#heels and drumsticks

[amourane]

love notes in music

pairing: drummer!theodore nott x rich girl!reader

genre: fluff, modern au

w/c: 1.2k

summary: you always got what you wanted and the extremely hot drummer was no exception.

warnings: none

a/n: i am here to push forward the drummer theo agenda because yes yes and yes

Trouble was coming. You could feel it in your bones. Maybe it was the extra shot of espresso you had today or the wild predictions in your horoscope, but you definitely sensed something brewing. It didn’t help that Enzo had interrupted your lunch and dragged you back to campus for god knows what reason.

"Enzo if this is another one of your tricks to get me to dance with you it's not going to work. Remember what happened last time?" 

You dug your heels into the grass as your best friend continued to drag you across the field. The campus auditorium came into view and you frowned. There was no reason for you to even be there today so why was Enzo tugging you along like bait?

“Yes Y/n I remember what happened last time.”

"I fractured my ankle and I do not want to wear a cast ever again. I couldn't match the darn thing with any of my clothes." You huffed out a breath at the memory of the ugly accessory that the doctors had insisted on your wearing despite your protests. 

Admittedly you were a bit of a spoiled brat but at least you knew that you were. Going to a normal university was one of your father’s choices. You would have never gone somewhere so shabby on a daily basis. Truth be told on the first day, you were actually planning to ditch and go grab a chai latte. Then you bumped into Enzo accidentally and the two of you seemed to click. 

It was a good friendship. He’d always be able to tell you when you were being a tad bit annoying because of your rich girl behaviour and you’d be able to join him in his multiple activities. One which led to the infamous ankle incident. 

“Don’t worry Y/n, you’ll still be able to wear that Gucci jacket-”

“It was an Armani jacket.”

“Yeah yeah.” Enzo pushed open the door to the auditorium, and you were immediately greeted by the sound of drums pounding heavily. The amplified sound hurt your ears. “Welcome to the band.” 

“Um...Enzo, do I need to remind you of the time when I broke a guitar?” You nervously watched the live band on stage. Technically it wasn’t your fault that the guitar broke. Enzo never did tell you how to properly use it. “And when did you join a band?”

“Please don’t remind me Y/n also I didn’t actually join the band I���m more of a-”

“Hey Enzo!” 

The music stopped. Your head whipped around and your eyes nearly fell out of their sockets at the absolute hunk that had just shouted. His dark hair seemed to glow under the spotlight making him look like some sort of angel. Your mouth ran dry when he waved a drumstick at you. His fingers looked as if they’d been carved out of stone. And his biceps. God his biceps. The guy was ripped. He was a drummer as well. What was more sexy than a drummer?! 

“Hey Theo!” Enzo, your backstabbing friend who knew your weakness for hot boys with dark hair that played the drums, embraced him in a tight hug. “The practice is going well.”

“I know!” 

Good god, his eyes were like beautiful whirlpools of love. The two boys started talking animatedly about something to do with music. There were a few words thrown here and there that you recognised but other than that you stood watching wide-eyed at the conversation in front of you. 

“Who’s the pretty lady?”

Theo turned to face you and seeing his face up close only made you want to kiss him more. He really was gorgeous. You cleared your throat, straightening your skirt. “I’m Y/n, Enzo’s best friend, and you are?”

“Theo.” He offered you his hand, which you shook. Wow, his hands were soft. You were almost jealous. Time to buy new hand cream. “Hey, I’ve heard of you. You’re that girl who nearly broke her foot when dancing.”

Your cheeks flushed. Was this your legacy now? The girl that nearly broke her foot while dancing? How horrible. You would much rather be known for your stunning looks or incredible fashion sense. 

“Actually I twisted my ankle but who’s keeping track?” 

“Y/n isn’t the best dancer or guitarist.” Enzo chimed in. “She’s really good at maths though, she’s my second brain.” He said it as if you were simply another organ in his body, but you let it slide, trying to make a good impression on the drummer boy.

Theo chuckled, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Well, it's good to know Enzo has a brain to rely on."

You giggled at his remark, feeling the tension ease a bit. "Yeah, he needs all the help he can get."

"Hey!" Enzo protested, a small pout forming. "I'll have you know I'm quite capable on my own."

"Sure you are." You teased, nudging him playfully. Then, turning back to Theo, you asked, "So, what kind of music do you guys play?"

Theo's face lit up with enthusiasm. "We're a rock band, mostly. Some original stuff, a few covers. We're actually looking for a new guitarist. Interested?" He winked, clearly joking.

You shook your head, laughing. "After what happened last time? I think I'll pass. I'm more of an appreciator of talent than a participant. But I might be persuaded to attend a private concert."

Theo laughed, a rich, warm sound that made your heart flutter. "A private concert, huh? I think we can arrange that."

Enzo rolled his eyes. "Oh boy, here we go."

Ignoring Enzo, you leaned a bit closer to Theo, your voice dropping to a playful whisper. "So, Theo, do you always look this good while playing the drums, or is today a special occasion?"

Theo raised an eyebrow, his smile turning into a smirk. "I guess you'll have to come to more practices to find out."

You gave him a once-over, pretending to think it over. "Maybe. I do have a very busy schedule, you know.”

“Sounds like a yes to me. We’ve got a gig this weekend, free up some space in that glamorous life of yours and come.

You tried your best to conceal your excitement at the fact you had just scored yourself a date with a very hot drummer. Forget about trouble today was definitely the best day of your life. 

"Alright, I'll be there." You agreed, feeling a flutter of excitement in your stomach. "But only if you promise me a private drum lesson afterward."

"It's a deal. I'll make sure you get the VIP treatment." Theo’s grin only widened and you felt your heart stutter at the sight. He really was handsome and if you didn’t know how he was single but that was good news for you.

“I’ve got some studying to catch up on but I’ll hold you to that.” You offered him a wave goodbye as you made your way out of the auditorium with Enzo. Theo simply smiled, reciprocating your action. 

A giddy feeling overtook your body as the sun shone down on you. There were millions and millions of butterflies soaring in your stomach and you could only squeal at the idea of seeing Theo in the next few days. Before your best friend could say anything you spun on your heels, this time dragging him along with you.

“We need to go shopping right now, I need a new outfit for the weekend.” 

Enzo could only groan as his feet automatically moved. It was going to be a long day.

[frost-queen]

Tired of giving you all of me (Reader x Rodrick Heffley)

Requested by: me Forever tag:@missmelodramatic, @alex--awesome--22, @ellie-does-the-posts, @floatlosers, @merlieve , @queen-of-books , @glimmering-darling-dolly , @denkisclown , @wildieflower , @meyocoko , @justanothercoco, @subjecta13-thefangirl , @m-rae23 , @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr , @swampything07, @melsunshine , @panhoeofmanyfandoms , @venomsvl , @the-uncoordinated-house-cat , @rosecentury , @imagines-by-her, @evilcr0ne , @vviolynn , @niktwazny303 , @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 , @markive-m

Summary: You've had a crush on Rodrick for a while now, you finally dared to go ask him something. When Rodrick seems to invite you more for bandstuff. It takes you a while to finally see he was just using you for his own good. Rodrick realizing it too late that he can't think of anyone else. [idk if this will even be popular or that there is still a demand for, but ever since I saw the movie again I needed to get the idea out, so if this is only for me, so be it] - (N/Y/N stands for not your name)

You were very nervous. Very nervous about approaching him and asking for a shirt. Rodrick Heffley stood by his locker with two of his band members. Laughing and goofing around with his drumsticks. Pretending to punch the guitarist in the stomach whilst laughing loud. Collecting all your courage, you got in motion.

First hesitant but then you were already walking, it would seem idiotic to turn on your heel and leave. Only having to endure your poor decision. Heart thumping loud as you clutched the book in your hand a bit too hard against your chest.

Your feet stopped behind him as he still had no clue of your presence behind him. Taking a deep breath, you went to tap him on the shoulder. Rodrick stopped laughing, taking a half spin toward you on his heels. His eyes widened briefly before they settled with boredness.

"Yes?"- Rodrick said with a hard stare it made you want to crawl away. -"Hi Rodrick... I...I was thinking if I could get a shirt?"- you asked with all the confidence you could find. Which wasn't a lot. Rodrick scratched the back of his head confused with a drumstick. -"From your band."- you flapped out.

Swallowing nervously afterwards. -"How much are they?"- you then asked when he remained silent. He looked over his shoulder to his bandmates before letting his arm rest against the lockers. -"N/Y/N right?"- he said totally getting your name wrong. -" It's Y/n actually."- you corrected shyly.

Not that he was listening. -"Look our shirts are practically sold out."- he told you with a cool attitude. -"Really?"- you questioned, so gullible in believing it. Rodrick puffed loud, waving his drumstick down. -"Yeah."- he said as you saw his drum mates snicker behind him.

"But if you really must have one."- Rodrick spoke unbothered. -"I think I can find a spare one at home."- he let you know. -"Okay cool."- you responded with a shy smile. You turned around, feeling as hot as a stove. Rodrick puffed sarcastically, lowering his elbow from against the locker. Turning back around, he grabbed the guitarist by his neck, pulling him low to give his head a good rub. 

Counting the cash in your hands, you walked up to the Heffley household. Unsure how much Rodrick would charge you for a shirt, you came prepared. Ready to spend to one hundred bucks just for a shirt from him. You hated how expensive your crush on him was getting. Tugging the money away, you rose your hand to knock. Three firm knocks, making you take a step back. From behind the door you heard commotion.

Making you plaster up a smile. -"I'm already going."- a voice said whilst opening the door. A young boy answered the door, looking you up and down. You figured it must be Greg. Rodrick's younger brother. -"It's a girl."- he shouted to someone to the right. There was a loud gasp as you felt a bit uncomfortable.

The door got opened more as mrs. Heffley pushed Greg aside with a surprised look. -"Hello mrs. Heffley. My name is Y/n, I'm in Rodrick's class. Is he here?"- you introduced yourself. Greg started laughing as his mother nudged him hard in the elbow.

Her eyes seemed to lit up as she held her finger up. Almost trying her best not to smile so over exciting. -"Rodrick dear, there's a girl to see you."- his mom called out at the foot of the stairs. Greg kept staring at you questionable. -"What did he do?"- Greg asked curious. 

"Nothing."- you replied, moving your hands behind your back to occupy them. -"He paid you right?"- Greg assumed. -"Nope."- you anwered with a shake of your head. -"No way a girl wants to talk to Rodrick willingly."- Greg let out laughing. -"Rodrick!"- His mother called out again, more annoyed now.

You heard a door slam followed by loud thumping. -"What?"- Rodrick called out annoyed, scratching his hair. -"Rodrick."- his mom made clear with a nudge to you at the door. Rodrick's gaze went to you. He then immediately rushed back upstairs. -"Rodrick"- His mom yelled out as his behavior.

"Auch."- Greg said to you, walking off snickering. Waiting here for a shirt made you feel scammed. Like you were waiting for nothing, only to be fooled and laughed at. Lowering your gaze, you were about to turn back when there were more loud stomps. Rodrick rushed down the stairs, walking up to the door.

"N/Y/N right."- he was wrong again. -"Y/n."- you corrected him with a polite smile. Rodrick puffed unamused. -"Got my money?"- he said as you immediately grabbed for your money. -"How much is it?"- you asked as Rodrick's eyes widened on seeing the money in your hands.

He plucked the cash from your hands. All of it. Too bothered with the money, he threw the shirt at your face. It blinded you as a second later you heard the door slam. Taking the shirt down, you took a look at it. It was an ugly grey shirt with löader diaper written on it with a marker.

"You could've given me a nicer color!"- you shouted at the door. How ripped off you felt. Sighing soft, you went down the driveway back to your bicycle. Placing the shirt in the front basket, you started cycling home as the sun had already set.

Thinking about how Rodrick clearly had no interest in you and ripped you off by taking all your money, made you cry. Wiping your eyes constantly to keep your vision clear. All that for a boy you like. Something you were never daring enough to do something about it. 

The next day at school, you were sitting in class waiting for the teacher to enter. Gaze low on your books till you saw a set of black painted nails set on your desk. Moving your gaze up, you met up with Rodrick Heffley. -"N/Y/N."- he said lowering his head down keep a low voice. -"Y/n."- you sighed out at once again your name being wrong.

"Löader diaper has a gig tonight, can you come?"- he asked, looking over his shoulder if anyone was listening in. Your eyes lit up, curling up a smile. -"Really?"- you replied trying to dim your excitement. -"Yeah income fee is 10 bucks."- he told you. -"Didn't you already took enough money from me."- you pointed out at the hundred bucks he claimed ownership over.

Rodrick puffed loud, looking away. You kept glaring at him to make your point. -"I'm already giving you a fan discount."- he responded tapping on your book. -"You're a leech."- you muttered out. Rodrick smiled tauntingly.

The teacher walked in, dismissing Rodrick to his desk. You could barely pay attention. Constantly thinking of the upcoming gig. Of Rodrick Heffley actually having asked for your presence. Wanting another fan there. Unable to stop yourself from smiling, you were glad Rodrick sat somewhere far behind you. 

For the gig, you had put on the band shirt. Trying to make it as flattering as you could. You arrived at the gig after having gotten the text from Rodrick. Waiting by the entrance for him. You received some looks, all looking at your shirt.

Not the good kind of looks. Jumping back, the white van hit the brakes fast in front of you. The windows were down as the guitarist thumped his hand against the car door. -"Shirt girl!"- he called out. The comment made you roll your eyes, but still it was better than Rodrick giving you each time a different name.

Rodrick had gotten out, opening the side door, revealing another band member laying down with his legs up. Rodrick whistled loud calling you over. You went over to him. He took one glance at your shirt before grabbing a bag and shoving it in your hands.

"This needs to get backstage."- he said shoving another bag in your hands. -"Ro...Rodrick"- you breathed out confused. He gave you in each hand, held by a few fingers two more bags. -" Thanks N/Y/N."- he said getting it wrong again with a pat against your cheek. 

You wanted to correct him, but had slightly enough of it. Rodrick motioned for you to get a move on. Sighing loud, you carefully made your way backstage. Trying hard not to trip. The last few meters you tumbled forwards as the bags plopped out of your hands.

Exhaling loud, you were out of breath. Returning to them, you got handed over more bags and gear. Going back and forth... alone with no help from them. Exhausted and worn out, you made your way to the stage. Needing a moment to see the room was close to empty.

Just some drunks, some weird gathering club that clearly couldn't book another venue and a guy already starting to clean up. You were the only one, who moved to the front of the stage. Looking uncomfortable around. The band got on stage as Rodrick went to sit behind the drums. They introduced themselves as you were the only one clapping.

Rodrick started to slam the drums as they played one of their favorite songs. You tried to ignore the drunks behind you, enjoying their gig. They played a few songs till the guy cleaning up cut the lights, setting them in darkness. He didn't even apologize as Rodrick suddenly stopped playing.

Staring saddened in front of him. Taking his drumsticks, he left the stage in anger. You quickly made your way backstage. Seeing Rodrick scratch the drumstick in his hair. -"You were amazing."- you complimeted them. Rodrick stopped, eyes widening at you.

He than laughed loud. -" Pack up N/Y/N."- wrong again. -"It's Y/n"- you made clear with a glare. -"Whatever." - he answered letting the drumstick twirl between his fingers. Sighing loud, you collected the bags. This time the other bandmates helped out with the heavier gear. Rodrick waiting in the car, behind the wheel.

After the car was loaded, he drove off without offering you a ride home or a goodbye. Sighing soft, you went home alone. Ever since the gig, you got pulled up more and more by Rodrick to do things for him. Charming you each time with something fun till he made you do everything. Basically becoming their roadie for everything. 

Rodrick sat at diner, discussing the upcoming talent show, he wants to join with his band. It could be his major breakthrough. Greg snorted loud, receiving a stomp underneath the table from him. -"Auch."- Greg called out. Rodrick mimicked his pathetic whining as their parents sighed loud. -"So Rodrick... this talentshow... you'll need a lot of preparation right."- his dad started to gear up a conversation. -"Duh."- Rodrick answered with a full mouth.

"I'm so prepared for our breakthrough, I'm making more shirts."- Rodrick let out. -"Oh."- his mother responded intrigued. Rodrick lowered his fork. -"I'm letting Y/n do all the work."- he answered chuckling. His father's fork dropped, clattering against his plate. Staring with wide eyes of shock at his wife. -"Hold up."- his mom began.

