gestures to your music collection. “You have really good taste.”

You snort. “Thanks. Half of it’s Choso’s, but I guess we have pretty similar preferences.”

“Yeah? All the time?”

“Like, in general? Or with music?”

“In general.”

You shift on your feet. “Well, a lot, anyways.”

Suguru hums, folding his arms across his chest, seeming to consider something. “Why didn’t you dance tonight?”

You aren’t expecting the question, so when he asks, you sort of flounder for a second.

“Well,” you begin, “It’s not really Choso’s thing, and I don’t mind, so we just didn’t.”

“You don’t mind?” He asks, “But…you would have liked to?”

How can he see through you like that?

“Sort of…”

He clicks a button on the stereo, and the song starts over. He turns the volume up slightly next.

“You seemed like you were missing out tonight,” Suguru says as he walks towards you, crossing the room quickly. “It was a shame Choso wasn’t dancing with you.”

He sidles up to your front, smiling at you warmly.

“Dance with me.”

You draw in a breath, the feelings you have for him that you’ve suppressed in order to take care of Choso coming back tenfold. Like this, you become aware of just how close you two are, in a room all alone together, Choso out cold in bed. The potential is maddening. Still…it’s not a good idea.

“I don’t know…”

“It’s just a dance,” shrugs Suguru, that damn smirk he makes good use of drawn up over his lips again. “I can tell you want to. Please? You’ve had to deal with a drunk creep and then a hammered boyfriend. Just have some fun with me before bed.”

Have some fun with me before bed. That’s going to be the new one-liner for your fantasies later, you’re absolutely sure of it.

You gaze at Suguru’s face, eyes sincere and kind. How can you refuse? He’s right. You want to dance with him.

You should have some fun—it’s innocent enough. Just a dance. It should be fine.

“Okay,” you nod, and he grins at you, taking your hand and leading you to the center of the living room. His hands find your waist, pulling you so close you have no choice but to rest your palms on his chest. You share the same air, now.

“I saw you getting jealous back there,” Suguru says softly, the two of you moving to the beat slowly.

“Jealous?”

“When I was dancing with the girl,” He replies, eyeing you mirthfully. “The truth is, I wanted to make you jealous.”

You swear your heart slams against your ribcage. Heat floods your system at the words, made worse when he pulls you against him, your fronts pressed together. You can feel him everywhere and it’s short-circuiting your brain.

“Well, you were successful.”

He chuckles lowly and you swear it vibrates in your own ribcage like thunder.

“I want you to know, you’re the only one I want.”

Your breath stutters on its way out. How can he continue to say things like that to you?

“Suguru…”

“You can feel it, can’t you?” He asks, “The potential between us?”

You force yourself to breathe, barely paying attention to your dancing now. His eyes are reaching into your soul. You thank your past self for deciding not to drink, because if you had, you’d have probably kissed him by now. Instead, you cling to your wits.

“I’m not going to hurt him. You know I love him, Suguru.”

“I know,” he agrees, “But I still want you.”

“You shouldn’t,” you say, feeling your resolve start to crumble. He’s right here. Touching you, breathing the same air—you could give in right now and have him on the couch. You could finally answer all of the questions you have about what he’s like, what you’d be like getting intimate with him…

He searches your eyes while you let your thoughts run wild. “Push me away if you don’t want this.”

Confused, you furrow your brows. “What?”

But he doesn’t give a verbal response. He just leans in, pressing his nose to yours. That’s when you realize that he’s moving to kiss you. Your breath hitches as his top lip brushes against yours, hot air fanning over your mouth—

You have a boyfriend, for fucks’ sake, you need to stop.

By the grace of your willpower, you turn around at the last second, facing your back to his front. His hands stay on your waist, lips finding your ear as he corrects his position.

“We both know you want me too.” It’s said under his breath, deeply, and your eyes flutter shut as your movements to the music become less rhythmic and more sensual. He's barely fazed by the way you had dodged him.

“Just dance with me,” you tell him in hopes of distracting him, covering his hands with your own. He leans his head against yours, sighing beside you.

“I think I‘ll show you what she was talking about.”

You’re perplexed for a second before he presses himself flush into you, the outline of his member bluntly felt against your body. You shudder—she was right. He does feel big. That time in his kitchen wasn’t an exaggeration after all.

“Fuck,” you swear under your breath, and he slides his hands from your waist to your hips, then back up. The touch automates a response from your own body. You grind back on him, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth as you feel even more of him. He responds by squeezing your waist, stamping a peck to your ear. He feels firmer; his body is reacting to yours and the notion makes you dizzy.

You shiver, leaning away as he plants more chaste kisses along the line of your jaw, giving him more room.

Maybe it’s the late hour making your judgment waver, but lust starts possessing you like an eager demon, and when he gently guides you to turn back around, his lips ghosting over yours—

"I love you so much." Choso's voice echoes in your mind suddenly, like a flare in the dark.

Abruptly, you pull away, cutting the passionate exchange short and putting distance between the two of you. It’s like your head suddenly reattaches to your body.

You feel your heart breaking—how could you do this?

Choso had just been gushing about you earlier, proclaiming his love for you and wanting kids with tears streaking down his face, and here you are, so close to giving in to some sort of fucked up lust for his bandmate.

Suguru sees the anguish on your face and speaks up.

“It was me. I’m sorry. I pushed and got carried away,” he sucks in a breath, running a hand through his hair. “I…I know I’m probably not welcome here anymo—”

“I’m going to bed,” you choose to say, looking away. “Just stay the night. Choso…can take you back tomorrow.”

The room is silent for a moment save for the music, deathly still, tension so thick one could cut through it.

Suguru says your name, and you meet his eyes, so many mixed emotions swirling inside of you. Regret, desire, sadness, longing, disappointment in yourself—it’s too much.

“I’m sorry,” he says again. “I shouldn’t have tried to kiss you. Forgive me, please.”

You don’t even know what to say. You can’t believe you almost did that.

“I didn’t mean to make things—”

“Well, what did you mean to do?” You lash out, surprising even yourself. You’re upset, mostly with your own actions, but rationality is no longer a factor here. “I told you I wouldn’t cheat, and you keep pushing.”

He frowns. “I know. It’s my fault—I’m sorry.”

Neither of you move, and it feels like a sort of stand-off. He eyes you for a moment before sighing, brushing his hair back.

“He deserves you. I don’t,” he tells you, pain in his gaze. “I won’t do anything like that again, I’m okay with just being friends with you. Can we?”

You do think he’s cool, and he’s kind to you, as well. He protected you at the concert tonight along with your boyfriend. He bore his soul to you in the car, and you feel like the two of you really would be great friends, if it weren’t for the mess of confusing feelings you’ve tangled each other in.

You know having him around will always cause problems. You’re always going to want him, and he’s always going to want you. At some point you both will cross even more lines you shouldn’t, and your relationship as well as the band will get caught in the crossfire. You can’t let that happen.

“I’m sorry, Suguru,” you sigh heavily, “But we shouldn’t see each other again. You know it’s not a good idea.”

His face falls even further, and it shatters the already fragmented pieces of your heart. “But, I don’t want to lose you.”

It stings. But you need to drive the point home. You can’t lose Choso—he’s your boyfriend, not Suguru.

“You can’t lose what you don’t have.”

You know that it lands exactly where it needs to—you’ve never seen a man break before, but the way he just crumbles before you in his eyes makes you feel even worse than you already do.

“I’m sorry. Just…sorry.”

With that, you turn and walk up your hallway, entering the bedroom you share with your boyfriend. You couldn’t bear to stay in that room with the aftermath of your mistakes any longer. The door shuts behind you and you lock it, feeling a lump form in your throat.

Choso is still completely comatose, breathing heavily, and you walk over to him and soothe hair from his face. The tears finally spill down your cheeks, a million apologies fused into each one of them. You want the ground to just swallow you up so that Choso doesn’t have to be with someone so unfaithful and untrustworthy. You let Suguru touch you, and you almost kissed him twice. Choso would never do that to you with someone else, how could you do it to him?

You don’t know where things will go from here. Will you tell him? Will you keep it a secret? Lying to him forever can’t be good—but can you be brave enough to tell him the truth? Could you bear it if he leaves?

There’s so many thoughts in your head, so much self-deprecation you feel sick.

“I love you, Chos’,” you murmur, placing a kiss on his brow. His lips curl up in a gentle smile, and it makes you feel all sorts of wrong. Even in sleep, he loves you completely. You abused that tonight, and there’s no mitigating that.

Without a doubt, you know that you’re in for a very long, sleepless night.

---

A/N: things are awkward between you now...what will happen next? Thanks for all the support, I'm so happy you're enjoying this! I'm going to be cross-posting to AO3 soon so look out for that!

Please don't copy or repost, but feel free to reblog and share!

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[stusbunker]

Spotless: Vivace

Chapter Twenty Five

Featuring: Dean Winchester/Reader, Dean/Bela

Other characters: Bobby, Tiny, Lee, Kevin, Annie, Pamela, Sam, faceless fans and support staff

Word Count: 2900

Warnings, etc: Mutual pining, jealousy, grief, musical backstory and hope

A/N: The band played on.

Series Masterlist

You held your breath as Bobby gathered the band backstage. Two dozen roadies, stage crew, and security stilled as he looked past the boys and Pam to their support staff, only Charlie and her team were missing, already in place in the booth. You shivered and waited. Jody’s voice echoed behind the bend thanking the crowd and promising a great show from Phantom Traveler to come. Andy slinked around and continued to snap pictures, despite the glare it earned him anytime Bobby caught the lens pointed toward him. The ragtag group buzzed with excitement and you silently prayed that it would go off without a hitch. 

Finally, Bobby began to speak, “I know a lot of you are nervous about tonight, ‘bout this tour— hell about this band. But it means a lot that y’all signed on for another round of nonsense with these idjits. It means you believe in them, that you’ve got faith they can pull together and get it done. Well, I’m here to tell you it’s not a time to worry, because ain't no other band that can do what these guys do. It’s a time to celebrate. Let’s get out there and fuckin’ rock’n’roll.”

Lee hooted and people cheered, you couldn’t help but clap and shriek along. Then everyone crowded in for the circle of hands and chanted “Phaaaaaantom TRAV-ler!”

The band and crew maneuvered in the dark, letting the interim instrumentals keep the crowd distracted as they set up. You scurried back to where you had left Bela in the wings, under Tiny’s care.

“Everything alright?” Bela asked out of the side of her mouth, shifting in place as she tried to clock Dean amongst the many moving shapes.

“Aces,” you replied, bouncing on the balls of your feet as the crowd started to clap with an increasing beat.

You spotted Sam and Kevin’s silhouettes high five and then Lee strummed a teaser chord. Walkie talkies crackled around you as the all clear was called. You kept an earpiece in, but without much left for you to do, you turned it to the lowest setting besides mute. 

It was go time. 

“Bring ‘em up, Charlie,” Bobby prompted over the line and the Forum erupted. 

Lights and wavelengths of sound shot off in every direction and Phantom Traveler took off.

You wouldn’t have stopped yourself from screaming bloody murder even if you had remembered you were directly beside your very posh best friend and her security detail. 

It was happening. They made it back home.

“Good evening Inglewood!” Dean greeted, pointedly accurate. Plus you could tell he was grinning from where you stood, from just the sway of his head and a glimpse of his profile.

There was no other chit chat, no grand speech thanking them for coming out, it was just the band, the music, and the audience.

They started off with ‘Woman in White’, their first major single and something high energy enough to get people out of their seats. Then on to the B side of their first EP, which was a cult favorite called ‘Playthings’ that featured something affectionately referred to as ‘the beat off’ between Sam and Pam.

But at the time it was written, it was played by Sam and Cas.

Pam did it better.

It was like someone was racing up the stairs or against time itself as the two rhythm setting musicians fought for dominance. The crowd ate it up. And you could tell they both were already dripping sweat by the time the song ended and they tuned it back and finally jumped into their last fateful album.