"Are you telling me you are using Y/n to do your work?"- she made clear. -"Yeah."- Rodrick replied obviously. His father threw his hands up. -"Wow."- Greg said dramatically. Rodrick looked at everyone not getting what was wrong about it. Rodrick's phone rang as the name popped up on the screen. His mom taking a quick glance at who was calling him. Minion. Rodrick got up, picking up the phone. -"N/Y/N."- he said all smug. He heard you sigh on the other side.

"Are you even trying?"- you asked him at once again calling you wrong. -"How are my shirts?"- Rodrick asked avoiding your question. -"Done... I'll drop them off later."- you yawned loud after your sentance. -"Cool."- Rodrick answered before ending the call. 

You arrived at the Heffley household with two bags full of hand-made Löaded diaper t-shirts. Rodrick opened the door without any acknowledgement to you. He took a bag from you, looking inside. -"How many are there?"- he asked. -"40."- you told him with a smile. Rodrick dropped his gaze at you.

"40? I asked you to make 70."- Rodrick called out. -"No you didn't."- you replied sure you were right. Rodrick sighed taking out his phone. -"There, see."- he showed you the texts between him and you. Your eyes widening at the nametag. Minion. In horror you stared at it, not even caring for the number. -"What?"- Rodrick called out, looking back at his phone.

"Is that what I am to you?"- you shouted. Your sudden loud voice startled him. -"Minion. You're just using me!"- you threw the bag full of shirts at him. It hit him in the chest as he caught it before it would fall to the ground. -"What is the big deal about it."- he answered unbothered.

It pained you to finally see the reality. Having not wanting to see it for so long. Always telling yourself that he liked you. That you were only helping him out cause he wanted to be close to you. Turns out you were wrong. Unable to control yourself, you started crying.

"The deal?"- you called out. -"You're using me to do your dirty work and I stupidely let you. I let you use me because I wanted to be close to you."- you cried out in a state of hysteria. -"Because I'm in love with you!"- you confessed wiping your tears away agressivly. Rodrick staring with wide eyes back at you, unsure what to say.

You threw the second bag of shirts at him as well. Rodrick tried ducking for it, but it hit his shoulder when he ducked to the side. -"You are the worst Rodrick Heffley!"- you shouted wanting to hit him but your hand lingured in the air. Rodrick having turned his head, ready to receive the impact.

Yet it never came. Slowly opening his eyes to you. -"Get my goddamn name right!"- was the final thing you shouted at him before running off. Crying so loud, you had to keep wiping your eyes dry to see something. Rodrick swallowed nervously, entering the house once more.

Greg jumped in front of him all jokingly. -"Ha! You loser."- Greg laughed out, making fun of his brother. Rodrick clenched his jaw, jumping at Greg. Pulling his head under his armpit out of angerness. Greg started calling it out for mercy as Rodrick gave him none.

"Rodrick!"- his mother shouted pulling at his shoulder. Rodrick let go of Greg with a loud huff. -"That's it!"- she called out when Greg taunted Rodrick once more. Rodrick nearly jumping at him to mess with him. -"No talent show for you!"- mrs. Heffley made clear.

"What? But it could be my great breakthrough."- Rodrick answered pleadingly. -"I am sick of your behavior and how you just treated Y/n is beyond how I raised you! You need to learn some respect Rodrick!"- she said as a final. Rodrick stomped up the stairs angered to his room. Slamming the door shut. Letting himself slide down against his wall. Palms pressed deep onto his eyes. Knees to chest as he felt at a sudden loss. 

Rodrick hated that his mom still made him come to the talentshow. He was waiting in the open room before being seated. He looked around, gaze stopping as he spotted you. He made the effort of wanting to greet you or talk to you. You locked eyes with him, giving him a glare. Before he could stop you, you walked off.

"Y/n..."- Rodrick said as it never reached you. Being ignored so obviously. Exhaling loud, he lowered his hand once more. Turning his head, he met up with his mother's gaze. A lot of sympathy in it. Rodrick shrugged her off, heading for the theater. He took his seat next to his mom at the outside.

He had a good view at backstage. Eyes widening as he saw his bandmates and Bill appear backstage. His eyes widened even more seeing you appear near them. -"Be right back."- Rodrick said slipping out of his seat. Making his way down to the stage to find a way backstage. -"What is going on?"- he called out confused. Bill laughed doofily. -"Are you playing without me?"- he asked feeling betrayed.

"Yeah."- Bill answered groovily. -"But I started the band."- Rodrick replied in shock they would play without him. -"That's rock and roll dude."- Bill told him. -"Oh and I took your minion too."- Bill let out. Rodrick's eyes widened with anger. Before he knew it, his fist swung at Bill's jaw. Bill tumbling to the ground.

"You stay the hell away from Y/n!"- he called out as his guitarist had to pull him back. -"Rodrick?"- you said confused approaching. You had left for a second to fetch them some water. Rodrick looked back at you with a gulp. He took as step closer to you, saddened to have being so stupid.

You set the waterbottles down, taking your leave. -"Y/n!"- Rodrick called out making you stop. -"I'm sorry..."- he apologized. You shook your head not wanting to hear it. -"You never are."- you told him. Rodrick ran up to you when you started to distance yourself from him. -"Y/n."- Rodrick repeated grabbing your wrist to pull you to a stop. -"I'm tired of being used by you."- you called out. You wanted to turn around when Rodrick took your other wrist as well, keeping you in place. -"I'm an idiot."- he confessed.

"An idiot for not seeing what was right in front of me. I shouldn't have used you or take you for granted. I'm really sorry about that Y/n but please don't hate me. That is the least thing I want."- he finished. Rolling your eyes at him, you puffed loud, turning away from him. Rodrick pulled you back to him. Lips crashing onto yours.

So caught up with you, he hadn't seen how he was on the stage. The curtains dropping as the kiss was displayed to the entire theater. There were gasps all around and muttering. The guitarist trying to get his attention. Rodrick retrieved his lips, looking shyly around at the peering eyes.

Annoyed, he pulled you backstage. Looking back at you, he snapped his finger in front of you. Seeing how frozen you had gotten from the kiss. -"Must I kiss you to unfreeze you Y/n?"- he teased with a chuckle. You immediately shook your head, hand pressing against his chest. Rodrick smiled moving a hand on your lower back to kiss you again. Not taking you for granted anymore.

------------------------------

Read more of my fics on my Masterlists!

[byuntrash101]

damnation of a saint (teaser)

pairing — nun!reader x sin of lust!seonghwa ft. ateez as the other sins

rating — smut | mdni

wc — ~13k (teaser is 1.2k)

synopsis — life is dull when you are an immortal being such as seonghwa. every day is the same and you live (or rather, merely exist) through the times crushed by the burden of boredom. until something new comes along in the form of a kind, compassionate and righteous newly ordained nun. and so the sin of lust makes it his personal mission to corrupt the purest of souls: yours.

release date — OUT!!! LINK HERE

nsfw tags under the cut

tags — heavy religious/blasphemous themes (don't read if you're uncomfy <3), inclusive writing (reader is not described), also reader is the embodiment of purity and selflessness, 20240127 hwa (will to power d1 in seoul), kinda slow burn kinda vibes, tensionnnnn, sooo much teasing, dom!hwa, also very sly demon!hwa, supernatural sex, corruption kink (obviously), masturbation (f), oral (f), the (un)holy trinity = teasing + begging + mind breaking, some light impact play, breath play, hair pulling, fingering (f), monster cock!hwa, size training, pet names (angel, love, darling, sweetheart), praising, degradation (slut, whore), dumbification, multiple orgasms (f), overstim and more to be revealed in the full version <3

a/n: consider this teaser as the moodboard of the fic <3 also im so excited to be reworking on my fave fic ever. hope you enjoy it too <3

ateez masterlist | navigation

Seonghwa was bored out of his mind. Like he had been for decades now, even centuries. He couldn’t remember what it was like to feel… well… anything at all really. And after years upon years of vegetating he didn’t care enough to even try anymore. He just laid there, endlessly staring blankly at the emptiness. He tapped his slender finger on his thigh, comfortably set on the bed of dark purple smoke he had materialized out of thin air.

He let out an audible annoyed groan as he was nonchalantly stretching out his long limbs which didn’t fail to catch the attention of the others.

“What’s wrong?” Yeosang asked as he was feasting on some delicious meal he poofed out magically. He didn’t even take a second to look up the bucket full of chicken drumsticks, wrapping his greasy fingers around the bone and eyeing the meat like one would their life long partner. But then again, that wasn’t too far from the truth for Yeosang.

“I’m bored” Seonghwa complained, pushing his long silky black hair back on his forehead and choosing to ignore Yeosang’s lack of interest, dragging out the word on his tongue, transmitting his state of utter apathy to the others.

“Why don’t you go up and play with the Humans?” Mingi suggested while checking himself out in the mirror, readjusting his bangs and sliding his sunglasses up the bridge of his nose before striking a pose to himself, remaining completely self absorbed.

Once again, Seonghwa wasn’t getting much attention from his counterparts but he was somewhat used to it when it came to Mingi.

“What’s the point? They are no fun anyways!” Seonghwa sat up straight and crossed his long elegant legs on the cloud of cotton like smoke.

“Why?” Jongho asked, unlike the others he deigned looking in Seonghwa’s direction with somewhat surprised eyes. “You used to love going around and breaking up happy marriages, luring men and women in with your charms… That was always fun!” He said a little sluggishly, but still with as much enthusiasm as he could muster.

“Yeah… Maybe it was…” Seonghwa replied. “Two millenniums ago…” Another prolonged sigh. “When everything still felt fresh.” He got up from the comfortable cloud of smoke, pacing the endless void as his heels clacked and echoed with each step.  “Now I know that Humans are only self centered vile creatures who only claim to have better morals than us because they are scared of the consequences that inevitably ensue from succumbing to their primal desires. When in fact, all they want is to eat, kill, have sex or not do anything at all. They are nothing short of underdeveloped, unevolved, spineless piles of meat” 

“Meat? Where?” Yeosang said, finally lifting his head from the bucket of fried chicken to look around, eyes rounded in panic.

Not a single one of them reacted except Mingi who side eyed him with disdain before returning to more important matters at hand such as swapping the aviator sunglasses for narrower, more rectangular ones.

“That’s not entirely false” Jongho concluded, shrugging, easily giving up on the idea of comforting Seonghwa.

“I mean where’s the fun if you can’t break their minds to give in?” Seonghwa placed both hands on Jongho's shoulders, slightly shaking him while the latter lifelessly swayed back and forth. “What is the point if they don’t resist the call of evil? If you can’t erode their will like a rock made smooth by the incessant beating of the waves of the cruel sea.” Seonghwa huffed in a quiet, defeated voice, letting go of Jongho's shoulders to let his arms hang at his side while the other one stared at him blankly.

“Hm… okay” Jongho said before slipping off Seonghwa's reach to take his place on the fluffy bed of purple smoke, crashing head first onto the soft cloud.

A silence settled for what seemed like a long moment, even for them, immutable creatures to whom the very concept of time couldn't grasp at their permanence.

“Well you never tried with that girl…” Wooyoung said, slithering his way to Seonghwa without a sound. He had been watching the scene unfold from afar up until then. “What was her name already?” He snapped his fingers and looked to the side trying to access his memory. He turned to Mingi for help but he was too busy looking through the mirror, slipping on yet another dangling necklace and smirking, satisfied at the results.  Wooyoung then tried his luck with Yeosang but he now had his face buried in a huge bowl of chicken broth, the empty bucket of fried chicken abandoned and slurping up a big mouthful of noodles in a rather unpleasant way. “Jongho?” he called, finally settling for the one that looked almost passed out on the bed of smoke, but still this one wielded the most positive result.

“Y/n” Jongho responded without conviction, still laying flat on the cloud of smoke, eyes growing heavier by the second.

“Yeah! That’s right!” Wooyoung exclaimed. “That girl is unbreakable,” he affirmed. Seonghwa scoffed and threw an unconvinced look to his peer.

“No really! I’ve tried to corrupt her but I really couldn’t”. Wooyoung said, raising his brows and talking loudly to support his point. But that did little to persuade Seonghwa, he was convinced that Wooyoung was just not as good as him at breaking the mortals’ souls. So yes, it was possible that Wooyoung had struggled with that girl. But not him, surely not him.

When Wooyoung saw Seonghwa was not budging his face dropped, and he turned to the others. “Please someone back me up on this one” 

“Oh yeaaah… I remember her” Yeosang said, voice cut by various sounds of loud lips smacking and open mouth chewing. “Even I tried!”

Now, that was different. Seonghwa was interested. Most people are quick to indulge themselves when it comes to food. It was, so to speak, the easiest sin of the seven to succumb to. The Humans often say “there’s always room for dessert” and innocently eat a generous slice of cake after devouring a full meal. They don’t even notice Yeosang forcing the big spoon full of buttery sugary goodness into their mouths. They don’t even know Yeosang, himself, made this saying. 

“She refused to even do as much as taste the delicious meal I made her sister cook her even though she was starving… instead she gave it to the homeless man living not far from her apartment.” Yeosang stated with aberration shaking his head in disappointment before plunging right back in the ramyeon bowl.

“Mhm” Seonghwa scratched his chin, his curiosity for the mysterious righteous girl was piqued.

“One day I tried to make her give in” Jongho chipped in from the dark purple smoke bed, even pushing himself on his elbows to look at the others, to Seonghwa’s surprise. “Made her miss the train and the bus she needed to take to get home after work and conveniently laid a juicy wallet stuffed full of even juicier bills in the gutter. All she had to do was to bend down and get the money to take a taxi to her apartment. But instead she took the money and walked to the police station to report the lost wallet, which was in the opposite direction by the way and then walked back home only to take a shower and leave right after to attend the charity soup kitchen. Anddd… Explaining this made me tired. Please don't talk to me for the next two hundred years, thank you.” Jongho concluded in one single breath before laying back down and turning on his side to nap comfortably.

“Maybe that one can be interesting after all” Seonghwa thought aloud.

a/n: tell me if you wanna be tagged through comments or through asks <3

ateez masterlist | navigation

[wlntrsldler]

poisoned mercury | lifestyles of the rich & famous

i. lifestyles of the rich and famous by good charlotte (introduction)

a/n: introductory chapter! introducing the dynamics of the band, luke's relationship with his mom, and teenage boy antics. pre-reader and pre-chb. things will pick up quickly after this, i promise! bear with me as i set the scene :)

series masterlist | previous | next

“why the fuck am i seeing tabloids on top of tabloids with my kid’s plastered face on the front page of all of them?” 

luke winced at the sound of his mom’s voice echoing through the empty event space. chris covered the bottom half of his face with his shirt, trying to hold in his laughter. may castellan was in her usual pantsuit, high heels clacking against the floor, as she waved around trashy magazines. she was furious. 

“ignoring the fact that you are not 21 years old and cannot legally drink, what were you thinking, luke?” travis dropped his drumsticks on the ground, motioning for chris and connor to follow him backstage. they’d seen luke get chewed out by his mom more often since they started their world tour. as the three boys walked toward the side of the stage, may turned to them. “none of you are off the hook either. you may not have been on the front page, but care to listen to what they said about you in one of their glorious articles?” 

“i would actually prefer not to, mama castellan,” chris mumbled, suddenly feeling caught. all traces of humor instantly drained from his face. luke couldn’t help but scoff, the boys always gave him shit for getting yelled at by his mom, so he was glad that this time around they were all on the sinking ship. 

she dramatically cleared her throat, opening up one of the magazines. luke grimaced at the sight of him on the front page. he was sitting on the curb, his sunglasses askew, with a girl awkwardly patting his back. he doesn’t even remember this. may shot daggers at chris, who was cowering behind his mic stand, “bassist of poisoned mercury, chris rodriguez, was photographed away from the band when he was caught outside smoking something that wasn’t a cigarette, if you catch our drift. hopefully, his habits don’t catch up to him anytime soon.” 

she stared at the stolls next, “drummer and lead guitarist of the rising band, travis and connor stoll, didn’t miss out on the fun. they walked out of the club with two models, who looked like twins, along with a bottle of dom perignon before heading into their suv.”

“and my darling child,” her words were sweet but her tone was anything but. luke chewed on the peeling skin of his bottom lip, “superstar, teen heartthrob, poisoned mercury lead singer, luke castellan, had a great night as seen in these pictures. the resident bad boy had one too many, it seems, as he walked out of the club stumbling with a mysterious blonde under his arm. castellan couldn’t make it into the car and had to sit on the curb to puke his guts out. let’s hope his actions didn’t ruin his chance at a budding romance.” 

may closed the magazine, arms on her hips. she waited patiently for one of the boys to speak up. 