‘Scarecrow’ was haunted and foreboding, reminiscent of early 90s metal that you knew Dean adored. It was also Cas’ favorite track off that entire album. And Kevin killed the bridge as the keyboard turned into an ancient organ chasing the crows away with the dawn. Charlie even added a cackling Vincent Price at the end that couldn’t be topped.

“How’s everybody doing tonight?!” Lee took the words out of Dean’s mouth, which earned him a kick in the ass. They were having a blast up there and it was infectious.

The crowd roared.

“That’s what I’m talkin’ about!” Dean bellowed. “I hope you don’t mind, but we’d like to bring somebody out for this next number.”

Shrill ruckus pierced the air, they knew what was coming.

“She’s our very dear friend and we just so happened to convince her to tag along with us this tour. You know her, you love her, please— give a very warm welcome to the incomparable Ms. Annie Hawkins!”

Everyone screamed and stomped, watching as the spotlight followed Annie from the farside of the stage towards the standing mics centerstage.

“Oh, she looks amazing,” Bela spoke for the first time since you’d gotten back. And she wasn’t wrong.

“The girls probably had a blast with her in their dressing room,” you tacked on thoughtfully.

“Her top though,” Bela continued. “I want it.”

You chuckled at Bela’s priorities and quickly got sucked back into what was happening barely thirty feet away.

“You sure you’re ready over there?” Annie teased as Dean adjusted his mic after rushing to set down his guitar.

The crowd laughed in unison.

“I’m ready, do you think they’re ready?” Dean asked coyly, gesturing to the crowd.

All around you camera screens glowed and flashed burst through the darkened arena. Concert security lined the stage and guarded the partitioned areas for the crew and band to navigate the area. Until that moment you really hadn’t been able to pull any single response from the cacophony. You hadn’t been trying anyway. But when Annie goaded Dean a cluster of women in the pit got your attention.

“And here I thought you were out here warming them up for me?” Annie teased.

The crowd loved it, but one catty comment made it feel like you and Bela were right there up on stage with them. “Bela needs to get her man before that cougar gets too cozy up there.”

They eyed your little corner below the VIP suspiciously. You missed whatever Dean said in response, instead watching the women glare and Bela adamantly ignore them in equal measure.

But then the song began. A slow and slinking start reminiscent of Springsteen’s Fire. Which you clocked the first time you heard it, but that was just the intro. The lyrics started up as a quick conversation, a compromise even and then they were harmonizing into the chorus. 

The band hadn’t done many duets, even with such talented singers in their ranks. It wasn’t their style. But this song felt like it had always existed, it was timeless and familiar and really fucking catchy. Annie beamed at Dean when he slipped closer on stage and they belted out the final lines.

It made you feel like they were performing only for you, for their people. It was honest and intimate, but this wasn’t rehearsal or karaoke and the audience would not be forgotten.

Everyone cheered. Even the judgy bitches that kept watching Bela at your side.

Dean hugged Annie and made sure she got the reception she deserved, egging the crowd on and bowing in homage to her talent.

She rolled her eyes, did a snarky curtsy and waved her way back off stage.

“You guys seem to be digging that one. Maybe we could play some more new stuff for y’all tonight?” Lee asked. “I mean— the album isn’t out yet.”

Naturally, the crowd shouted and begged for more.

Bela turned to whisper to you. “They’re not gonna get in trouble for this are they?”

You shook your head. “They’ve got permission to do a few songs until the album is actually out and then they’ll change up the set list to cover more of the new stuff.”

“Got it.”

“Yeah, bootlegs always exist, but this way they’re building excitement but not giving away the farm.”

“Lee!” Dean admonished playfully. 

“What?!” Lee spat back, smirking.

“Sam— tell him.”

Sam shook his head, always stoic on stage.

Dean kept up the ruse. “I don’t know if we should. Pamela?”

Pamela thudded the bass drum and hit the crash. 

“Okay! Pammy’s in— Kevo?” Lee kept the momentum going.

And without any warning or time for Kevin to actually respond, they burst into the opening of 'Prophet and Loss'. 

“I would kill for a drink—- is there somebody we could send to concessions?” Bela asked midsong. And you looked around, wondering if any of the staff could actually leave their posts without getting in trouble. 

You suddenly felt like a bad host. “We’ll get you a box for Vegas. I know this isn’t as fun as it sounds standing for two hours straight.”

“Y/N, I’m fine. Promise.”

“Okay, well I’ll go after the next song. You want anything, Tiny?” you asked your silent companion.

“All good, boss.” He replied and straightened his stance, clasping his hands in front of him.

Kevin silenced the space with the burst of chords at the beginning of his solo, showcasing what Julliard training could do and how rock’n’roll could still be classy as hell. The key changed, turning the mood broken and lamenting as they stumbled into the bridge where Dean pelted out about losing Cas without so much detail.

 Dean let the note hang in the air. “'Prophet and Loss', everybody.”

Whistles filled the air, keeping the mood somber but with enough reception to know that small offering was gratefully accepted.

“Thanks— uh, I, we really appreciate being here tonight and being able to share some of the new album with everybody. But we know you wanna hear the stuff you know, too. So we’re gonna hop back to it and have a kick ass night. How’s that sound?” Dean checked in.

The crowd cheered.

“Did you hear something?” Dean asked Lee jokingly.

The crowd got louder.

“I don’t know if they’re up for much more,” Lee taunted back.

You rolled your eyes and turned to Bela. “Okay, I’ll be back, text me if you think of anything besides drinks.”

The crowd continued to take the bait, howling behind you as you made your way out of the off limit areas and up a side stairway towards the general admission cavern-like hallway. For the first time it felt like all day, you exhaled. Your pass flapped against your chest as you strutted quickly towards the concession area, bypassing the VIP lounge because you didn’t want to get distracted by Madison or any of the mid-level suits that might be milling around.

You could have stolen something from the dressing room, but that wouldn’t have taken nearly as long and you needed some time off of Bela duty tonight. Which made you feel guilty as hell. She was your best friend! She didn’t do anything wrong. And yet you were incredibly frustrated with even the thought of her.

So you waited in line, ordered two extremely overpriced and depressingly weak cocktails, and put them on your expense card. 

The thing about regret is that it isn’t a one time experience. There might have been a moment in the process of you contriving this scenario for Dean’s redemption where you second or third guessed yourself. But the biting sting of seeing him play happy with Bela online and even in person had come at you in waves.

Regret was bearable if it meant it worked, if Dean could have some peace.

But this wasn’t just regret, it was petulance and jealousy and injustice.

Because Bobby had asked all the way back in the beginning, why couldn’t it have been you playing arm candy? And the fact that people could see what you had tried so hard to bury and ignore plain as day, well, it made you feel incredibly small and even more pathetic.

There was no reason for you to be the one at Dean’s side. But damn did you want to be.

And somehow you had managed to keep that from one of the most important people in your life. So it wasn’t just that Bela was getting a part of Dean that you’d never have. Or parts. You shuttered at the thought of where his mouth had been. It was that your best friend hadn’t even clocked the elephant in the room.

Like she didn’t even know you at all.

Or maybe that was on you too. Maybe you hadn’t been honest with yourself until it was too late. How could you put that blame on her too?

You slammed your drink and got back in line for a replacement, not wanting to return with only Bela’s cup like some kind of maid. You could hear the crowd singing along with Lee on ‘A Reaper’s Offering’, a bluesy cut from their second studio album. 

You probably had another two songs before you’d miss anything else new. But you also knew Bela was waiting and the longer the show went on, the more drunk and ballsy random fans could get. You couldn’t leave her with the forever nonplussed Tiny for backup. You smiled at the woman working the bar cart apologetically and ordered another husk of a cocktail.

After another stream of applause, the opening bars of ‘Abandon All Hope’ started and you knew you had to book it. This was Jo’s song, you couldn’t miss it. You never left Dean to get through this one alone. Huffing down the service steps with two drinks in hand in heels was something that you managed only from practice, but you made it in time for the first chorus.

“Oh aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” Bela murmured to her drink before sipping it and wincing. “It’ll do. Took you long enough,” she teased and winked, hip checking you as you struggled to get your breathing under control as you mouthed along with Dean’s words.

“Trapped by your side with no exit, we had to let you go—”

Bela quickly picked up on your shift in mood and reeled in the playfulness, for which you gave her a grateful glance before turning back to try and lock eyes with Dean on stage.

“Defending that night while trying to give comfort, we should have known—”

“To abandon all hope,” you sang out, the last lyric rising up to hover in the air. 

Dean turned and glanced in your direction and then looked again once he finally saw you. He nodded and tapped his heart and you returned the gesture, you both kept her safe as you could now. He blew a kiss to the ceiling and bowed.

The crowd continued to echo around you, suffocating yet as distant as thunder. 

“Alrighty, folks, we’re gonna take a short break for Sammy to find another shirt and we’ll get you one last sneak peak,” Dean explained. “Kevin? Think you and Pam can keep ‘em busy for me?”

“Aye-aye,” Kevin said and saluted, out of range of his mic stand.

Pam started in with the count and Kevin peeled in down from the upper registers, like he was sliding in from Heaven and crashing a party. The instrumental interlude was a mesmerizing feat of jumping genres and killing time while showcasing just what all each of them could do. But you weren’t even paying attention. Dean made a beeline for the back of the stage and he wound around security until he could find you. 

He gripped the ball of your shoulder and leaned in. “I didn’t see you until the end— had me worried, Trouble!”

He had to talk over the crowd, his back firmly towards the nearest wedge of fans.

“I know, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be!”

He stared at you, sweaty and down to a single layer, earpiece still in his left ear. 

“You’re killing it up there,” Bela said, making you both stop and blink. Dean grinned and pulled her into a hug, a boyfriend hug, arms tight around her waist so her arms can loop around his neck. She even kicked a leg back for balance. 

God was she good.

“You keep an eye on her, okay? She’s gonna need tissues for the next one,” Dean warned playfully down his nose at Bela about you.

She rolled her eyes. “You are a menace on the emotional, aren’t you?”

“All in a day’s work,” Dean shrugged and set her back on her own two feet.

The crackle of a nearby walkie made Dean look around for whoever was sent to find him. “Sam’s looking for you,” an unimpressed lackey of Benny’s pointed out from ten feet away.

“Yeah, I bet he is. Alright, well, see you ladies later— Tiny,” Dean stepped back nodding. He soon disappeared only to hop up on the wing of the stage, grabbing an acoustic and sliding it on.

After the chaos of the crowd dissipated from Pamela’s and Kevin’s antics, Dean and Sam walked on stage and sat down on a pair of stools that had been left out for them. They didn’t look at each other or even the crowd and you knew in that moment that Dean hadn’t been lying. You weren’t gonna survive the next song live with a dry eye.

‘Brothers Keeper’ nearly took down the entire venue. 

Cell phones and lighters blazed in the dark, enraptured space as Dean and Sam sang about each other, about family, and about forgiveness.

Tagging:

@deans-spinster-witch

@mrswhozeewhatsis

@cosicas-cuquis

@fics-pics-andotherthings-i-like

@suckitands33

@ladysparkles78

@deans-baby-momma

@stoneyggirl2

@sassy-pelican

@leigh70

@globetrotter28

@winharry

@lastactiontricia

@rockhoochie

@brightlilith

@coldhearted93

@djs8891

Chapter 27: Polyphony

[romancingdaffodils]

Love Kills.

part 1

bassist!rockstar!remus lupin x roadie!reader

In which one of your closest friends happens to be Sirius Black, who is also the drummer in the infamous punk band: The Marauders. You’ve met Remus Lupin twice before the tour begins and you found yourself quite enthralled with him. The more time you spend, the greater the need is.

warnings : mention of drinking, and that’s about it. gender neutral reader with a small understanding of drums and stuff :333

title stolen from Love Kills - Joe Strummer

hiii i know you missed me

i’d like to give a special thanks to @alegsy for all his help on this one. and if you like Alex turner go check out @joepublicspeakings :33. Seriously Al thank you much for helping me out with all the roadie tech stuff and ideas and punk music too it really means a lot and i love you sooooo much. thank u smsm

ps pls ignore that matt plays electric and not bass it’s not my fault i love him so much

Sirius Black was by far the most interesting man you've ever met. He was also the reason you were stood with your hands clasped tightly around the handles of two stuffed bags.