“in our defense, this was in canada,” luke tried to reason, scrunching his face up. “legal drinking age is 18.” 

that was the wrong response, luke realized, when his mom’s eyes lit up in anger. she let out a breath, “you were in toronto where the drinking age is 19, which you weren’t until yesterday.” 

“i did not know that the drinking age in canada varied by region. i always learn something new whenever i talk to you, mama castellan,” travis said, trying to lighten the mood. connor shot him a look, motioning for him to quit talking. may castellan was clearly not in the mood for jokes. 

“i am tired of you guys acting reckless,” she roared, dropping the magazines. they fell with a heavy thud. she rubbed her temples with the pads of her fingers, “your parents trusted me to take care of you guys while you chased your dreams and this is what you’re doing under my watch?!” 

seeing his mom at her wit's end made luke feel sick. 

“mom,” luke hopped off the stage, ignoring the sound of the magazines ripping under his feet as he landed on top of them, “we’re sorry. i’m sorry.” 

“sorry’s not gonna cut it anymore, luke,” may said, shaking her head. “after this tour, you guys are taking a break. no touring, no public appearances.” 

“what?” connor exclaimed, joining luke off the stage. the other boys followed, looks of bewilderment evident on their faces. “w-we can’t take a break now!” 

“yeah, c’mon, mama c!” chris added, shaking his head, “we’re just getting really big. if we quit now, we’ll lose this momentum.”

“you’re not quitting. it’s just a tiny break– three months,” she cut them off, raising a hand in a stop. “we’ll release a statement to the press saying you guys will be taking some time off to work on your sophomore album so people have something to look forward to when you return.” 

“okay, so that’s the cover story,” luke ran a hand through his curls. he knew that there was no winning against his mom when she made up her mind. he looked at her and spoke before the rest of the band continued their protests, “but what are we actually gonna be doing?” 

“you’re going to spend your summer in montauk, just like old times,” his mom explained, voice still stern. “you’re going to camp half blood.”

-

“what the fuck is a camp half blood?” chris asked, plopping down on the couch they had inside their dressing room. rehearsal was cut short following the news delivered by luke’s mom. 

“it’s a music camp,” luke explained, fidgeting with random things sprawled across his desk, trying to find the pack of cigarettes he hid. he really needed to clean up. “my dad used to take me there over the summer when i was younger.”

the topic of luke’s dad was a sore subject for him. his dad left him and his mom when he was 7 for some young waitress from their hometown diner. one second, he was signing up for little league with his dad as the coach; the next, he was sitting in the hallway listening to his mom cry after his dad packed a bag and left town with wendy the waitress in the passenger seat. luke hasn’t heard from him since then. last he checked, his dad was lounging beachside in santa monica with his third wife who was definitely too young for him. as far as he’s concerned, his dad was dead to him. 

but he couldn’t deny that his time at camp half blood was the place of origin of some of his best childhood memories. he got his first taste of what it was like to be on stage at camp half blood; the adrenaline coursing through his veins, the pounding of his heart at the applause, the wild images in his head about what it would be like to be known for his music-- it all started at camp half blood. he was his happiest at camp, at least before his dad ruined it for him. 

“is it fun?” travis asked, twirling a fresh pair of drumsticks between his fingers. 

“used to be, yeah,” luke chuckled, hoisting himself up to sit on the desk. “haven’t been there since i was seven.” 

“dude, i do not want to hang out with a bunch of little kids all summer,” chris groaned, letting his head fall back against the wall. 

“relax, rodriguez,” luke lit a cigarette, inhaling the smoke before continuing. “there’s two sides to the camp. we’ll be with the older kids.” 

“oh shit, is camp half blood mr. d’s music camp?” connor asked. the name of the camp was starting to sound familiar to him.

luke took another drag, nodding, “that’s the one.” 

“dude, i fucking love mr. d. he always has the wildest stories,” travis laughed, “he’s so mellow and chill now, i wouldn’t’ve ever guessed he used to be like that.” 

“it was the 90’s,” chris shrugged, “pretty sure everyone was like that at one point.” 

“paid off for him though,” connor replied, opening a bag of doritos. he offered a chip to his brother, who in return, snatched the bag for himself. connor rolled his eyes, reaching over to grab another one. he was used to this. “i mean being a ceo of a multi-million dollar recording company isn’t too shabby.” 

luke hummed along, mindlessly, letting the chatter of his bandmates fill the air. the three boys fell into a conversation about the last time they saw mr. d at the recording studio when they were finishing up the vocals for their debut album, but luke’s mind was far away from the topic at hand. he couldn’t shake the feeling of disappointment from his body. he knew the way his mom looked at him would haunt him for the next few nights.

it wasn’t like he was actively trying to disappoint her– really, he wasn’t, but he just gets so caught up in the noise of fame that he forgets how to act under the pressure. there was something about his mom breaking down in front of him because of him that tore him apart. he felt guilty. his mom didn’t ask for this life, she didn’t even want it. she was content being a suburban mom in westport, connecticut, but she gave up her comfy life to let luke live out his dreams of being a musician. 

he was lucky, he knew that. not every mom would be on board with her kid dropping out of traditional high school to perform rowdy songs about teenage angst, but may castellan was okay with it because she loved luke so much and wanted him to be happy. so when poisoned mercury got a record deal with olympus records, she didn’t hesitate to drop everything and go on the road with four unruly teenagers, promising their parents that she’d take care of their sons. 

sometimes, he thinks about what his mom sees when she looks at him. he wonders if she still recognized him, the him before all the fame got to his head. 

he was may castellan’s little boy. the boy who used to beg his mom for chocolate chip cookies after a bad day at school, who used to knock on her door in the middle of the night wondering why he wasn’t enough for his dad to stay, and who cried when she got him his first guitar on his tenth birthday. for most of his life, it’s always just been him and his mom. 

now, at 19, luke didn’t know who he was anymore. he was just going with the flow, doing whatever, doing whoever, his fame and his status threw his way. he did what any teenage boy would do in his position– he drank, he smoked, he had fun, maybe too much fun, sometimes. it’s a rockstar’s life, his wildest dreams come to life, but it was a distraction, mostly. luke wasn’t brave enough to face the music just yet, so he dove into this fantasy head-first, too afraid to look back.

except sometimes, he fucks up really badly, like in toronto, and he’s forced to deal with the consequences of his actions. one time, his mom cut the band off from playing video games on the tour bus for a month after a heated argument between the four of them caused them to cancel a show. the argument was stupid. luke was adamant that scorpions did not have the same mental capacity for understanding pain that humans do and that did not bode well with travis. rehearsal ended in a brawl because travis kept doing impromptu drum solos to drown out luke’s voice. his mom was pissed that hundreds of fans were disappointed over the canceled show and it was all because they couldn’t agree over a damn scorpion. 

another time, she banned them from driving the golf carts around the venue when they crashed it into a very expensive sound system in portland. they ended up owing upwards of $4,000 for the damages and were banned from playing at the event space ever again. the four of them laughed about it when the chaos of it all subsided, and they were fine not playing at the house of hades again, but they did miss the snack bar they set up for visiting talents. chris said he still dreamt about the pomegranate juice ‘til this day. 

luke can look back at the punishments over the years fondly now. in the grand scheme of things, none of it really mattered. but going to camp half blood? this was a different type of punishment. 

luke didn’t want to go to camp half blood. the last memory he had of camp was not a welcomed one. plus, after what he experienced on tour, he could think of a million other ways to spend his summer months, and living at a camp with spotty cell service and designated arts and crafts time was nowhere near the top of the list. 

“yo, castellan,” chris’ voice snapped luke out of his thoughts. “you comin?”

luke put out his cigarette against the wood of his desk, “huh?”

“we’re grabbing food, do you wanna go with us?”

luke hopped off the desk, slipping on his black, puffer jacket, “yeah, i’m right behind you.” 

as luke was walking out of the dressing room, adjusting his t-shirt, he saw his mom talking to teddy, their publicist. they were engaged in a serious conversation, no doubt talking about the press release regarding their second album and their hiatus. luke stood in front of the door for a brief moment, a stutter in his steps, not knowing if he should interrupt.

 luke pursed his lips, deciding to jog over to his mom. 

“i think we should post it on the band accounts first before the boys announce it individually. it make–” may furrowed her eyebrows, noticing luke coming closer to her. she turned her body to face him. she looked much calmer now than she did during rehearsals, “hey, what’s wrong?” 

luke shook his head, “nothin’, mom. i just–uh, just wanted to say sorry again.”

“let’s talk later, may,” teddy gave the two of them a small smile before walking away. 

“i’m not changing my mind about camp half blood,” she frowned. “sorry, luke but i can’t have you guys running around all sum–”

“no, no, i know, mom. i-i didn’t come here to try to convince you,” luke looked down at his feet, suddenly feeling like a little boy again. “i just– uh, shit. okay, i’m sorry for toronto. it was a bad time and it’s not fair that you have to deal with the fall out of our shit. and uh– thank you for sticking by us even though we drive you kinda crazy.” 

may laughed, smiling at her son, “you’re my kid. you know i’ll always be there to set you straight.” 

“thanks, mom,” luke chuckled, backing away to catch up with his bandmates. may waved goodbye, making her way to teddy’s makeshift office. before luke left the tunnel, he turned around, “wait mom! last thing!” 

she raised her eyebrows, “what?” 

luke raised his hand in a thumbs-up motion, grinning from ear to ear, “love you!” 

“i love you too, kiddo,” may replied, a hand over her heart. “now scram, i gotta clean up your mess.” 

[fbfh]

rodrick x hyperfeminine reader hcs 2

wc: 1.7k

genre: mutual pining, minor angst

pairing: rodrick x hyperfeminine!reader

warnings: houseparty, madison and heather aren't very good friends, one brief mention of alcohol/underage drinking but no one is obviously drunk, Brent keeps flirting with you and can't take a hint but it's annoying and inconvenient at most, minor miscommunication, sad roddy at the end

summary: after getting all dolled up for your party (which is really just an excuse to see rodrick and his band play) you spend the whole night not getting to do the one thing you want to do - see Rodrick.

song rec: teenage dirtbag - wheatus, and I imagine them playing put your money on me - the struts, basket case - green day, and of course, diper overlode - loded diper at the party

a/n: the long awaited part 2 is here!! and yes there will be a part 3 that takes place at prom lol

tags at the bottom (tagging all the people who asked for part 2 as well lol)

You’ve spent all week planning your party

Now it’s finally friday after school, and Heather and Madison are at your place, taking on the monumental task of deciding what you’re going to wear

You decide on the new pair of heels you got as your inspiration piece

They’re baby pink and strappy, with a butterfly shape made of little diamonds on the front

You’ve been absolutely obsessed with them, and the party seems like the perfect opportunity to break them in

You dig around in your closet, pulling a few of your other pink dresses

It’s not much of a contest when you see them laid out, and you choose the light pink satin one to go with your shoes

You listen to Heather and Madison gossip while you dig through your jewelry and nail polish, finding some coordinating accessories and your next mani pedi color

“Which earrings?” You ask them, holding up two pairs. 

“That one.” They say in unison, pointing to the one on your left

You were leaning toward that pair anyway, so you’re glad they agree

After finalizing some details and going over what they’re going to wear, all your party outfits are planned

Heather and Madison leave to get dressed, promising to be back within the hour so you can all help each other with hair and makeup

You’ve  practically become their personal beauty guru since you became friends

You always know just what to do to make their makeup look flawless and their hair cooperate when it’s being stubborn

You’re a big ball of nerves while you get the last details set up

Snacks are laid out, drinks are set up

Now all you need is the people

And more importantly

The band

As people show up, Heather drags you around to socialize

You swear, she must make you say hi to every single person there

If you were a little more cynical, you might pick up on the fact that Heather is trying to keep you away from Rodrick

Rodrick, who you’ve been thinking about non stop since you first saw him

You spend the whole time looking around for him and his band 

You think you see him across the room once, but it’s a girl with a dark brown pixie cut

It’s hard to tell in this lighting, and you’re glad you caught it before you made a really awkward mistake

You’re sure it would have been a funny anecdote that lead to you being friends after

On your way back, you get stopped by Brad

He insists on pulling you aside to talk, which Heather and Madison encourage

But right now all you want is to find Rodrick

And all Rodrick wants is to find you

They’re almost warmed up and ready for their set

And GOD he’s never been more excited for a gig

He’s so ready to go all out

To impress you

And to avoid all Justin Bieber songs to prevent another Heather’s sweet 16 incident

He fidgets with his drumsticks and looks around again

He still doesn’t see you

Which sucks, because he’s been thinking about this exact moment non stop since loded diper got this dream of a gig

He’s been making the boys practice way more than normal

Much to his parent’s dismay (even though they’re starting to sound pretty good)

To avoid another Heather Hills sweet 16 situation

But more importantly, to impress you

When Rodrick fell asleep every night this week, he had a variation of the same dream

Playing at this party, rocking the house so hard people talk about it for years afterwards, and getting to see you

You’re so beautiful, standing dead center at the front of the crowd, looking up at him the whole time

They barely finish their set when you weave your way through the band, and walk right up to him

His heart is pounding as you start praising him, telling him how good he was, how you want to be his little rockstar’s girlfriend

He usually gets so excited he wakes himself up after that

And now

It’s finally happening

His literal dreams are coming true

His band got a great gig

And he gets to play for you

This is probably the biggest opportunity since battle of the bands 

The guys know how much he’s been looking forward to this

It’s all he’s been talking about

He really thinks that if everything goes perfect, he might be able to shoot his shot with you

He just has to focus

Focus on playing a perfect gig, focus on figuring out how to woo you

Once they’re all warmed up and hyped up, they start their set

You can hear the band starting to tune up from the other room, and try for what feels like the millionth time to slip away from Brent

You’ve had to turn him down more times than you can count, and he still can’t take a goddamn hint

“I really have to go check on my friends…” you trail off, finally slipping into the crowd

You manage to find Madison, who signals to Heather, and soon all three of you are hiding in the bathroom

You catch your breath for a little while, touching up your makeup while Heather checks herself out and fluffs her hair

Madison sits nearby, texting someone

After a little while, you sigh, figuring you should all get back

Heather and Madison share a look while you straighten out your necklace 

Heather walks to the door with Madison right behind her

She pokes her head out of the door, then closes it quickly

“Brent is right down the hall,” she says, turning back to you as Madison nods, “we should wait in here a little longer

It feels like you wait in the bathroom forever while Heather occasionally sending Madison out to check

After a little while you hear faint music

Your stomach drops

You can’t miss the band, the whole point of throwing this party was getting to see Rodrick and loded diper play 

“Did they start already?” you ask, walking toward the door

Heather grabs your arm before you can open it, telling you Brent is still right outside, and sends Madison to go check if the band started yet

Madison comes back a minute later

“They’re still warming up,” she says, sharing a look with Heather

A little while later, the music gets louder and you don’t want to risk missing their show

You leave the bathroom before Heather and Madison can stop you 

You’re met with loud rock music reverberating through the house

Definitely not just warming up

You try to get to the other room where they’re playing so you don’t miss the rest of their set

Before you get very far, Brent catches your eye and cuts through the crowd

He follows you around and keeps trying to pull you aside to flirt and talk and get you to go out with him 

You manage to get to the doorway of the room they’re playing when he pins you against the wall

He’s going on and on about how you’d be perfect together, you’d be lucky to get with him, everyone at school wants him

But all you can think about is how great the band sounds

They’re like a perfect blend of all the best pop punk and rock groups you’ve ever heard

Right off the bat, you pick out influences from green day, my chemical romance, and metallica 

You’re really fucking impressed

You didn’t expect them to be this good, and you didn’t have low expectations to begin with

You just wish you could get away from Brent to really get to see the rest of their set before it’s over

When the song ends, you hear Rodricks voice and stretch up to try and see him as he leans into the mic

“Thank you, we are Loded Diper! Fuck authority!” he looks over at Chris, then leans back into the mic “And the patriarchy!” 

Your stomach sinks as you realize you missed most of their show, but you still cheer louder than anyone else in the room

Rodrick lets out a little puff of air when Chris taps his shoulder, getting his attention

“Uh, listen man…” Chris starts, but Rodrick doesn’t hear what he says after that

He looks over to where Chris is gesturing, and his heart sinks

Brent has you pinned against the wall across the room, and you two are looking awfully cozy together

“Shit…” Rodrick says

Once again, he looks like an idiot for thinking he has a chance with you

“C’mon, let’s get out of here,” Ben says, signaling to Ward to help them bring their stuff back out to the van

They wrap it up and leave quickly, and Ward, Ben, and Chris try to figure out how to help their heartbroken drummer 

You spend the rest of the party looking for Rodrick

You hope he stuck around, you really want to tell him how great he was

When the alcohol runs out and the party’s over, Madison and Heather sleep over, helping you clean up 

Technically Heather makes Madison help you clean up

All they can talk about is prom coming up, but your mind is still on Rodrick

And how you didn’t get to see him

You wish you could have told him how amazing he was

Even if he’s not into you like you’re really, really into him

You just want him to know that you could listen to his music all day and never get tired of it

“...coordinating dates, and-” Heather says, turning to you suddenly, “you’re going to help us pick out dresses, right?” 

You nod, flashing her a smile and hoping to disguise your disappointment at how the night went

“Yeah,” you answer as she goes on about finding you all dates

But you know that if you can’t go to prom with Rodrick, you won’t want to go at all

You just hope by some miracle you’ll get to dance with him, at least once

@dustyinkpages @the-snake-pit @inthehoneymoonwithconnorrk800 @followingthefanfiction @2220825 @marveldemigod17 @celootaku1 @stay-to-reblog @whos-mixxie @mikulovingtrash @inthemindofaweirdo @b0nes-phobic @myymmeloo @wanderlustingcastaway @debbi3-debaser @lubunnii @imaybewrongbutidoubtit @cloverhasnobrain @bessonasa @strangelysamantha @1-800-starkindustrie @brookeskitty @1ummcalhoody6 @always1s4youbitch-blog @citri-koi @vincentluvr444 @brunnetteiwik @melllinaa @reeces-pieses @mentamaree @jasontodd-artemisgrace4life @jinniy

[ladykailitha]

The Fallen

I blame @vecnuthy for this entirely. Seeing all their Sleep Token posts has completely intersected with Steddie and you get this.

***

Modern AU: Corroded Coffin makes it big. Like Metallica levels huge. Like every up and coming metal band is clamoring to open for them levels of fame. When this metal band, The Fallen comes on the scene and are dismissed as glam rock wannabes.

They are very theatrical. They are dressed in long coats with hoods and face masks. The guitarist, bassist, and drummer all have full Venetian masks of different colors. The bassist has one that looks like a starry night (but not Starry Night if you know what I mean). The Guitarist has a red devil’s mask, horns and all. The drummer is in a black death mask. The eyes of the mask are closed and it looks eerie as fuck. The most dramatic of the masks belong to the lead singer. He wears an opaque white lace mask with the mouth and chin cut out so he can sing.

Their outfits match their masks.

The lead singer, Abbadon, the fallen angel is in all in white with a splash of color on the lining of his coat. Sometimes it’s pink or baby blue, sometimes it one of the colors of bandmates, black or red or starry midnight blue. He wears high heeled boats and not always of the combat variety. Once he wore stilettos with a baby blue stripe up the side. It’s the outfit that gets made into dolls and merch the most. Most of the time he’s shirtless, but has been known to switch it up with lace or sheer tops.

The guitarist plays up the devil persona to a tee and calls himself Asmodeus, the demon of lust. Red leather and fetish gear. Thick red combat boots. His guitar is even blood red.

The bassist is called Astraeus, the titan of the night. While in certain light his clothes look black, but they are in fact a dark blue with bright stars, swirling galaxies, and glowing nebulae. His bass is of the night sky as well.

And finally the drummer, Azrael. Angel of death. Always in black. His drum kit is black with black metal fittings. Even his drumsticks are black.

Like I said, at first dismissed as wannabes but they are killing it. It’s clear that not only are they talented, their flare for the dramatic adds to their mystique. Soon they are the new rising stars of metal.

Dustin is their biggest fan. He loves them. Eddie is offended at the highest level. How dare this little butthead like The Fallen. Dustin rolls his eyes.

“Dude, Corroded Coffin is still number one in my book,” he tells Eddie. “But you can’t deny that Abbadon is a beast on vocals.”

Eddie is forced to concede the point. Abbadon knows how to really get the through to the emotion of a song.

So when Dustin gets front row tickets to The Fallen’s concert in Indy, Eddie reluctantly joins the little twerp.

And the concert starts. First the drummer gets lowered into his seat on giant raven wings.

“Azrael!” the announcer calls out.

And the crowd goes wild.

The man slips out of the harness and wings ascend. Eddie cocks his head, yeah all right that’s kinda cool.

Azrael hits his drums and the bassist gets lowered on to the stage. All shimmering blues and purples, like actual stars, lands deftly on the stage and Azrael hits the high hat.

“Astraeus!”

The crowd is frantic now. Screaming and jumping up and down.

As soon as the wings are unstrapped and lifted away Astraeus riffs on his bass and the crowd eats it up.

Eddie likes this one. It’s unique.

Then Azrael starts up again as another man is lowered and it takes everything in Eddie’s power not to roll his eyes at this one. Red leather gear, horned mask, and fucking bat wings.

He stomps on the stage and really wails on his guitar. Eddie looks over to see that Dustin is absolutely eating it with the rest of them so he wisely keeps his mouth shut.

“Asmodeus!”

Dustin is vibrating so hard that Eddie’s fears he might literally crawl out of his skin with excitement.

And then the entire stadium goes silent. Like stock still. Eddie is looking around him confused.

He looks back at the stage and there descends the absolute most devastatingly handsome man Eddie has ever seen and he hasn’t seen his face.

His arms are out stretched and his head is bowed. Once he lands air cannons shoot out white feathers out at the crowd and the wings ascend without this man.

“Abbadon!” the announcer screams for the final time.

“Indy!” he shouts into his mouthpiece.

And the crowd screams could deafen the most resilient of metal goer.

Abbadon starts singing and the crowd is losing their god damn minds. And yeah, yeah. Eddie is one of them.

They’ve got a stage presence that can’t be manufactured.

And then about half way through the concert he sees it. Abbadon turns his head just right and holy fuck, Eddie is losing his mind for a different reason. He manages to take a picture with his phone before Abbadon turns.

After the concert Eddie grills Dustin about the band all the way home. But the only thing the kid knows is how awesome the band is.

He gets to the hotel and starts watching every interview with The Fallen ever. And he pulls up one from about a year or so back where Abbadon is talking about the masks.

Abbadon pulls out a black mask and holds it up to the light. “See? You can tell that the eyes have mesh covering over them. They work the way two way mirrors do. Azrael can see out of them just fine, but you can’t see in.”

There are a lot of impressed nods, Eddie is definitely one of them. That’s certainly a neat trick.

“So what’s the reason for the masks at all?” the interviewer asks.

Abbadon looks at the members of his band and they all nod. He licks his lips.

“Because if we had been ourselves when we started on the scene,” he said, “we would have be called posers and we wouldn’t have even gotten this far.”

Eddie paused the video and took a deep breath.

Fuck.

Just then Jeff wanders into the hotel room and looks at the TV.

“Is that The Fallen?”

Eddie hums. “Yup.”

Jeff grabs a drink from the mini-fridge and makes his way over. “Oh hey is that poser interview?”

Eddie hums again.

“He can’t really be serious about that,” Jeff says with a huff. “No one in the metal scene would call anyone posers, not if they truly loved the music.”

“We would have,” Eddie says with a finality that brings Jeff up short.

“The fuck we would have, man,” Jeff snaps. “There’s no way.”

“We would have it was Steve Harrington’s band.”

Jeff’s eyes go wide. “There is no way that’s Steve Harrington.”

Eddie pulls out his phone and zooms in on Abbadon’s neck. He hands his phone to Jeff.

“Okay so the dude has moles on his neck,” he says handing the phone back, “lots of people have them.”

Eddie goes through his phone and pulls up a picture of Steve. He’s not in the exact same pose but it’s close enough. He hands the phone to Jeff again.

Jeff squints and then zooms in.

“Holy fucking shit!”

Eddie drapes his hand over his mouth and purses his lips.

“Steve Harrington in a metal band,” Jeff says in awe. “All be damned.”

“When The Fallen came on the scene,” Eddie says dropping his hand so his talk, “we were outselling Metallica in records and ticket sales. If the rest of the band are preps like Steve we would have mocked them relentlessly.”

Jeff sits down hard on the sofa next to Eddie. “Shit.”

Eddie buries his head in his hands.

“We got to tell someone, man,” Jeff says. “This is huge!”

Eddie in his haste to look at Jeff accidentally hits the remote.

“Do you think you’ll ever do a reveal?” the interviewer asks.

Asmodeus leans over to speak in the microphone. “Ask us again in ten years if we’re still selling out crowds.”

Eddie fumbles it again, but manages to turn off the TV.

Jeff and he looks at each other.

“We can’t say shit, man,” Eddie hisses. “It would be like outing someone as gay or trans before they want to.”

Jeff slumps in his seat. “Fuck. Yeah. You’re right. Shit.”

They’re silent for a moment.

Eddie cocks his head to the side. “What I don’t get is how the kids don’t know.”

Jeff opens his mouth and then closes it. He shakes his head slowly. “Sorry but if I was Steve I wouldn’t tell them shit either.”

Eddie frowns. “What do you mean?”

“Look,” Jeff says turning to face him, “they’re great kids. Brilliant D&D players, nerds, geeks, and dorks the lot of them. But I would not trust them with a secret that big.”

Eddie thought about all the time that they accidentally blurted out something that didn’t make sense out of context, but once you knew, holy shit was it a miracle these kids didn’t get into more trouble.

“Yeah okay.”

After a moment of silence Eddie looks over and frowns at Jeff. “What are you doing my hotel room anyway?”

Jeff holds up his beer. “Your beer was cold, I forgot to put mine in the fridge when we got in.”

“Asshole,” Eddie grouses, bumping Jeff’s shoulder.

Jeff kisses his cheek. “You love me though.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.”

*

Steve is in his dressing room after their last concert of the tour for their second album scrubbing the hell out of his face because that mask is prone to giving him the worst breakouts, when he notices the blue roses.

He gets a lot of flowers but never blue roses. He rinses off his face and walks over to the them.

There’s a note and he thinks he recognizes the handwriting. It’s short and sweet and absolutely terrifying.

“I know your secret, sweetheart. But don’t worry, I’ll never tell.”

It’s not signed, but the ‘sweetheart’ gives it away.

He messages Robin.

“Get Eddie Munson in here right now!”

She protests that she doesn’t know where he is. But Steve knows he has to still be in the building and sure enough she finds Eddie waiting in the wings, looking smug as hell.

Her eyes go wide and cursing up a storm drags him into the dressing room.

She presses her back to the door.

“Who told?” she squeaks.

Eddie laughs. “No one, I swear.”

“Then how did you know?” Steve asks.

He hands Steve his phone with the picture he took at the concert. Robin wanders over to peak over Steve’s shoulder.

“So it’s a picture of his neck,” she murmurs.

But suddenly Steve gets it. “It’s my moles!”

Eddie nods, pressing his lips together so he doesn’t giggle.

“Shit!” Robin hisses. “Do you think anyone else figured it out?”

“I doubt it,” Eddie says with a shrug. “I’m just obsessive that way.”

“About moles?” Robin says with a frown.

“With Steve.”

Robin blinks. “Right I’m out of here.”

She closes the door behind her and they are left alone.

The night ends with Eddie in Steve’s bed asking him for The Fallen to join Corroded Coffin on their next tour next year and there is no way Steve could say no to that. His bandmates would kill him.

They go on tour and the hardest part is dodging rumors that Eddie is two timing Steve with Abbadon because when The Fallen and Corroded Coffin perform together they make out on stage.

Then for The Fallen’s ten anniversary they do a reveal and Dustin is livid.

Robin and Steve had been telling him for years that they were just low level PAs and not a famous rockstar and his equally mysterious manager.

They’re forgiven when Steve tells him that half the songs on the first album are about him and the rest of the kids.

***

This is just a rough draft. I might expand on it in full later.

ETA: Story here.

Tag List: @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @artiststarme @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369 @pyrohonk ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @messrs-weasley @val-from-lawrence @i-must-potato @danili666 @carlyv @rozzieroos @wonderland-girl143-blog @justforthedead89 @emly03 @bookworm0690 @itsall-taken @vecnuthy @bookbinderbitch @redfreckledwolf @littlewildflowerkitten @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @scheodingers-muppet @mira-jadeamethyst @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @genderless-spoon @anne-bennett-cosplayer @irregular-child

[zepskies]

Smoke Eater - Part 5

Pairing: Firefighter!Dean Winchester x F. Reader 

Summary: Dean Winchester is the cocky, but well-respected Lieutenant at Firehouse 25. He leads by example, but he’s also known to break a few hearts. He’s starting to crave something he’s never had, though. Something stable. Something real. 

That’s when he meets you, on a truly terrible day, trapped in a rickety old elevator.   

🔥 Series Masterlist

Word Count: 5,000 Tags/Warnings: Fluff, house fire, perilous situations, angst, hurt/comfort 

Part 5: “Twitterpated”

“Hey there, beautiful,” Dean said.

His voice alone was enough to cause a shiver tingling down your spine.

You couldn’t help but giggle as he once again drew you into a kiss. He held you close by the waist. Feeling his hands spanning your lower back was doing things to you, but you knew you had to keep a level head here.

“Dean,” you said. Your lips curved against his. “We’ve said hello about three times now.”

“Wanna make it four?” he suggested. His voice was deep as sin.

Damn this man, you thought. He was a professional flirt.

But you laughed, and he smirked at the sound. He resisted letting you go when you playfully tried to pull away. The two of you were standing in the middle of your small office, in front of your desk at work. A large bag of takeout was perched on your desk, but neither of you cared about food just yet.

Dean liked the look of you in your navy blouse, tucked into a trim pair of pants, down to your smart heels.

“Tell me you didn’t go up all 20-something flights of stairs in those daggers you got on,” he remarked.

You followed his gaze down to your heels.

“Oh no,” you said. “I’ve got a backup pair of sneakers that I came to work in. Then I slip these on behind my desk. No one’s the wiser.”

Dean enjoyed that playful little smirk you gave him. He still couldn’t believe you’d walked all those stairs, but he guessed he couldn’t begrudge you for your lingering fear of elevators.

“Yeah? What else do you get up to behind that desk? Besides work, that is,” he teased. You guffawed and playfully hit his arm.

He chuckled and finally released you. You’d already dragged a spare chair next to yours behind your desk, so he began helping you unearth the various containers in the bag he brought. All the while, he surreptitiously took an inventory of your office.

It was all very neat and organized, just like you. You had a large window right behind you, which let in some much-needed natural light. There were tile floors, like the rest of the building, but while your desk was an old wood, clunky thing, you had a double monitor setup with an organized file system on either side.

As you pushed things aside and made room for the food, Dean noted the way stray pieces of hair fell from your clip, framing your face. He itched to take that clip out and make that hair wild, maybe even wrapping it around his hand.

Instead, he reached out and tucked a few strands behind your ear. It earned your attention with a soft blush.

“What?” you asked.

“Nothin’,” he grinned. He was treated to one of your shy smiles as you continued in your task.

Soon you and Dean were once again sharing good food and conversation. You explained what you did for work, being a Senior Sales Representative at Savage & Co. He listened, offering interjections here and there: gems like, Josh sounds like a fucking idiot. And, so does your boss. You couldn’t disagree.

In the back of your mind, it was still a bit strange for Dean to be in your office. It felt rather intimate for a second date, but you supposed coming to your place of work wasn’t so new to him.

“You sure are killing that chicken,” Dean remarked, as he watched you carve into a large drumstick with fork and knife. He shot you a teasing smile. “You know it’s already dead, right?”   

You gave him a dry look, despite your amusement. “I’m starving! All I’ve had today is a cup of coffee.” 

He frowned at that. “What, you can’t take a break for an egg McMuffin?”

“Ha!” you cracked, and took a sip of lemonade. “There are no breaks around here.”

Dean hummed, though you could see he didn’t like it.

“You sound like Sam,” he said.

“Oh, your brother?”

“Yeah, Mr. District Attorney,” Dean said in a mocking voice. But his smile betrayed his fondness, and his pride for his younger brother’s accomplishments.

You remembered then that Dean’s father was a police officer as well—a real life homicide detective! You ruminated on that when you and Dean moved on to dessert. You had a scoop of frozen yogurt, while he started to dig into a slice of blueberry pie.

“You know, it’s amazing to me that your entire family went into public service, from all angles,” you said. “It’s impressive…and really noble, actually.”

Dean offered you a quirk of a smile. It told you he wasn’t typically one to be comfortable with praise, as he carded a hand through his hair.

“Yeah, well. It’s a living,” was all he said.

You shook your head with a smile. His humility seemed genuine, and you found it endearing as hell.

“And you’re the eldest, right?” you asked. Dean nodded around a mouthful of pie. He set down the little tray between you for a moment.