"C'mooon, you know me, it'll be fun! You like the music, know the tech, got the skills nailed. You're the perfect roadie, join us." Sirius begged, following you around the bar. You frowned at him. Unfortunately for the raven haired man, you liked your job, which meant it took a lot more convincing to get you onside.

"Sleeping in a glorified caravan for god knows how many days doesn't exactly seem like my idea of fun! Plus, Sirius, I only really know James. Met the other lanky one, what, twice? Don't know the last guys name! It's not fair." you argued, crossing your arms and glaring at him. You had included a small white lie in the fact Remus Lupin was not known as the lanky one in your mind - you were familiar with the version of him that haunted your daydreams. He pouted at you. Yes, the fully grown man pouted at you.

"It pays well-ish! It'll get you in with the industry and it's months with your favourite person, ever. Me! On top of that, it's not a glorified caravan, we invested this year so shut your trap." he whined, giving his best puppy dog eyes.

"Right, fine, maybe. I'll, consider it. And, never ever say 'shut your trap' again. You're a daft twat, you know that?" you caved. He grinned.

"So that's a yes! And I'll do you the favour of assuming you're just trying to keep me humble." he grinned once again. Mentally, you smashed your head through a glass pane. What had you gotten yourself into?

“Nice shirt.” a voice spoke from beside you, giving you a small smile. You smiled back. The lanky one - Remus Lupin, you reminded yourself. Not that you needed much reminding; the honey eyed man stuck firmly in your brain.

“Thanks, didn’t know you liked Bowie. Thought all the punk stuff would be more for you.” you joked, peering up at him. He scoffed, as though your statement was the most insane thing he’d heard.

“Can still like the ‘punk stuff’ and Bowie. Plus, he’s a genius. Done every style and more, like.” he replied, some sort of northern accent coming in thick and fast. He was different to Sirius in many ways and you took comfort in it. Even though, at times, Remus was a tad bit mean. But, not really to you. The three times (including now) you’d met him he’d been quite lovely. Sirius had chewed your ear off about that.

“It took me years to get a grin out of him! And you do it straight away? It’s so not fair!” he whined, leaning against the counter of the pub’s bar.

“You’ll recover, posho, promise.” you said, giggling to yourself at his heartbreak.

“Yeah, suppose you’re right. Nice to see you again, by the way. It’s been a while. ‘m excited for the tour and stuff.” you said, deciding that changing the subject might suit you better.

“Me too, can’t believe Sirius actually got you on as a roadie. Did he physically fight you for it? Last time we asked you were dead set against it.” he gestured for you to walk beside him as he spoke. He was holding his bags in one hand and his bass case in the other. He made short work of putting everything bar his bag of necessities into the storage bin. Then, quickly took your own off of you, shoving them into the storage of the bus. He didn’t seem to mind doing the heavy lifting for you.

“He harassed me, a lot. At work. A lot. It’s fine though, I think I’ll enjoy it if I’m honest. If all else fails at least I’ll get contacts and friends out of it, yeah?” Remus snickered. He smiled down at you as he closed up the storage compartment.

“I’ve been telling myself that for the past, what? Decade? Trust me, he entices you in, you’re trapped now. Failed plenty of times and don’t think I’ve gained much - apart from wanting to bash all three of their heads in. On multiple occasions.” you giggle; he smiles.

“Ah well, just promise me you won’t let me kill anyone then. I’ll do the same for you.” you said, holding out your pinky for him to close the promise. It was childlike and somewhat immature, sure, but it locked the deal closed. Wrapping his pinky around yours, Remus silently agreed to your proposition.

“It’s nice to meet you— Jesus Christ! You’re lanky. Sorry. That was mean. Remus, right?! I’m the one Sirius told you about.” you shouted over the blaring music. Submission by the Sex Pistols was causing the entire room to shake and was rocking you to your core.

“Yeah. I know you. Been trying to keep up with Pads, by chance?” Remus chuckled down at you, assuming you weren’t always this dishevelled.

“Always. Thought I could out drink him, you know, for a posh boy, the lad can drink.” he smiled.

“Perks of going to a boarding school. Mix with all sorts of people, it was good for him.” you smiled.

The night seemed to fly by and you couldn’t keep yourself away from Remus. Flocking to him like a moth to a flame, your cheeks were beginning to hurt from smiling so much. Thankfully, the incomprehensible amount of vodka you had consumed helped dull the pain.

“Can’t believe we haven’t met before.” you purred, peering up at him.

“Neither. Pads is cruel, keeps all his best friends to himself. Didn’t know there was anyone else on the planet who actively enjoyed The Clash and Dostoyevsky.” he responded, bringing a green tinted glass bottle to his lips.

“Let me try it.” you demanded, holding out your hand.

“You don’t like beer.” he said, giving you a small grin.

“Wanna try, it might be different.”

“Oh, yeah? All the beers you’ve had in your life and this one just might be different.” despite his teasing, he offered you the bottle. It did in fact not taste any different. It still tasted like piss.

“Nah, still rank.”

“Shame, that, really.”

You grinned. He smirked.

The tour bus was now filled. The four key members of the band: James, Sirius, Remus and Pete, who you’d finally remembered the name of and the rest of the members of your new team. Oh! And the support band, who you kept forgetting about, The Valkyries. Lovely girls, all of them. It tickled you somewhat that James and Lily were in rival bands. And, that some how they’d persuaded the rivals to support them. The roadies with you had mostly known the Marauders since school, which inevitably led to you feeling like an outcast. It really struck home as they were all discussing stories from their youth. The road was a relentless treadmill of travel and you were provided no solace. Until a small voice called your name.

“You busy?” Remus asked, poking his head into your bunk.