“Yeah, though you wouldn’t know it looking at my brother. Around sixteen, he shot up like a damn weed. Friggin’ gigantor.”

You giggled at the image. Now you were truly intrigued, and hoped to meet both Sam and Dean’s father in the future. Though for right now, you glanced down at the slice of pie resting between you, all glossy blueberry filling and flaky crust.

You raised your cup of frozen yogurt to him. “Wanna try a bit of this, so I can try a bit of that?”

You went for a piece of pie with your fork, but Dean snatched the tray out of reach. He eyed you with a bit of admonishment.

“Hey, now. I got you your fake ice cream or whatever,” he said. You rose brow at him, both incredulous and amused.

“What, you won’t share with me?” you asked.

A smile twitched at his lips, but he stayed firm.

“Sweetheart, I’ll get you whatever you want, but here’s where I draw the line.”

You laughed in disbelief. But then an idea made your smile slide into flirtation. You set your dessert aside and rolled your chair closer to his. Dean watched you as your hand slid up his arm, and your pretty eyes met his.

“Okay, what if I make it worth your while?” you posed.

He tilted his head. His hand found the curve of your waist and slid around, bringing you even closer.

“Oh, yeah?” he challenged. “If you really want my pie, that’s gotta be damn worth it.”

Another giggle bubbled in your throat, but you continued to play your part.

“I have a few ideas,” you said. Your fingers drew a path down his chest, over the soft gray Henley he wore. You could feel the warmth of his skin underneath, and the firmness of his body. His grip on your waist tightened a fraction.   

And he smirked. “Tell me…”

Your lips were a whisper from his. He smelled like spicy cologne and blueberries. Two of his fingers came to brush your hair away from your cheek…

But as usual, your boss had the absolute worst timing. The sound of your office door opening was like a gunshot ringing through the room, making you and Dean separate from one another with a jolt.

Nick Savage strode in without knocking, as he was wont to do. (No matter how many times you asked him not to.)

“Hey, what’s your progress on the Greenway account…oh,” said Nick, pausing where he stood.

He took note of Dean in the room and straightened his posture. His expression changed from its lazy gait, to a more tightened one. You swore you could spot a tinge of annoyance as well, like he was surprised that he hadn’t caught you alone in your office.

“I see I’m interrupting,” he said.

Holding in a sigh, you looked over at Dean and found him similarly assessing Nick.

“This is Dean. You might remember him from last week, when the elevator broke down. He’s one of the firefighters who got me out,” you said. Your hand fell on your companion’s arm. “Dean, this is—”

“Her boss,” Nick said. He seemed to lighten up and give Dean a smile, reaching over to shake the man’s hand. Dean obliged him.

“So I’ve heard,” he said. His tone was pleasant enough, but still more reserved.

Nick purposefully shifted his attention back to you.

“Report? Greenway account?” he repeated.

Your lips firmed into a line, though you slipped back into the professional patience you had to maintain at all times with this man.

“I’m still on my break, but I’ll have the report to you by end-of-day,” you said.

Nick tsked at you with a shrug. “How’re you gonna get that account locked down if you’re not trying to conference with Mr. Greenway? He’s headed to China in two hours.”

You had to reign in an annoyed tick in your brow. But you didn’t notice how Dean was watching the exchange between you and your boss with a thinly veiled frown.

“I’ve called three times, Nick. He’ll get back to me.”

“Hmm. I wonder if Josh is taking that same approach,” Nick wondered with mocking sincerity. “I’ll go ask him.”

He finally turned to leave, though he stopped short, giving Dean a lazy salute. “Nice to meet you…”

“Dean,” he reminded. 

“Right.” Nick slid a pointed finger your way. “Greenway. 2:00 p.m.”

You were silently simmering by the time your office door closed behind him. 

“Well, he’s a delight,” Dean remarked.  

“He’s a dick,” you huffed and tossed your napkin down. But you grabbed your desk phone to make a quick call—to Mr. Greenway.

Dean frowned, but he covered it up by wiping his mouth with a napkin, subtly clearing his throat.

“I should head out then, let you get back to work,” he said. 

His words made you pause. You had a reply ready on your tongue, that his suggestion was probably for the best.

But then you actually looked into his eyes. Guilt prickled in your chest as you realized what you were doing. Not only were you letting Nick get under your skin again, but here was a man who’d brought you lunch. Who was willing to sit in an uncomfortable chair to spend some time with you, and you were about to brush him off.

You hung up the phone without dialing. 

“No. I’m sorry. Stay, please,” you told him, and grabbed his arm to keep him in his seat. You pushed your desk phone away with your spare hand and gave Dean your full attention, along with a smile.

“Where were we?” you asked.

Finally, Dean’s reserved expression eased as he relaxed in his chair, and subtly leaned towards you. He thumbed at your cheek with a smirk.

“I don’t know, something about making it worth my while.”

You bit your lip on a deeper smile.

“Oh, yeah,” you nodded. You crossed the ever-closing distance to give Dean a proper kiss. Your hand found his cheek, and your thumb brushed back and forth across the stubble there. You tasted sweet, sweet pie on his lips. 

Even after you parted softly, Dean went back in for a second taste of you. This time it was deeper, as he angled into the kiss. He once again brought you close, just shy of dragging you into his lap.

His hand reached behind your head and succeeded in taking the clip out of your hair. He tossed it on your desk and sunk his hand into the soft strands while his lips continued to devour yours.

It was a small move, but you found it both soothing and exhilarating. You shuddered when you felt his fingers brush the back of your neck. It had you contemplating locking the door of your office and forgoing the rest of lunch…but your mind was competing with your heart, warning you to be cautious. To protect yourself. 

Really, you’d just met Dean. You had no idea what to expect here, even though your heart was tripping up over his slightest touch.

Still, your face was warm when you eventually parted from him. You chanced meeting his eyes, and you blushed further at what you saw.

The truth was, Dean had been contemplating laying you out flat across your desk. But he tried his best to keep it down to a simmer behind his eyes, a bright and gleaming green.

“Worth it?” you asked. Your voice was a mere whisper, despite your smile.

He returned it, and gave you one last kiss.

“So worth it,” he said. 

Dean wasn’t sure he liked this.

The start of his shift was usually the time for him to be relaxed, but focused. He knew who he was and what he needed to do when he entered the firehouse. It was his second home, perhaps even the place where he felt most comfortable.

And yet, he nearly burnt his hand while pouring himself a cup of coffee.

“Shit,” he muttered. He jolted and hopped back a step as scalding brown liquid splashed between his feet. It had Benny and Meg looking over from the common room, where they sat at the dining table.

Dean looked at the mess he created and tried not to sigh. He wasn’t awake enough for this…or maybe, he didn’t want to admit that he’d been thinking about you.

Your smile, your eyes, your voice, your occasional shyness, versus the way you dealt with your boss like a pro. Your confidence that was damn sexy, and had Dean imagining what you’d be like taking his orders, or giving them right back, shoving him down into a seat, straddling his thighs, his hands hiking up your skirt…

Dean shook his head a bit sharply to try and clear it.

He circled into the kitchen in need of a paper towel. But he bumped right into Jack, who was making breakfast. It sent the salt canister flying out of his hand and dumping into the pan of eggs.

“Oh, fuck. Sorry,” Dean said. He really did sigh this time. Now they’d have to wait even longer for breakfast.

“Uh, it’s okay. I can save it,” Jack said, though his brows were furrowed as he contemplated just how he was going to do that. He took a wooden spoon and tried to scoop out the mound of salt on the still-sizzling eggs.

Meanwhile, Dean’s lips pursed as he went over to grab a few paper towels. Once the mess by the coffeemaker was clean, he poured himself a tall cup and took a seat between his friends. Benny shot him a glance as he sipped at his own mug.

“You all right, brother?” Benny asked.

“Just fine,” Dean replied. He tried to sound breezy, but neither Benny or Meg bought it. She eyed him with a smirk.

“Heard you went on a date the other night,” she said. “A real one, with chocolates and flowers and all that shit.”

Dean shot her a sharper frown. “Who the hell told…oh. Perfect. Goddamn it, Cas.”

He should’ve known that big-mouth bastard couldn’t be trusted.

“Nope,” Meg said. Her eyes were dancing mischievously, and Dean knew he was in for it this morning. “Your little girlfriend is best friends with my cousin.”

She tossed a sly look at Benny. “You remember Andréa. You two were sucking face hardcore the other night. And giving quite a show to the local pedestrians. Have you called her yet, by the way?”

Benny cleared his throat, but he looked both unrepentant and tight-lipped about his business as he stayed sipping his coffee. Dean shot him a smirk. Until Meg directed her cutting gaze back to him.

“And you,” she said, just as slyly. “Dating your own damsel in distress. How fucking predictable.”

Dean’s lips firmed into a line, while Benny’s brows shot up.

“You really went for it with Elevator Girl?” he remarked in surprise. “I saw you two talkin’, but didn’t think you’d pulled the trigger.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “All right, first of all, let’s stop calling her ‘Elevator Girl.’ She’s got a name.”

Once he’d told them your name, however, their smiles deepened. And Dean knew it was about to be a long shift.

“Ooh, he’s got it bad, bad,” Benny shook his head.

Meg made a “cute” face at him and reached out to shake Dean’s chin, smirking when he slapped her hand away.

“Look at him, all twitterpated,” she teased.

“I’m fine,” Dean all but gritted out. 

Benny chuckled, but truthfully, he was happy for his friend. It seemed the time had finally come when Dean Winchester was hooked on a nice girl. Hopefully one he intended to keep seeing.

“If it’s that serious, you should bring her by the Roadhouse again,” Benny said.

Dean snorted into his coffee. “Yeah, like I’d want to subject her to you degenerate clowns.”

“Well, if you expect to keep it going with this girl, she’s gotta meet us eventually,” Meg pointed out. Dean shot her a look.

“Oh, she’s definitely not meetin’ you,” he said.

Meg’s brows knit together. “What? I’m perfectly pleasant.”

Before Dean could utter a retort, a familiar alarm bell tolled on the intercom speakers. There was a working house fire over in Bellmont—the wealthier part of town. Truck 79 and Rescue Squad 5 were called, along with Ambulance 7.

All hands on deck.

“Okay, Jack. You’re staying on my ass once we get in there. You got it?” Dean told the Candidate.

“Yes, Lieutenant,” Jack agreed. It was only his second real fire since he joined Firehouse 25.

By now the team was in full gear, with jackets and helmets and belts. The Chief, Bobby Singer, was at the helm. He and Dean shared a nod.

“All right, Dean. Head in. Lafitte and Ramirez will vent the roof,” he said. 

Dean nodded again. “You got it, Chief.”

While two of his team got the firehose ready, Dean fitted his mask over his face. Already the fire was at a full blaze. They had a limited time before the fire grew too wild to safely maneuver. They’d know when the flames started smoking black. The Chief would let them know on their walkie talkies, and Dean would have to pull his team out.

But first, there was a family of four trapped inside the large two-story house. He fully intended to get every single one of them out.

Thanks to the mask, he could hear his own deep breaths in his ears as he entered the house. A quick look back confirmed that Jack was on his heels, and Gordon was right behind him.

“Okay, clear each room. I’m going right, through the kitchen,” Dean called out the order.

“I’ll take left through the living room,” Gordon replied.

Dean shot a thumbs up. “Copy that.”

Then they got to work.

The flames were high and eating up the walls of what would’ve been a pristine open kitchen. The room was clear, so Jack and Dean kept moving forward until they reached a long hall. They had to hasten single file until Dean opened up the first bedroom with his crowbar.

“Fire Department, call out!” he shouted.

He didn’t hear anything, but that didn’t mean the room was clear. It was a child’s room, a girl if he had to guess. There were stuffed animals strewn across an unmade bed with pink bedsheets. He checked the closet while Jack looked under the bed. Neither man found anything.

“All right, moving on. First bedroom clear,” Dean said into his walkie talkie. “Going upstairs next.”

“Master bedroom clear,” Gordon commed in.

Jack and Dean continued to the second floor, where the flames were thickest. It was getting harder to see, and even harder to breathe, despite the mask.

“We’re almost outta time, fellas,” Bobby radioed.  

“Just a couple more rooms, Chief,” Dean responded. The first and second bathroom was clear, as was a linen closet in the hall. He had a feeling about this last room though.

He opened the door and nearly got a flaming piece of wall dropped on his head. He jumped back at the same time Jack helped pull him to safety.

Dean breathed deeply. He didn’t have time for thanks, but he reached back and pat Jack on the arm before he entered the bedroom. It was another child’s room, this time for a boy—with green walls, and a school uniform on the back of a chair.

“Fire Department!” he said, though it nearly died on his tongue at what he saw.

There in the far corner, on the other side of the twin bed, was a man kneeling on the floor. He was doing his best to cover his wife and kids. His back was charred beyond recognition.

Dean snapped to attention when he heard one of the kids whimper.

“Fire Department,” he repeated, as he rushed to them. He and Jack peeled the man off his family as carefully as he could. Dean hauled him onto his shoulder.

Meanwhile, the man’s wife was crying and holding her children as tight as possible: a boy that looked about 10 years old, and a young girl. The mother’s glassy eyes widened with hope when she saw Jack and Dean.

“We’re gonna get you out. Come on,” Dean reassured. His hand on her shoulder was both supportive and urging her up onto her feet. Jack helped get her kids up as well.

Gordon joined them as soon as they were out of the room. He picked up the boy while Jack carried the little girl, and Dean had an arm wrapped around the mother while he still carried the father on his shoulder. 

They made it out of the house just before the ceiling started to cave in at the doorway.

Meg and Chuck were waiting for them with a gurney, where Dean carefully laid down the man he carried. His wife hovered close with her kids as Meg began calling out instructions to her partner, trying to take the man’s vitals, all while they wheeled him towards the ambulance.

Just before they would’ve brought him up into the ambo, Meg halted them with a hand. Her other gloved hand was poised at the man’s wrist. She listened closely for a few more seconds in concentration…

And she sighed through her nose. She removed her stethoscope and met the wife’s eyes.

“I’m sorry. He’s gone.”

Dean’s heart fell into his stomach, but he held the woman as she fell apart. Jack and Gordon did the same for the kids. Behind them, the rest of the team were dousing the flames and black smoke consuming the house with the firehose. Chief Singer let out a heavy breath, but he continued issuing orders as needed.

Dean stared at the pale, soot-stained face of the man he’d failed to save. The woman’s cries rang in his ears, and he continued to support her as she fell to her knees and gathered her children close.

He understood their pain.

Not for the first time, he wondered what his father must’ve felt…the day his mother died.

Dean was a seasoned firefighter. He’d seen enough of the horrors this world could produce, and he had an internal catalogue of shit he’d rather forget. But he knew, as he later got back onto the truck for the long ride back to the firehouse.

He knew this day would be another one to be imprinted on his memory.

“You’re quiet,” Sam noted. He ate dinner in relative silence with his brother, in the apartment they shared. Dean met Sam’s eyes.

“Long day,” Dean eventually said.

Sam didn’t like the sound of that. Before he could probe further, Dean’s phone vibrated on the small dining table.

Dean slowly reached for his phone and saw the new text message, from you.

Hey, thanks again for lunch yesterday. Hope I get to see you again soon. ❤️

It briefly lightened him, almost bringing a smile to his face.

It soon fell, even though his thumb hovered over the keyboard to reply. His mind was blank. Right now, he couldn’t think of a damn thing flirtatious, or charming, or even human enough to say to you.

“Dean,” Sam said, earning his attention. “What’s wrong?”

Again, Dean hesitated. He blew out a slow, heavy breath and sat back in his seat. He ran his fingers roughly through his hair as he thought and thought.

But if anyone might’ve understood where his head was at, it was his brother.

“What do you think would’ve happened if Mom had made it out of the fire, instead of Dad?” Dean asked.

To say that question shocked Sam would be an understatement. Yet to his credit, Sam internalized most of his reaction. He tilted his head as his brows furrowed.

“I don’t know,” he replied honestly. Dean’s question was impossible for his mind to even wrap around; mostly because he never got the chance to meet his mother. The house fire claimed their home when Sam was barely six months old.

All he knew was his father, and Dean.

Dean shook his head and wiped a hand over his mouth, an anxious gesture Sam knew well. 

“She would’ve been just as messed up at Dad, but…I don’t know. Ignore me. I don’t know what the fuck I’m saying.”

“What made you think about that?” Sam asked.

“Today,” Dean said. Though he paused, he managed to say it. “It was a house fire. A mom and two little kids, boy and girl. Their dad just laid over ‘em, took the brunt of it.”

“Jesus…he didn’t make it, did he?” Sam deduced, from Dean’s eyes and his tone. Dean shook his head slow. 

“I’ve seen a lot of shit, Sammy, but…”

This was why Sam worried about his brother. He admired the hell out of him, but he also worried. 

Sam had a ring in his nightstand. He’d picked it out last month. Part of him was hesitating to move forward, not because he thought his girlfriend of three years would say no to marrying him, but because he didn’t want his brother to be alone.

“You don’t have to look at me like that. I’m okay,” Dean said, levying him with a knowing look. His lips gave a wry turn. “Nothing a couple shots of Jameson won’t cure.”

Sam snorted. “Yeah, that’s what you need.”

“Right. Like I haven’t caught you up late with your mistress, Johnny Walker,” Dean tossed back.

Sam’s lips pursed, but the point was made. He spent his days putting murderers, drug dealers, rapists, and thieves on trial. Some days were darker and more unreal in their realism than others. And he could only burden Eileen so much.

Still, he didn’t like the look of Dean, who got up from the table and took his half-full plate of spaghetti to the sink.

Dean went up to his room and showered. He’d done so at the station, but showering was one of those methodical things he could do to try to ease his mind, besides working on his car. It provided an alternative to drinking. 

But it didn’t work this time, as he knew it wouldn’t. He lied in bed after getting dressed, just staring up at the ceiling. 

He checked his phone and saw your text, still waiting on an answer. He hesitated…but his thumb hovered over your name. He called you instead.  

“Hey,” your soft voice greeted him. You sounded surprised to get his call, but also a little sleepy, like you were on the verge of going down for the night.

“Hey, yourself,” Dean said. “Sorry, were you about to get to sleep?”

“No, I’m awake. What’re you up to?”

“I’m home. Been a long day,” he admitted. 

“Yeah?” you asked. “Dean, are you okay?”

He heard the perceptive shift in your tone. Against his best efforts, he should’ve known you would pick up on the threads of his mood. But he smiled at the sincerity in your voice. True concern. 

“Yeah. I’m good, sweetheart. How’re you?”

“Uh-uh. Not so fast,” you replied. “…Did something happen at work today?”

He sighed. “Yeah, but uh…we don’t need to get into it. It’s okay.”

“You sure?” you asked. “I’m a good listener.”

“That you are,” he said, with a deeper smile. “You know what’ll help me?”

“What’s that?”

“Tell me, how bad did you wanna knuckle-dunk your boss’s teeth in today?” 

“Oh my God. On a scale of 1 to 10?”

“Lay it on me.”

“20,” you replied. “You met him, so now I can tell you without exaggeration. He’s the Chief Asshat among asshats.”

Dean chuckled. It crinkled the corners of his eyes.

“What’d he do this time?”

You explained your latest frustrations. Then you continued to make him laugh with all the creative ways you’d imagined ending your boss for his dickish behavior, demanding reports, pitting you against your coworkers, being a general pain in the ass. 

The rusty can opener in the break lounge was Dean’s personal favorite. 

Hearing about your day, and the colorful adjectives you used, managed to lighten him. For a little while, it even took his mind off his troubles. And you admitted that venting to him about your violent fantasies was its own form of therapy. 

“Damn, do I gotta worry about you?” Dean teased. 

“Only if you get on my bad side, Lieutenant,” you said. Your voice was nearly a purr.

It had him smirking, with a tendril of heat lacing down the back of his neck. 

“All right, then. I promise I won’t make it a habit,” he said. “Gotta keep you nice and sweet for me.” 

You laughed then, in a way that had him imagining your pretty smile. 

He ended up talking with you about everything and nothing, well into the night.

AN: 🥹 *sighs* Anywho, I know this chapter was a little shorter than usual, but I hope you got a kick out of Dean's first meeting with Nick. And we got a snapshot of an unfortunate "bad day" at the firehouse.

In Part 6, we'll get deeper into the murder mystery, along with a taste of jealousy...

Next Time:

“Uh, no, that’s okay,” you said. “I’m waiting for someone.”

“What?” Gordon asked.

It was getting busy in the bar, making it loud enough that you could understand why he hadn’t heard you. You leaned over towards his ear.

“I’m good for now, thanks,” you said, raising your voice a bit. Gordon leaned in even closer and chanced resting a hand above your knee.

“You sure?” he asked. He gave you a smile that was all smooth sex appeal and confidence, without being arrogant. It was undoubtedly attractive, but you were more shocked than charmed in your blush.

You instinctively leaned back when you felt his hand on your thigh.

Keep Reading: PART 6

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Series Tag List (Part 1):

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@vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @roseblue373 @this-is-me19 @emily-winchester @spnexploration @deans-spinster-witch @deans-baby-momma @iprobablyshipit91

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[heartfullofleeches]

I imagine that werewolf bodyguard reader has a big appetite so I'd like to think they'll cuddle up to anyone that offers them food, may i please request an affectionate wolfie reader?

Skipped lunch again... Something you shouldn't with strength being your most contributing factor, but with so many prying eyes recently you were dedicated to your post. You eventually crawled away with your tail tucked between your legs as the howls from your empty stomach alerted your fellow guards. You'd serve no use to the team in this state and thus you excused yourself to scrounge around for something quick to hold you off until you got off. You could probably eat an entire city with how your hunger pains clawed at the lining of your stomach - but a sandwich would do for now.

"Y/n! Come here for a sec, we got something for ya!"

The smell hits your nose before their whistle catches your ear. Mouthwatering chicken, hot out of the fryer. You sniff around, following your keen sense of smell to the bed of a truck where two of your coworkers sat with a large plastic bag between them. The bag was tilted on one side and you could see the bucket full of golden chicken within. You wipe the corners of your mouth as you address them.

"Need me for something?"

"Guess you could say that. We were just on break and saw this local joint was still open at this hour so we stopped by for a bite. Noticed you'd been on your feet all day and brought you a treat for your hard work."

The non-speaking party pulls out the bucket and places it on the floor of the trunk. It pains you to tear your eyes away. If you had one, you'd need it all. "Maybe some other time. I don't get off for another hour."

"Aw, don't be like that! Our wolf needs their strength. Just a couple bites, yeah?" The guard grabs a drumstick and waves it at you. You will your eyes shut, but the smell lingers and takes pilot of your feeble mind. You climb aboard the truck bed, squeezing between the two as you hold their wrist steady. You strip the bone of its meat in the matter of seconds, setting your head on the lap of its giver as you chew. Your arms hook around their leg; teeth snatching the bits of chicken they offer as their companion rubs your back; gently reminding you to chew before swallowing with a tap to your shoulder blades.

You swore you stop after one more piece. You had a post to return to and a boss depending on your loyalty. One turned into three til you'd eaten three quarters of what was intended to feed a family of six. You lay between the pair sluggish and a sponge for their soft pats and praise. It reminds you of being the runt of the litter being given extra attention - something you hadn't been in a long time. Couldn't say you didn't miss the treatment despite being bigger than most humans you'd met thus far.

When a hand comes to stroke your jaw you find yourself leaning against it as your head hangs from the weight of fatigue. Your lips rest on their wrist and you instinctively nestle into their warmth as your breathing slows. The heavy bounce of a heel on concrete drags you from sleep and towards the unamused, jealous gaze of your boss.

"Evening, Y/n. You two."

Crumbs fall off your face as you sit upright. "Evening, boss...."

"I believe I've told you before about spoiling them with junk food. In the car, Y/n. Now."

Expecting to be chewed out for abandoning your post you're surprised to end up at a fancy steakhouse after a silent drive. Sitted at the table already stacked with nearly every meal on the menu, the waitress sets a fork and knife in front of your boss while leaving you with no utensils.

"Um... can I get a fork too?"

Your boss cuts a piece of meat and holds the fork to your lips. "No. This is your punishment for skipping lunch and not asking me to bring you food first. You are not leaving this table until these plates are licked clean."

Your stomach grows. "I'm not sure if that will really be a challenge..."

[corroded-hellfire]

Prompt Day 9: The Hideout

Word Count: 998

Rating: T

Pairing: Eddie x Reader

CW: Language, asshole date (not Eddie)

Summary: One of the five regular drunks brings a date, and Eddie doesn't like how he treats her.

@corrodedcoffinfest

“Everyone having a good time tonight?” Eddie asks into the microphone as he adjusts its height. 

It’s a typical Tuesday night at The Hideout and Corroded Coffin just stepped on stage. They’ve been doing this for months now, a routine that any of them could go through in their sleep. Eddie knows if he looks up from the mic that there will be five drunks out in the crowd, and he can tell you where each of them is sitting and what they’re drinking. 

“You want another drink, honey?”

That’s the voice of the guy who sits off to the right, at the table that wobbles a little, and who drinks gin and tonics. Sometimes he’ll shout out requests after his fifth or sixth drink. Drunk Number Three is how Eddie refers to him in his own mind. But he’s usually sitting alone, so Eddie’s curiosity is piqued. Are there six drunks in the audience tonight?

Once the mic stand is secured, Eddie lifts his head and looks out at the sparsely populated bar. His eyes immediately land on the anomaly.

Across the table from Drunk Number Three there’s a girl who can’t be much older than Eddie is, and by the pretty red sweater, black skirt, tights, and heels, it’s a safe assumption to say she’s on a date with this guy. That thought alone blows Eddie’s mind because how in the hell did that loser get someone like you to go out with him? You don’t particularly look like you’re having a good time, either. Arms folded against your chest, one leg crossed over the other, your whole body facing away from the guy to look towards the stage, and the irritated look on your beautiful face clue Eddie in that the evening isn’t going so well for you. 

“I said, do you want—”

“No,” you cut off Drunk Number Three, looking at him from the corner of your eye. “I haven’t finished this drink yet.”

When your gaze shifts back to the stage, it immediately locks with Eddie’s. Your annoyed exterior cracks when you see the lead singer looking at you. A small, but very real, smile grows on your face, and it stirs a giddy roiling in Eddie’s stomach.

Gareth clears his throat, and Eddie tries his best to get back into the regular Tuesday night groove. 

“We’re Corroded Coffin, as I’m sure most of you regulars know. Let’s have some fun tonight.”

On the count off, Gareth clicking the drumsticks together, the guys launch into their first song of the evening: You’re in Love by Ratt.

Eddie finds it ironic that he can’t keep his eyes away from you for longer than fifteen seconds while they play the only song in their set about love. 

It’s never been easier for Eddie to sing this song than it is right now. He’s singing it to you and only you, and he wishes there was some way that you could know that. 

Later in the set, when there’s a song about burning hatred, Eddie can’t help but aim it in the direction of Drunk Number Three. He’s ignored you most of the night, preferring the company of his drink. You don’t seem bothered by that in the least though. 

The set is just about at its close and the guys start to play Nothing Else Matters—possibly the song Eddie enjoys playing the most. But before the band even gets to the chorus, a hushed conversation increasingly becomes louder, to the point where Eddie keeps looking at you not because of how beautiful you are, but because he’s worried. 

Drunk Number Three reaches across the table and wraps his hand around your upper arm harshly.

Fire ignites inside Eddie’s veins and the world has been splashed in crimson, he’s so mad. 

Stopping mid song, Eddie pulls his guitar strap over his head and sets it down on stage before he jumps off and stalks in the direction of your table. He’s not sure what he’s going to do when he gets there, but you beat him to it anyway.

You pull your arm free from the asshole’s grip and stand up. Delicate fingers wrap around the glass that is still half full of your drink, and you throw the alcohol in Drunk Number Three’s face.

An angry groan rumbles from the guy’s chest as he rises from his seat. You take the opportunity to strike, pushing the wobbly table at your date, shoving the edge right into his crotch. The groan turns into a whimper as the man bends forward in pain. 

“Get the fuck out of here,” Eddie snarls at the man, pointing towards the door. 

One of the bartenders and a security guard step in and help the drunken jerk find his way out.

Eddie’s pulse is raging in anger, but when he looks down and meets your eyes, anger fades and his heartbeat kicks up a notch.

“Are you okay?” Eddie asks. 

“I’m fine,” you say, your voice only intensifying Eddie’s lovesickness. “Thank you. I’m sorry we interrupted your show.”

“No, don’t worry about that,” Eddie says. “As long as you’re okay.”

“I am.” 

The sincerity in Eddie’s words has you giving him a giddy smile. 

Eddie’s not sure what he should do now. Does he say goodbye? Does the band restart the song and finish the show? Does he stay down here with the pretty girl that he wants nothing more than to talk to? 

“You, uh, don’t seem to have a drink anymore. Can I buy you one?”

“I would really like that.”

Eddie grins and motions for you to walk towards the bar. Before he follows, he turns around to look at his friends that he left on stage. Jeff is giving him a thumbs up, Frank is nodding, and Gareth makes shooing motions so that Eddie follows the girl. 

Eddie chuckles before he turns around and follows you to the bar. 

God, I have the best friends. 

[pepsiboyy]

HEARTSTRINGS. - p5

p4 ⚜ masterlist ⚜ p6

pairing: chris sturniolo x fem!reader summary: after moving to massachusetts from florida, y/n lives with her half brother, nathan doe, who is part of a small garage band. their sassy guitarist, chris sturniolo, can't help but get on her nerves. but there's something about him. warnings: use of y/n lol, cursing, fluff a/n: HIIII sorry for the wait!!! ive been adding to this chapter as time goes on and this is the final product because i know yall have been waiting for it <3 love you guys so much thanks for the support!!!

"i got us a show!" nathan exclaimed, his eyes just as wide as his smile as he gripped a piece of paper, waving it in front of him.

i clasped my hands together in excitement, and smiled brightly. "yes!! where?"

"soundwave lounge!" nathan smiled warmly as he handed the paper to chris, who held it out for ben to see as well.

everyone had such a bright smile.

i smiled as i watched chris's excitement run through him.

"i think we're good to go, we just need a vocalist," chris mumbled, as everyone slowly averted their gaze towards me.

i blinked a few times as i chuckled nervously. "me?" i choked out.

"yeah, you'd be great!" nathan happily wrapped an arm around my shoulders, pulling me in and looking towards chris and ben with a wide smile.

i stared at chris for a moment, who gave me a reassuring smile, before i spoke up. "fine, maybe."

chris and i had been seeing each other for about a week and a half now. he would often spend the night with nathan, who would fall asleep quickly, prompting chris to come to my room and spend time with me.

it was nice, having him around. i found out that the two of us have a lot more in common than i ever could have guessed.

we decided to keep it a secret from nathan and our other bandmate, ben, for the sake of keeping things private. that, and we had no idea how nathan would react.

"whatcha thinkin' about?" chris's voice rang softly, ripping me from my thoughts as he ran a hand through my hair softly.

i smiled softly at him as i shrugged and sighed. "i can't believe you guys want me as a vocalist." i whispered. "i feel like i can hardly sing."

"i'm sure you're great.. don't ever put yourself down." chris immediately reassured, his eyes fixated on me. he hated when i got into self-deprecating moods. which was often.

i sighed and nodded. "would i be singing the lyrics that you've been working on?" i asked softly, looking at chris as he shot me a quick shrug.

"probably. i don't really know. we can figure it out." he whispered, pressing a kiss to my forehead as he sighed and sat up. "it's goin' on three o'clock. i should probably go lay down." he whispered.

i nodded softly as i shot him a quick smile. "sleep well, 'kay?"

chris stood to his feet and stood up, sending me a quick nod and a wave. "you too."

and just as he got to the door, he swung back around on his heel and quickly made his way over to plant a kiss to my forehead.

i reached up to press my hand to the back of his neck, pulling his lips against mine.

as he pulled away, i shot him a smile.

and then he left quietly.

my eyes peeled open at the abrupt sound of drums slamming against one another downstairs.

i rubbed my eyes and slowly rose from my bed, my hair in every possible direction. i didn't care though. what i cared about was the drums playing at fucking 10am.

"what the hell are you guys doing?" i stated loudly, but nothing was loud with the sound of them playing. i stepped a bit closer, where chris finally seemed to notice my presence and stopped playing.

before anyone could notice, he shot me a soft smile.

"oh hey, y/n," nathan stated, his body leaning over to set down the drumsticks.

"why are you guys playing so goddamn early?" i stated firmly, rubbing my eyes.

"we have to practice for our show. it's tomorrow!" nathan stated with a wide smile, making my jaw drop.

"tomorrow!? i was thinking like a week or something?" i sighed as i moved to sit between nathan and chris.

"same here, but most we can do is practice to the best of our ability." ben stated, his eyes averting to the side.

everyone seemed to share a glance. he was being unusual.