“Trying to be.” you joked, smiling over at him. He looked ridiculously oversized compared to the glorified caravan.

“Don’t think you aren’t welcome. They’re lovely. Sit up a bit, will you? My knees are killing I need to sit down.” you sat up, as he instructed. He sat on the bunk opposite yours, you faced him directly. It was a little scary- his ability to practically read your mind.

“I’m sure they are, just having second thoughts, as always. Dunno, you lot all went to school together. So, just a bit of an outcast, yanno?” you whispered, emphasising this was for Remus’s ears only. He nodded his head, and then began to shake it.

“Y’not an outcast. Promise. They’ll all love you once they get to know you. Like Pads does, poor fucker can’t leave you alone.” you laughed; he smiled. It wasn’t a sympathetic smile; it was genuine.

“I love Sirius too. Best friend you could ask for, really. It’s just such a shame he’s such a slag.” you joked. Remus laughed.

“Really is. How’ve you been since the incident?”

Remus’s hand was acting as a makeshift bobble as you threw up into the bar toilet. His other hand was rubbing small circles into your back.

“I hate him! I hate how much he can drink and- I hate this stupid bar.” you whined, in between sobs. Throwing up always made you cry.

“Shhh, yeah, I know. Come on, let it all out. Y’don’t need to cry, sweetheart, you’re fine. Just have to let it all out.” he cooed, still rubbing your back. God knows how you’d ended up exclusively talking to Remus the whole night and somehow still trying to out drink Sirius. You’d been fucked when the taller of the two showed up and now you were completely gone.

“This is so embarrassing. Sorry, I feel awful.” you threw up again after that.

“Got nothing to feel sorry about. Listen, been there done that with Sirius. Learnt my lesson the hard way too, plus I’m taller than you. Takes a lot more to get me drunk, yeah? He’s just insane. Don’t worry about it.” he comforted, not at all bothered by your sickness. Giving him a dopey smile, you were eternally grateful - even in your drunken state - that it was Remus you had befriended that night.

“Thank you, tell you what, I’ll do you a deal.” Remus nodded “Pinky promise if you ever get plastered I’ll do the same for you”. Holding out his pinky, Remus tilted his head at you. You locked pinkies with him for the first time (and most definitely not the last time).

“Good deal. Do you think we should get you home? Are you close? I’ll walk you if you are.” he offered, wrapping an arm around you to pull you up.

“Yeh, like ten minutes. Thank you, Remus, really. Bet you’re glad it’s me and not you, huh?” you joked, trying to add light to the situation. Leaning into him, you were relying solely on him to stay upright.

“Nah, know you’d do the same for me. Pinky promised it, didn’t you? And, it’s no problem. Think we’re going to be good friends.”

“Don’t bring that up around me. I’m still so embarrassed.” you complained, burying your head into your hands. Chuckling, Remus shook his head.

“Could’ve been worse, you could’ve declared your undying, unrelenting and pure love for Lily, whilst stood on top of the bar and using an empty vodka bottle as a microphone for the announcement. Poor Lils never recovered.” You lifted your head to give him the loudest laugh ever.

“They’re sooo cute. It’s upsetting.” you said, lying back down in your bunk. Remus watched your every move, subconsciously. “Oh, you said your knees were hurting. You get pains? Arthritis? My mum gets that in her knees, she just keeps moving, but I think it’s making it worse.” you rambled, turning your head to face him.

“Oh, yeah, just chronic pains, really. Just try and rest as often as possible.” he explained, stretching out his legs across the two bunks. His legs fell atop your own, now creating a bridge between the gap in the bunks. You smiled over at him.

“Must suck, huh? Well, let me know if I can help. Tour isn’t really resting.” you offered, giving him a big smile.

“Yeah, thank you, speaking of tour we aren’t far off Glasgow now.” he stated, peering out the window and then down at his watch.

“I’m ecstatic.” you stated sarcastically as your stomach twisted with nerves. Telling you not to worry, the sandy haired man gave you a smile that only made your stomach twist further.

The venue was a shit hole. A complete and utter shit hole. The ceiling had a badly patched up leak, which had almost destroyed Pete’s copy of the setlist. The reason Sirius had been so desperate to get you on his staff was because you specialised in drums - his instrument, of course. You’d managed to get everything set up relatively quickly. Carefully, you began to tighten the cymbals, listening for the correct pitch and length of the ring. Humming as you worked, you stopped every so often to admire the work of the rest of the team. Frank, who specialised in strings, was particularly impressive. He had finished up rather quickly and moved on to help his girlfriend, Alice, with getting everything ready for vocals. It seemed everyone here, but you had the perfect relationship. James and Lily were a lifetimes worth supply food for the green eyed monster. Frank and Alice were just as cute, but less well known as they weren’t in the limelight.

“All good?” he shouted over at you. You gave him a thumbs up and smiled over at Alice, who was fighting with some duct tape and a wire. Everything was all good for you, at the moment.

Finally, you finished up the final checks and placed a backup pair of sticks beside Sirius’s chair. It was then onto sound checks, all went well. You actually really quite liked the Marauders music. With inspiration from bands like The Clash and The Jam it’s hard to make a bad sound. He was weird in that he’d always carry around his sticks before the show, believing it would bring him good luck. In fact, in the first show you found out all the boys weird pre-show rituals. Pete laid down on the couch and threw chocolate raisins into his mouth. James clung onto Lily ever so slightly more than usual and insisted on drinking a shot of olive oil. As the lead singer he swore upon it for lubricating the vocal cords. You nearly gagged when you watched him do it. Whereas, Remus sat outside, cigarette in one hand and a cadburys chocolate bar in the other.

Trying to escape the rest of the boys, you ended up going outside and bumping into Remus during this. Quenching your thirst for normality, you couldn’t help your next actions. “Oh, sorry, hope I’m not interrupting.” you stated, giving him a small smile as you gravitated towards him.

“Nah, take it you saw James’s shot?” he said, before taking a long drag from the cigarette. Wincing, you looked at him with pure disgust in your eyes. “No I get it, can’t be around him when he does it either. Makes my jitters worse.”