"right. well. i'm gonna run inside and get a drink. can i get you guys anything?" i asked softly.

they all shook their heads, except for chris, who begged for a pepsi.

i chuckled and nodded, making my way quickly to the kitchen to go ahead and grab chris and i both a pepsi.

the trip was quick. i tip-toed back into the garage as i wasn't wearing any shoes. "here ya go."

chris smiled warmly at me.

the way his eyes creased as he smiled, the way his teeth poked from his mouth as he bit onto his bottom lip softly and his cheeks grew a soft shade of pink. his hair slightly damp from playing in the warmth of the garage. god, he was stunning. his hand gently grazed mine as he took the pepsi, shooting shocks through my skin.

"thanks," chris stated softly, before turning back to his guitar.

i blinked a few times before i made my way over to my chair again and allowed my eyes to look over everyone, ben's eyes locked on chris.

a few hours had gone by. ben had left, and chris, of course, was spending the night.

his fingers gently grazed the guitar strings as he hummed to himself and played, his eyes glued to his own hand.

he was sitting at the edge of the bed playing quietly and occasionally glancing at me with a soft smile, where i couldn't help but sit and admire him from where i was. "how long have you been playing guitar?" i spoke up, sitting up slightly.

"mmm. since like junior high. i dabbled and got more interested as time went on." he smiled at the thought as he remembered playing a lot more back in high school.

i nodded as i listened and hummed softly. "you're really good."

"thanks."

"mhm."

we sat in silence for a few moments before chris moved to set the guitar down. carefully, he crawled towards me and rested his head against my chest, his body between my legs.

"i hope that once the stress dies down, we can tell your brother about us." he stated softly.

a warm smile appeared on my lips as i nodded softly and sighed contently as i moved a hand to brush through his curly, brunette locks. "i agree."

"i like you a lot." chris admitted softly.

i couldn't see his face from the position we were in, but i could see his ears growing red. i chuckled softly as i wrapped my arms gently around his head and pulled him infinitely closer to me. "i like you too."

we sat in a comfortable silence, my eyes locked on the ceiling with a soft smile until i felt chris's breathing slow to a rhythmic, peaceful pace. i smiled to myself as i continued to caress his hair gently.

and for a few hours, i let him sleep there in my arms.

nathan's tongue stuck out from between his lips in focus as he set up his drumset on the stage.

i, on the other hand, stood awkwardly. "can i help at all?"

"i think we got it," nathan would quickly reply.

the guys were setting up for their show today. they had practiced a lot yesterday and a bit before they began packing things up today.

my eyes couldn't leave chris. he looked great today. like every day. damn.

one of the managers of the event they were performing at stepped onto the stage, eyes glued to a watch on his wrist. "alright guys, doors open in fifteen. we lookin' good?"

everyone shot up, their eyes looking at the man before exchanging glances and nodding. "yeah, we should be good in just a few minutes," ben stated.

i shifted to move backstage. nathan ran off to the restroom with chris, and.. i'm not really sure where ben went.

"hey, y/n?"

i turned my head to the side and met eyes with the bassist, blinking a few times. "oh, hey ben. are you pumped for your show?"

he gave me a half smile before he stepped closer to me.

"hey, i really wanted to talk with you about something."

i looked at ben for a moment and swallowed. i nodded softly. please don't ask me for life advice. not really my thing.

"look, i think i really like you, i think you're gorgeous and-"

what the fuck?

my eyes widened as i attempted to regain composure. "ben, i don't think-"

"i'd really like to take you on a date. i know your brother is my friend and stuff, but-"

i lifted my hands to hold in front of me in defense as i felt my stomach turn. "ben, i don't-"

"would you consider?" he stated softly.

we sat in silence as i stared at him.

well this is awkward.

"i don't... really feel the same way."

i watched ben's shoulders slump.

"sorry." i quickly apologized. "i- uhh. you'll do great tonight-" i stated quickly before retreating to nathan and chris who had just returned from the restroom.

chris furrowed his eyebrows at me as i literally walked right behind him and stood there. he could tell something had happened, but decided to ask me later.

nathan, on the other hand, was so pumped.

"guys, we're gonna destroy this tonight!!" he stated quickly, giving everyone a fist bump. "y/n, cheer so hard from over here!" he smiled widely, and i nodded eagerly.

"i will, don't worry!"

as a few minutes went by, the boys got called to get ready to get on stage.

i wished them luck, and bit my lip as i watched them step out, some cheers heard from outside to hype them up.

what the hell just happened??

p4 ⚜ masterlist ⚜ p6

taglist;; @sturnsxplr-25 @vampiree-555 @wh0resstuff @jetaimevous @sturnioloshacker @nickgetsmewetter @matthewsturniolosgirlfriend101 @chrissgirlsstuff @nsjsnshey @sturniolosarethebest @sofie-1 @sturniololol @veysxrge @587528382527 @sturniolostars @larnieboox88 @eliana-4200 @fratbrochrisgf @sturniolostars @chrisgetsmewet @55sturn

[divinelolita]

🤨🤨🤨

ngl i jus thought of some cute ass mf shi

bro

full band(separately cuz i can never choose) who got a bf who copies them like picks up there habits bro☹🤞🏾

yk how tom waddles? yea bro does that shi and prolly started twirling things between his fingers or smth

STOP AND WAT IF BILLS BF IS A SINGER AND STARTED DOIN BILLS LEG LIFT THINGIES AND SMALL LIL DANCES BRO😭

and i swear if reader prolly isn't german or has a different accent they jus picked it up on accident(mfs lookin at bro weird like u dont talk like that🤨)

bro prolly pronounced his r's jus fine till he met tom🧍🏾💀

BAND X 'COPYCAT' READER

kjhwexvxejhvjkhvjvjvhvhbje

BILL:

・He thinks it's quite cute!

・Actually flustered and happy you're acting like him, like i dunno he feels important 🤷🏻

・OH MY GOD THE FUCKING LIL LEG LIFTSSSSAKSDXBJHXEQWJBHDXJHBE

・Giggles whenever he sees you do it on stage, later calling you out.

"You're such a copycat, M/N."

"Mmm...you still love me though."

・mmmm true that, true that.

・If you copy his edgar walk he'd start cackling dear LORDDD

・he thinks that shit is so fuckin funnyyy

TOM:

・Bro's smug about it 💀

"You wanna be me so badly, huh?"

・nahh he's jus playing he loves this shit

・Feels so special when he sees you do things he would originally do omggg

・But if you start waddling like a penguin he thinks your mocking him in a bad way 😭

"M/N why the fuck are you walking like that-"

"....walkin' like what?"

・his habit of making loud noises/squeals when he's excited or happy is picked up by you

・He can't help but smile whenever he sees you do this 🙏

GEORG:

・He doesn’t really notice it until somebody else brings it up

・Like maybe Tom would bring up a habit you would copy, and then it would click to Georg.

・Thinks it's cute and kinda cool, but he if you pick up on his accent

"M/N why are you talking like that..."

"wha'chu mean?"

"M/N."

・Like he thinks you sound so cute but babes you do NOT talk like thatttt 🙅🏻🙅🏻🙅🏻🙅🏻

・if you copy his lil smirk AHHHH

・He'd start to absentmindedly pick up on some of your habits too

GUSTAV:

・HEROJDJHBRKHBE HE'S SO HAPPYYYY

・Like if you picked up his habit of two long something between your fingers (whether it be a pen, drumstick, etc)

・IFFF you didn't master it he'd kinda help 😇

"You're doing it wrong."

"..what-"

"Here, lemme help."

・Due to him having to keep the correct beat on the drums, he'd most likely have a habit of tapping his heel against the ground

・If you copy it he'd go in sync with you without noticing AHHHHERBJH

・He may not say it, but he loves it so much.

[scarletcomalies]

distant star

Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Word count: 3,428

A/N: Age Of Ultron Wanda because asdkghjksñlfñ why not?!

Warnings: Angst, unspoken feelings, you name it!

Pietro Maximoff recognized talent wherever he saw it, and that's how he made you a member of the band whose lead vocalist and guitarist was his twin sister Wanda Maximoff. Not knowing how or when, all the songs you wrote ended up being about her.

"Alright, let's go over it again."

You rolled your eyes and let out a dramatic sigh, pretending to be annoyed at the brunette's request.

"Don't look at me, look at Pietro who completely messed up in the second verse!" Wanda exclaimed defensively, as she raised her arms in a mock surrender.

"But sing louder, I could run a marathon with the distance you set between you and the microphone!" He protested.

"Oh, shush!" Wanda exclaimed. "It's not about whether I sing loud or not, it's about your bass following a certain pattern and be guided by my guitar! Every time I play this chord, you must follow me..."

You laughed lightly at the little argument that was going on between the twins for maybe the third time throughout the rehearsal. It had barely been twenty minutes.

"Come on, guys!" You interjected. "If you keep arguing this frequently, night will fall, and you know how my mom is when it comes to noise."

Your house possessed a spacious and ideal garage that was perfect for a band to spent its beginnings with. Because of this, you generously offered your house as a rehearsal space most of the time.

However, there was a slight hitch in this arrangement. Your mother, like the Tess Coleman character straight out of one of your favore movies "Freaky Friday", she had the habit of turning off the power switch in the garage as soon as night time came.

Both Wanda and Pietro stopped their argument, and exchanged one last accusatory look, almost as if to say, "You are to blame."

"Clint, you count..." Wanda turned to the drummer, and subsequently, he gathered his drumsticks and did the counting.

You weren't sure how or when you started to sense this, but you knew it when you noticed that you stopped looking down at your guitar and instead, kept your eyes on her, and memorized every gesture she tended to make; frowning or wrinkling her nose during high notes, closing her eyes throughout the whole melody, moving her heel to the sound of her guitar, and your favorite one, when she opened her eyes just to dedicate you glances of approval every time you did a solo with your guitar.

You thought maybe it was the energy and passion Wanda put into every note, as you marveled at the way she gave herself completely to the music, but you realized it was beyond admiration when every song you wrote ended up being a loving ode to every aspect that made her up. Even when you tried to write a funny song about partying, you somehow ended up redirecting it to the woman next to you.

"And so I watch you from afar, like a distant star...

For I'll always love you, but you'll never know...

Ink and paper, my silent confidantes they are…

They seem to whisper, 'Your secret's safe,' as emotions flow..."

Wanda concluded the last song you wrote for her, and this time, it turned out incredibly. You knew it when she let out that sigh of satisfaction that only happened when neither of you messed up a note.

"Another love song, and we don't know your muse," Clint commented, placing his drumsticks on the snare drum.

"I don't have a muse," you excused yourself, and as if it were instinct, you looked at Wanda, who was very busy tuning her guitar.

"I don’t believe you," Pietro stated, as he placed his left arm around your shoulder, while his free hand held the neck of his bass as it rested on his side.

"Come on, I just... write whatever comes to mind," you shrugged. "I don't think of anyone specific, and they don't mean anything."

Both Pietro and Clint scoffed in disbelief, clearly not buying your attempt to brush off their accusation.

“Come on, there has to be some-…” Pietro said.

“Enough,” Wanda interrupted him, and you sighed in relief, sending a thankful look her way. “Whether there is a muse or not, you have every right to tell us when you feel like it. And if that day never comes, that’s okay too,” she added.

“Thank you, Wanda!” You exclaimed, emphasizing those three words as you glanced at your two male bandmates, who were very nosy about your love life.

Pietro withdrew his arm from around your shoulders, but not before giving you a little nudge to annoy you for being spared further questions.

"Now, do you have your three song suggestions for the setlist?" The brunette changed the subject.

In a month's time, perhaps the biggest presentation you would have so far would take place, as a well-known bar gave you a space, and besides, it was going to be Halloween. The four of you were excited, and very determined to seriously connect with the audience, and not just be a very irrelevant background noise for people who were only focused on getting drunk.

After having rehearsed your own songs for a week straight, it was time to focus on the covers. Each of the band members had the right to suggest three songs to elaborate the setlist for this presentation, and you would be the first to make your choice known.

"Break In by Halestorm and Amy Lee," Wanda read the first title, and nodded with a smile. "Things I'll Never Say by Avril Lavigne," she continued. "Oh! Lovesong by The Cure?!”

"Yes..." you said in a hesitant tone.

"Are we seeing the same person who for the last show made us play Angel's Punishment by Lacuna Coil?" Clint exclaimed from his seat, while laughing.

"Oh! My throat still hurts from doing those gutturals," Pietro seconded, rubbing his throat in a dramatic manner.

"Lacuna Coil is an excellent band," you justified.

"And Pietro, you insisted on doing those gutturals, when I could have done them Maria Brink style," Wanda added. "Speaking of which, how about Scarlet by In This Moment? It's among my suggestions actually..." she changed the subject again, to evade another interrogation towards you.

And so, with each passing rehearsal afternoon, your feelings for Wanda became more and more unbearable, and thus, more and more noticeable.

So notorious, that Pietro and Clint were fully aware that all those songs you couldn't stop writing were about her. And therefore, their insistence was no longer about you revealing the identity of your muse, instead, their new goal was to convince you to confess to her.

"(Y/N), my little sister would melt for you just by knowing that you wrote songs for her," Pietro tried to persuade you, following you into the kitchen of your house with the excuse of helping you carry ice for the drinks you would take to the garage.

"And what if she doesn't? What if she finds me weird?" You countered. "She had zero interest in knowing who the person I was writing for was."

"Exactly!" Pietro exclaimed, clearly seeing it from a different point of view than you.

And more of these conversations took place whenever Wanda wasn't around, and to say you were fed up was an understatement.

You were afraid to risk the beautiful, deep-rooted friendship that had blossomed between you and the brunette ever since Pietro introduced her to you seven months ago and said: "I got us a main guitarist."

So frequent became those sleepovers where you would listen to your favorite music, watch classic movies from the 2000s, and have deep conversations until two in the morning. Pietro would jump at the bed at early hours in the morning, asking Wanda to make him pancakes since he was nice enough to give up the TV so you guys could use it.

She also had a sixth sense that seemed to provide her the ability to appear when you needed her the most, as your eyes would sparkle with excitement every time you heard the doorbell ring and subsequently saw Wanda from your window with a basket full of both of you guys' favorite snacks, and her guitar in hand, which meant she would take you to the park to compose songs in a notebook you shared, with the purpose of distracting you from whatever happened that day. Even though the notebook you wrote in didn't have a single free space, and was full of scratches and notes, you didn't have the heart to throw it away.

That was just the tip of the iceberg. That was why it frustrated you that your male bandmates would take so lightly something as delicate as telling your best friend that you were head over heels in love with her, so you clung to your secret love, treasuring it like a fragile shadow that resided within you.

And so, the big day came. Pietro, Clint, Wanda and you took your positions on the small stage in the bar. Within the crowd, you noticed a few familiar faces, and a feeling of happiness invaded you as you realizes that you were slowly reaching a point where you could say you had a few loyal fans already.

"Good evening, everyone!" Wanda's accent added a little bit of allure to her words, drawing everyone's attention. "Thank you for joining us tonight!"

And with that, the first song started, as soon as Clint counted in with a rhythmic tap of his drumsticks.

As you gracefully played your guitar along with Wanda's, you couldn't tear your gaze away from her. You remembered vividly how the light casted a mesmerizing glow around her, and she always maintained those little habits while she performed, not to mention that astonishing voice of hers, that could go from raspy to high pitched, from sorrowful to joyful in a matter of seconds.

You didn't care if the entire audience noticed the intensity of your gaze. In fact, you were proud to declare, even silently, that you were deeply in love with Wanda Maximoff. The passionate emotion in your lyrics seemed to resonate even more as she poured her heart into every word, and there you realized that, even mindlessly, the brunette seemed to understand your feelings more than anyone else.

"I want you to meet the incredibly talented musicians who make up this band," Wanda said as soon as the audience finished applauding, her enthusiasm made you smile automatically. "On main guitar, we have the amazing (Y/N)," she gestured towards you, and you did a small reverence as everyone cheered you with applause and whistles. "On bass, my twin brother Pietro, who's older by thirteen minutes... so whenever he brags about being the older sibling, just remember, it's only by thirteen minutes!" She joked, and Pietro burst out in laughter as he also greeted at the public with a wide grin plastered on his face. "On drums, we have the talented Clint!" She gestured towards the drummer's way, and he stood up as he waved at everyone. "And... I'm Wanda, the rythm guitarist and vocalist."

The evening continued, and so far, all those rehearsals had been worth it, for there were a considerable number of people jumping and clapping animatedly, and for every time you looked away from Wanda to look at the audience, it seemed as if the number doubled.

Until it came time to introduce the last song you had written about the woman next to you.