“Christ, you don’t look nervous at all. Good poker face. Your sound check was really incredible though. James performs like Joe Strummer, it’s funny. You’re good, really fit the part of Paul, huh?” there was an unspoken message behind fitting the part of Paul. The bassist of the Clash and the so called good looking one of the group (as stated by their drummer, Topper). You thought the same about Remus.

“You calling us Clash tributes? Also, he humps less than Joe.” You laughed. Full force laughter left your lungs as you keeled over in genuine disbelief. Snickering, Remus looked down at you, a little scared you’d collapse on the floor and knock yourself out. You went to speak, but the words were drowned out in laughter. “That tickled you, dinnit?” he mumbled, dropping his cigarette and crushing it below his foot. The shout of ‘Five minutes till you’re on!’ snapped you out of your laughter. Grinning up at Remus, you tilted your head.

“Break a leg!”

“It’s not the theatre.”

“Oh, good luck.”

“Thank you.” he replied, smirking down at you. He pushed the final piece of his chocolate bar into your hand before walking inside for the ‘team talk’. Time seemed to move at the speed of light whenever the lanky man was around. You found yourself completely lost in everything about him. Seriously, you couldn’t believe how long Sirius had deprived you of this perfect man.

Frank had told you whilst you were setting up that the band always had a talk before going on stage. The talk often consisted of: “James don’t cry and don’t fuck up” from Sirius and Remus; “Dodge bottles, whatever you do don’t get hit please you’ll look stupid.” as the general message to the whole band and “Jump around”, which was mostly directed to Peter and Remus. Frank had also warned you about the dangers that came from within the crowd. Police. Famously, punk music was viewed as being quite aggressive; it ended up being the roadies job to make sure fighting and dancing could be differentiated. Sirius hadn’t told you about that part whilst advertising the job. However, now wasn’t the time to take offence.

Erupting like a volcano, the crowd filled the rotting venue with noise. You watched the boys sprint on stage. All leather and tight fitting trousers.

James really did look like Joe Strummer when he performed and Remus was right about his comparison too. Sirius looked truly ecstatic whenever he performed and the energy brought about by the show pulled Peter from his shell. And Remus, oh, Remus. He was entirely perfect.

Catching yourself, you blinked and shook your head. You’d met this man three times, including the current interactions and here you were, fawning over him. Sure, it’d get you in a little bit of trouble, but what harm is a crush. Right? Not much harm compared to glass bottles and punk rockers. Oh, and a leak in the ceiling with wires messily taped to the floor.

Bang.

[gabessquishytum]

This has been haunting my head forever, but as we all know Robert Smith was the leading inspiration for Dream in the comics with more than a bit of Neil sprinkled in there (and a few other goth rock bands like Bauhaus' Peter Murphy) and I just can't get over the image of a goth rockstar Dream.

It's the late 70s, and our boy Dream is riding a creative high of LSD and pedal effects to the top of the pops. They're calling the band he fronts, name and members are up to you or whoever takes this idea on, Goth bc they're too dark for New Wave but are just upbeat enough to steer clear of Televison's particular brand of Post-Punk. It's a newer label but a fitting one considering how dour and moody the genre has gotten since Ian Curtis's death. One he despises as he claims he's very happy with his current success and how his life is going.

But he's not happy. He hates playing to the newly forming stereotype of his fans, but he isn't. Celebrity Marriages hardly ever last and his relationship with his novelist wife is crumbling around him. He loves his son but the touring schedule is killing all of his free time. He's also pretty deep into substance abuse but he wouldn't admit it to his big sister let alone the random journo who has a camera in his face while he's trying to catch a 5:30 am flight to start his newest tour. He's just burnt out and creatively stuck as the label tries to pigeonhole him into this new subgenre, which he doesn't want anymore. Life, his life, can't be doom and gloom forever even though that's where it looks like it's heading. Forever being hailed as the Nightmare King.

Meanwhile, three radio stations over, Hob Gadling is desperately trying to hang onto life. He's a bit older now than when he first broke out onto the music scene as a rambunctious coat rider of the Sex Pistols, but he's still going strong. Punk has always been his outlet. Life sucks and you keep on living despite it. It tried to kill him not long after he debuted with substance use, but he powered through it and got clean. His wife died in childbirth, but he stuck around to raise his son. He even took a three-year hiatus and completely missed how much the sound had changed from his younger years. Even as post-punk has risen in popularity and the friends he knew have either died or changed their sound completely, he won't give up hope! Punk's not dead and neither is he. No matter how long his hair gets or if he grows out of his leather jacket.

The two meet rather coincidentally. Hob just happens to be opening for Dream on the Europe leg of his tour. Unsurprisingly the tension around Dream's band has become a powder keg and when he finally snaps and fires his guitarist, his bassist also leaves. With half the band gone, Dream considers calling it quits right then and there. Fuck the new album, fuck the last fifteen or so dates. He wants to go home. But Hob sees how close they are to finishing the tour and puts his foot down. They will finish the tour! So he offers up his services to Dream. He's not bad with a guitar and if Dream can cover the bass, then he'll play all night if he has to. Because out there on stage? That's life and he wants to keep making people happy and give them something that might transcend time and space. To never die bc his name is there among the annuls of rock history.

And in time, Dream will come around to his new friend. He will learn to appreciate the zest for performing and living his new friend has. He will also think he has the greatest body known to man and will forever laugh at the terribly done anarchy A Hob has tattooed on his ass, but that's neither for here or there. For now, Dream pulls himself together and gets his bass out from the dark pits of hell the roadies call gear storage. For the show must go on.

Oh god I want an entire novel length story around this. It’s fantastic! I have so many thoughts about these two!!

Hob is falling in love with all the new sounds that he’s hearing. He spent his time on his hiatus being a suburban dad, and now he’s back on the scene is just feels amazing. He can’t get enough of Roxy Music and David Bowie and Elvis Costello. And he’s determined to drag himself back up among those names! He’s got so many ideas of where punk can go! And he’s fascinated by Dream and his band. The lyrics are a little dark and wallowy, but Hob understands that actually people need to hear that. Life in the UK isn’t easy, particularly for young people. They need something loud and desperate and real. Little does he know, Dream feels like what he’s doing is so far away from being real. He feels likes such a fraud. He can’t get off the hamster wheel except by shooting up and passing out.

Hob recognises all of this in approximately 0.5 seconds after meeting Dream. It makes him pretty sad, but he’s determined that he’ll lift Dream out of his funk. If nothing else, he’ll make him love music again.

So when Hob said he was OK with a guitar, he was lying - he's actually a bit of a genius, and it's fair to say that Dream falls a little bit in love with him about half way through the sound check. Instead of hiding in the dressing room and licking his wounds over the band breaking up, he actually watches as Hob opens for him. Hob is very classic punk, it's all very "fuck the government, fuck me up the arse" kind of stuff, but Dream doesn't get bored for a single second. Hob is just that entertaining, and his riffs are insane. Dream itches to write a song for him. And when Hob ends the set with a jokey little song that his five year old son allegedy wrote the lyrics for (lil Robyn is very punk, just like his daddy) Dream’s eyes actually get a bit misty. It's probably all the smoke.

And there's really no time to get emotional! Dream’s drummer, Constantine, thankfully didn't walk out with the rest of them. So somehow, with Hob’s virtuosic guitar skills and sheer determination, plus Dream’s refusal to fail yet again, they actually make a really decent show. Dream feels a tingle of the old spark that he used to get when he first started out - it probably has something to do with the way Hob upends a bottle of water all over his head half way through the show and grins like a maniac.

After the show they crash in a local hotel. Hob calls his kid from the payphone and Dream wishes that he had the courage to do the same. Instead he takes some pills so he doesn't have to feel the high from the show gradually wearing off into nothingness. He doesn't know why Hob comes and sits next to him in the dark, pressing against him from thigh to shoulder. He stays for the whole of Dream’s trip, in fact, humming something quiet and classic. Dream feels quite ashamed of himself, and for the first time he thinks that maybe he'd feel better without the drugs. Maybe.

As the tour gets off to a slow start, Dream starts to notice that Hob is having some kind of positive effect on him. Just little thing. They get breakfast together, so Dream actually eats something, which is unusual. Their little arguments don't get out of hand, because Hob never lets them escalate. When Dream is angry and spitting at the world, Hob is sure to point of something positive. Not that Hob doesn't get sad, too - he just deals with it differently. He goes for long walks, and turns off the news when it gets bad. He gets himself a snack when he's irritable, and laughs about it afterwards.

Dream writes him a near impossible guitar solo and it feels like a "thank you".

They have a sweet, unexpected first kiss. It's 2am and they're standing at the edge of the road, waiting for a mechanic to come out to their broken down tour bus. There's no one around to see, so Dream rests his head on Hob’s shoulder. He's sore, and weary. Hob turns his head slightly and tucks an arm around him, and it just happens. They kiss. It is, of course, the first of many.

And you can bet that Dream kisses that anarchy tattoo a million time, too.

[albaandbatty]

Dazzling Carla Gugino at Toronto Film Festival premiere for The Friend (2024)

[lezstat]

ok i feel validated to go fucking feral over s3 now. who do i have to start dreamstat style haunting in order to make Official Tour Photographer Louis du Lac happen? it’s what👏we👏deserve👏 the people yearn for hot roadie-boyfriend-ex-husband LDPDL

[hellhoundanarchy]

I Bet On Losing Dogs

I was tame, I was gentle till the circus life made me mean....

NAMES:

Anarchy (preferred)

Riot / Ri (preferred)

Arachne

Carrion

Phoenix / Nyx

Cerberus / Rust

Archivist / The Hunt

Hound

Muzzle / Muzz (preferred)

Outlaw

Sleater

Rorscach

Crowley / Crow (preferred)

Renegade

Ripper

Anthrax

Sangre / Bloodlust

Judas

Behemoth / Moth

Diablo

Roadkill / Roadie

Don't you worry folks, we took out all its teeth.

Pronouns:

It/its (preferred)

He/him

Xt/xts

X/x

Bite/bites

Snarl/snarls

Claw/claws

Who's afraid of little old me?....

Characters & Species:

Hellhounds, demon dogs, dog-shaped monstrosities (all forms)

The Wolf from Dimension 20: Neverafter

Houndour, Houndoom, Mega Houndoom

Belgian Malinois

Demon

German Shepherd

Doberman

Rottweiler

Cane Corso

Anatolian Shepherd

Feral dog, mutt

The Thing

Cerberus

Arcanine

Lycanroc

Mightyena

Zorua, Zoroark

Greavard, Houndstone

You should be.

Playlist:

Teeth - 5 Seconds of Summer

Sangre por Sangre - HELLYEAH

Sit / Stay - POPPY

Sympathy for The Parents - Marilyn Manson

A Little Piece of Heaven - Avenged Sevenfold

Hungry Like The Wolf - Duran Duran

STARTARIOT - HELLYEAH

AMERICAN HORROR SHOW - SNOW WIFE

Always - Saliva

Freak On A Leash - Korn

Alpha - Little Destroyer

Fake It - Seether

Bad Dog - Dog Park Dissidents

I Wanna Be Your Dog - Joan Jett & The Blackhearts

Love Bites (So Do I) - Halestorm

Coming Undone - Korn

I wanna snarl and show you just how disturbed this has made me.

Communities & Labels:

Dogboy (preferred)

Nonhuman / unhuman/ alterhuman

Otherkin / otherhearted / therian / past life

Pup play

Haunt actor

Transsexual / transgender / gender non-conforming

Vulture culture / taxidermy / taxidermist

Punk / goblincore / naturepunk / goblinpunk / crowcore / metalhead

[glass-needles-and-futurisms]

somehow this is this first I'm learning of this video

It is a gold mine of out of context Muse clips! We have:

a lovely day at the beach

tiny underwater rat Matt staring up at a shark

headbanging roadies

the boys going into an amusement park haunted house ride

Dom being terrible at golf

polite applause

shirtless Matt... feeding birds?

this