It held a significance to you beyond comprehension, and although you had seen her rehearse it multiple times, there was something different about that night that was going to make it more magical than the other times.

"The next song was written by my beloved main guitarrist," Wanda said into the microphone, and the entire audience clapped and whistled in a form of support for you. "I always thought it was a beautiful song, but now I can say that this one has a face, and... a name," she added, and again, everyone in the audience applauded. You turned to face Pietro, who shrugged, and as you turned to face Clint, he looked as confused as you.

"This last song I would like to dedicate to my dear Vision, the man who I have secretly loved for so long, and two weeks ago, he came to me and confessed what I thought impossible, he reciprocated."

It felt as if as if a thousand swords pierced right towards your heart, shattering it into a million pieces as her words echoed through the room.

Every memory you shared with Wanda came crashing down upon you, each one of them feeling like a heavy brick that fell over you, until they slowly buried you. You thought, only in death was it possible to experience such a thing, but you were wrong, the agony of heartbreak was just as overwhelming.

"There you are... hi, darling!" She giggled, and Vision shyly laughed as he greeted the public around him.

You glanced at his direction, and there he was, with his blonde hair and glasses, the man who took everything from you... but objectively talking, he was simply the man who took the chance you always took for granted, and therefore, you ended up missing.

But even then, you forced yourself to swallow your heart that was threatening to come out of your throat, and began to play the corresponding chords. You hadn't invested so many weeks of dedication for a moment of weakness to make you throw away all that effort.

"And so I watch you from afar, like a distant star...

For I'll always love you, but you'll never know...

Ink and paper, my silent confidantes they are…

They seem to whisper, 'Your secret's safe,' as emotions flow..."

Somehow, you were grateful for that small work of mercy that the universe had for you, as you didn't know how you would have survived if you had not chosen this song as the closing song.

As soon as you left the stage, you made your way to the outside of the bar, almost hoping that your feelings were an object that you could simply forget about in there, but the reality was that they were chasing you until you drowned.

"(Y/N)?" You heard Pietro's voice, behind you, and you ran to him desperately seeking comfort, like a soul in sorrow that had just been banished from all that could have been a valley of angels.

As soon as you felt the warmth of his body, you burst into tears. It wasn't just the pain that Wanda had found someone else, but the fact that she had taken something as sacred as words spoken from the most vulnerable part of your heart and addressed them to another individual as if they were a crumbled piece of paper that she could toss, not caring where it landed.

"I swear I had no idea," Pietro whispered, stroking your head as he rested his chin on your head. "Vision was a family friend, but she never gave any signs, never mentioned anything."

The older twin's shirt was stained with your tears, as the merciless cold threatened to freeze you both right there, but despite the multiple signals your body was sending through shivering and shuddering sighs, you remained in the same place letting the silence of the street drag with it your sobs and wails for a love that was never yours.

Pietro took you home after an hour, and embraced you, while your tears clouded your sight until it was completely obscured, making you fall into a deep sleep, as if your body had taken pity on you and knocked you out to mitigate the pain that was eating away at you.

The next day, Clint arrived with boats of ice cream in an attempt to cheer you, and comforted you as much as physically possible. Each one of them, in their unique way, seemed willing to take every piece of you and put it back together, like you were their very own human kintsugi, making you even more resilient than you were before the chaos shattered you.

Wanda showed up after a week, her patience worn thin by the deafening silence that had persisted ever since what was supposed to be your big night. Her concern for you had grown, and she couldn't stand the thought of her messages going unanswered any longer.

"Hey," she greeted you, and judging by her smile, she seemed so oblivious that it somehow relieved you. Even in the midst of all your sorrow, all you wanted was for her to choose her own path of happiness even if it was one that didn't involve you as her partner.

Yes, you wanted to be part of her journey, maybe like a distant star yet so shiny it could be perceived even from 150 million kilometers apart. And in that moment, your love for her manifested itself more than in any song you could ever have written, because you decided to withdraw and pretend that your heart was not shattered, just so that hers could beat unbound.

"Hey, listen, I was not ignoring you, it's just that I am having the worst migraines lately, perhaps for the cold..." you excused yourself.

"I know," she said, her tone telling it all. She knew. "I know everything."

Pietro... who else could it be?

Two simple words that you have heard before through different contexts were able to thwart the fragile equilibrium you had acquired, for that was the first thing that started a fury within your being, and it wasn't the fact that Pietro had exposed you.

"Hey, hey, calm down..." Wanda quickly exclaimed, interrupting your train of thought. You blinked a couple of times, and your vision was blurred, indicating that you were starting to cry.

"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!" You exclaimed, as you sobbed. "I just... I don't know how or why it happened, I'm so sorry," you apologized in a desperate plea for understanding.

You felt the need to apologize, because you felt as if being in love with Wanda was a transgression against your friendship, a condemnation to put it to an end.

She captured you in her arms, and naturally, you weakened at her touch, as you did with her and no one else. It was maybe something you could not comprehend, but it always felt as if there wasn't a point where you ended and Wanda started, therefore, the weight on your shoulders distributed itself so it would be a little more bearable. 

"I have this habit of being negative to no end, so I don't let myself down by getting my hopes up so high," Wanda spoke, once she allowed you to let out everything you had stuck, because she knew very well that you needed it. "I wanted to believe that those songs were about me, but.... what if they weren't? So I kept telling myself constantly that they were about someone else. And it hurt. It hurt just imagining it, and I was where you are now."

In that moment, it felt like the world had ceased to turn. You couldn't believe what you had just heard. Wanda, the woman you had secretly loved, was confessing that she had feelings for you too. It was a revelation that seemed too surreal to be true, and your mind struggled to process it.

Before you could find the right words to answer her, she continued, "I never saw my brother as furious with me as he was after that night," the brunette confessed, sighing. "He asked me, 'Why Vision? You're lying to yourself', and he said I didn't deserve that love song you wrote about me, as I dedicated it to a man that I don't love. In response, I kept insisting that all those songs weren't for me, and that the best thing to do was to try to move on, convince myself that Vision was the safer option, even if I knew in my heart that you were the right option..." she paused. "Out of frustration, he told me everything. And I'm sorry, so sorry, because Pietro is right, I don't deserve to..."

You stopped her right there, and crashed yous lips with hers.

There. The wait was over, and in that perfect, heart-stopping moment, everything fell into place.

She reciprocated immediately, and you could feel her firm grip on your waist. You felt a deep pleasure due to the culmination of unspoken feelings, but overall, you knew you finally had found home in Wanda's lips when the kiss felt more natural than anything else.

"It's just one song," you whispered softly against her parted lips. "I can always write more."

[moonlit-escape]

‧₊˚꒰♱꒱༘‧⊹ Zane Mystreet headcanons !!

i love this lil emo freak i NEED to get wine drunk n watch ponies w this guy

6'0 (183cm)

go white boy go

hetero. (comfortable with this label, but honestly his attraction isn't limited to cis women and he has even had crushes on femme men (he just wants to be the token hetero friend))

he mostly dresses casual emo, but sometimes my guy wants to rock a pair of demonias and a fishnet bodysuit with some heavy, pure silver chains and rings, alri

piercings,. piercings piercings piecings. no lips piercings... septum and eyebrow, though. and DEFINITELY gauges in his ears. and ABSOLUTELY ones with cute shapes.

if he didn't cover his mouth all the time, i think he would like wearing dark, cool colored lipsticks

and it'd be smudged all the time bc he keeps fuckin snacking on sweets

of course he paints his nails, and he treats them well bc he hates chipped nail polish (rich boy gets the highest quality, strongest clear nail protection youve never seen before in your life)

honestly all the ro'meave brothers are a bunch of gnc kings like okayyy!! pop off boys w your dresses, heels, skirts, n makeup!!

god can that boy sing

idc he listens to vocaloid and his favourites are vflower and rin kagamine

also listens to emo songs (ofc) and cartoon songs

prefers rock band over guitar hero

one time he smacked vylad in the back of the head with a rock band drumstick and he felt so bad he ran off and cried

boy is the most fuck-ugly crier

secretly steals stuff from people he cares about as keepsakes (like, little things: garroth's old gameboy, vylad's old sketchbook, aph's other half of a pair of lost earrings, nana's ribbons and pastry wrappers)

actually has pretty high metabolism, and one time he gloated abt it to aph and accidentally made a joke in poor taste, and she kicked his ass. so, he just lets her call him a lil fat boy as his eternal penance for being an asshole

okay this isn't a headcanon but sort of is but, why were him and dante like Tightrope-walking that fucking incel line as teenagers. like they were one wrong step from falling into an incel category. thank god their brothers would NOT have had that from their baby brothers anyway bc Wtf

anyway

honestly, he doesn't feel as cold toward vylad as he used to as a teen, and kind of wishes he had the strength to show that and reach out and ease the tension between them. but, he's afraid of making it worse by being awkward, so he wants to wait and hope that vylad makes the first move, if he ever does. (and if not, he'll probably ask garroth to do it for them)

has rejection sensitive dysphoria, made even worse by a rejection complex from: garte's blatant favouritism, bullying and rejection in school, and isolation as an adult. it's part of why he became so attached and possessive of aph. but, he's safer now

he was a harry potter kid. garroth was the percy jackson one, and vylad was warrior cats.

he always thought he was a slytherin but i think he's more of a hufflepuff than he realizes (nana on the other hand.)

he has a lot of sanrio merchandise. more than he will ever admit. his pony merchandise does outweigh it, though, of course

yes, his main comfort character and obsession lies with pinkie pie cake. but, the rainbow dash backpack Objectively fucks

you can get him to eat anything, so long as it's candied or chocolate covered. this means if you hand him one of those candied roaches, he won't think twice about gnashing down on one of those suckers

has a plushie collection of really, really soft and sweet-looking animals. and all of them have punk-like accessories (safety pin piercings, spikes, black ribbons, black laces, etc)

the only plush that doesn't have anything on it is an old brown teddy bear with garroth's faded name on the tag

likes to make snapcube sonic fandub references and will just drop random shadow, the devil, and memphis tennessee quotes

[jtl07]

Oh wow, the ideas kept spinning! So much fun! Now I got a new idea 😅 What if Bea’s band need a new drummer, and Ava shows up (late of course) to the audition. The other band-mates, especially Mary, is ready to just say thank you, next. She is late, she is too bubly for their style and she wears a pink shirt with frogs on?!? Nope, next! But Beatrice can see (and feel) that there’s something there. Something they need! She fights for her. To give her a chance! Something Ava has never experienced before 😭

lolol anon you've started a whole thing what have you doneeeeee

first off, pink shirt with frogs is fantastic love it to bits and of course Mary's like, "no, hell no, fuck no," but they've been holding auditions all week and Beatrice hasn't been impressed with any of the drummers they've seen so far and she's hella stressed because they have an important gig coming up and the fact that this girl is smiling at Beatrice so hopefully is absolutely not a factor in why Beatrice quietly tells Mary to let her play. "it's only fair," is what she says and Mary grumbles but allows it.

and maybe Beatrice notices that she doesn't have any sheet music so she offers Ava a copy but Ava's like, "nope, no need, I've got it all memorized" - which makes both Beatrice and Mary pause because no. their stuff is complicated, proudly so, and for this kid to waltz in here late and wearing a toddler t-shirt - Beatrice lays a hand on Mary's forearm to quiet her muttering.

Ava takes her time adjusting her seat - "geez last guy must have been a giant" she jokes, while Mary grumbles "isn't everyone compared to you?" and Beatrice lets out a quiet sigh - but finally she settles in. "which one should I start with?" Ava asks and Mary scoffs at the assumption that they're gonna listen to her play more than a few measures, much less a whole song.

but Beatrice answers, "in this life." it makes Mary grin because it's one of their more technical songs, one that most of the auditioners have avoided -and those who'd attempted it had been stopped after only a few bars- and to Beatrice's surprise, it makes Ava grin as well.

"nice," Ava says, wiggling in her seat. "that one's my favorite," as if she knows their music - she knows their music? Beatrice wonders as Ava takes up her drumsticks.

and then Ava starts to play.

to call it playing is inaccurate - or rather, an incomplete description of what Ava does. it's playing in the sense that it's playful - there's a joy that Ava exudes, even here, now, with this most complicated of songs; but there's also something raw, something fierce in the way she throws her whole self into the music - like her life depends on it, like death is at her heels, taunting, haunting, and this is Ava fighting back - do not go gentle into that good light, Beatrice thinks, prays; something inside her rises and rages along with Ava, driving the drumbeat of her heart.

Ava finishes the song, looks over at them breathlessly, a wide grin on her face. it wasn't perfect. even in the haze that had consumed Beatrice, she had been aware of that - the momentary stutters, a flourish where one wasn't written - but it was the most enthralling performance Beatrice had seen that day, had seen in her life, if she was being honest.

"well, Ava, thank you for -" "you're in."

both Ava and Mary gape at Beatrice. Mary's eyes narrow, "Beatrice -"

"she's the best shot we have," Beatrice argues, voice low but still fierce, still riding off of the high that was Ava's performance.

Mary shakes her head. "there's still a couple people we can call, she made too many mistakes, Bea."

"let me practice with her. give me two days." the words are out of Beatrice's mouth before she can fully register what she's saying, but she continues anyway. "two days, and if she's not up to par, we'll do it your way. please, Mary."

Mary looks hard at Beatrice, glances at Ava, who's sitting nervously behind the kit, then back at Beatrice. sighs. "two days," she finally acquiesces, grumbling already about how she's going to regret everything. but Beatrice has already tuned Mary out and tuned herself to Ava's frequency.

two days. Beatrice smiles up at Ava; knows she'll get it in one.

[felix-lupin]

soulton

(Basic ID in alt text, more in-depth ID under the cut)

[ID: Five drawings of Soul CCCC as Spamton Deltarune.

Design Description: Soul has a shadow covering half of its body and the lower half of its face, but not going over its clothes. It has a wide, cartoonish smile with sharp red teeth and lines coming down to its jaw that resemble a puppet's mouth. It has three bright red horns resembling trident tines or demon horns coming out of its hair, which is a cherry red color and partially put up in a bun. It is wearing pink and orange tinted glasses that hide its eyes and resemble Spamton's glasses. It has Whole's jacket and drumsticks necklace, as well as a checkered belt that has orange, red, purple, and blue on it, and slightly heeled, dark red boots. It has a scar on its neck and a dull orange noose tied to said belt.

(From left to right, bottom to top)

Drawing 1: A full body drawing. Soul stands with a wide stance and has one hand on its hip, while the other is gesturing.

Drawing 2: A larger drawing of the glasses, showing a few more small cracks

Drawing 3: Soul drawn from the mid-torso up, bracing a trident made of cardboard in front of itself. It is still smiling, but looks extremely nervous.

Drawing 4: A smaller drawing of Soul prostrating itself on the ground, hands clasped together as if praying. It has red wings folded tightly against it back that it does not have in the other drawings, and there are many bright orange strings tied to their body and going up, like puppet strings.

Drawing 5: A drawing of Soul half-popping up out of a dumpster with its hands braced on the edge. Its head is tilted slightly and it is smiling widely, almost manic. End ID.]

[fbfh]

i just want to be tall 😪

this was super random but i had to share this with someone because i just had a crisis of not being able to find a step stool so i had to climb the fucking counter top just to get a tea bag

NO BC SAME. short bitches club unite. I have to wear platforms at work or I can't fucking reach anything skjfsljks-

the good news is that Rodrick fucking loves your height. he loves being your tall lanky grungy emo boyfriend and he loves the way you have to stretch up on your tiptoes to kiss him. he loves how you look in heels and platforms and he loves how you look in flats. he loves that he can rest his head on top of your head and how easy it is to give you forehead kisses. he'll absolutley use this to his advantage and pick you up and set you down on any counter or elevated surface just to watch how flustered you get, claiming it's "so I can kiss you easier :)" but he has that stupid smirk on his face that means you know he just likes seeing you all nervous. you are and forever will be his passenger princess, and he keeps the seat scooched all the way up for you. whenever ben or chris or ward try to move it he's like nope. that stays up front for my shorty. he'll probably call you his shorty (only if you're into that and think it's cute. if you're sensitive about height jokes he'll make sure no one makes any or they get a drumstick thrown at them from across the room.) and above all else he loves how easy it is to cuddle you, how perfecly you fit into him when he spoons you. he could sleep like that for days and ngl he's probably tried to. when greg's school does hello dolly (and greg plays minnie fay, so of course rodrick's not going to miss any of the performances) and as soon as ermengarde and ambrose show up roddy leans over and whispers "that's us". it's so fucking cute.