#I just love Led Zeppelin so much and need to scream about the music

[summerofsmiles]

Led Zeppelin Musical Moments That Altered My Brain Chemistry

I saw this trend on tiktok and I wanted to make this list so here we are . . . Please add your own brain altering zeppelin moments

The moment of silence where you almost catch your breath before the guitar solo in ‘Good Times Bad Times’

The moment in dazed and confused when the guitars join and double the riff

The ‘going to San Francisco’ section of the TSRTS Dazed and Confused and the beginning of the bow section, specifically this figure at 9:35 on the live album track. I don’t know how to describe it besides (wheeEEEEEohwheEEEEE . . . weeEeEeE)

The lead up to ‘my gun’ part of ‘How Many More Times’ live on Danmarks Radio

The first lick of the ‘what is and what should never be’ guitar solo

The first Eb in the main solo of SIBLY over the Fm7 chord. It’s literally just the b7 on the 4 minor chord, which is so typical of blues, but Jimmy’s approach to it is so poignant and full of raw emotion and something that can’t be put into words

Not fully zeppelin, but SIBLY was the first song I ever played for a big audition and my teacher had been trying to get me to access my emotions more when I performed this and I was really awful at doing that; however, the performance, I finally managed to tap into myself more and after I finished, I was so relieved it had gone well and so overwhelmed by all the emotion I had brought up that I literally stood outside the adjudication room and sobbed. I consider this my life’s main character moment😖

There’s no specific moment in Stairway because to my, that song is about the journey form the way it starts to the way it ends, but something about it definitely altered my brain. The first time I heard Stairway to Heaven, I had to sit there for a few seconds after the song finished and process that entire musical journey I had just been on

The variation on the guitar part in the verse (ascending 8th note thing) Jimmy does during the last verse of stairway before the guitar solo in The Song Remains The Same (and most live versions)

Everything about the words ‘Standing on a hill in my mountain of dreams, telling myself it’s not as hard as it seems’

The first beat of “The Song Remains The Same” and the energy of the entire intro section

The first rolled chord of the rain song transports me to another universe, but the moment in this song that actually permanently altered my entire being is the ‘conversation’ between the cello and the bass, where the cello has that little ascending line and the bass responds with a descending line

The bass downbeats during the introductory keyboard solo during no quarter and that Amaj add9 chord with the drums kicking in during “No Quarter”

In ‘No Quarter’ on TSRTS, When Robert ends the phrase “they chose they path where no one goes” by sliding up from the 5 to the major 6 and it goes form the 1 minor chord to such a bright 4 major chord under Robert’s major 6 and its literally perfect (I rewind and watch this moment like 5 times every TSRTS rewatch)

The ornamentations in the vocals and the grandiose in the instrumentals when everyone transitions out of the bridge and back to the riff in Kashmir

The moment the bass enters the main riff in ‘Ten Years Gone’ and the INSTANT warmth

Again, I can’t just pick one part from Achilles—it’s a symphony and I can’t turn it into a moment, but if I had to, the way Robert ends the last ‘I know the way’ makes me MELT

They key change in ‘All My Love’ and the ‘sometimes/I get a little lonely’ section make me want to sob

[quickandsilvers]

I have been thinking,,, non stop about that Peter Maximoff music ask,,, and like

Another song that popped into my head that apocalypse era Peter would use in such a scenario? Rod Stewart, "Do Ya Think I’m Sexy?"

Like,,, I'm sorry, are we gonna pretend that it's NOT a song he'd fuck to?

ALSO Dark Phoenix Peter! Another song that I think fits his vibe! Alice Cooper, "Poison". Like, it's just... it's got the edge, the sexy bass, the desperation, the... everything.

Hhhh,,,, I need this speedy silver himbo so much,,,, 😔😔😔

(Also the "bunny humping" description made me laugh, ngl...)

ROD STWART?! 100 PERCENT AGREED, ANON! ITS NOT AN OPINION ANYMORE, IT’S DOWNRIGHT THE TRUTH!!!

Alice Cooper is definitely a go-to for bedroom times with quickie, esp ‘You and Me’🧎‍♀️💕💖

Alright, here’s some songs i think would be playing whilst Peter x reader are getting it on:

-Hotel California- Eagles (maybe this is just a fantasy for me but… let’s dwell on it, ‘kay?)

-Kiss from a Rose- Seal (can you imagine singing along to the chorus whilst being drilled against a wall? HOH MAMA)

-Layla- Derek & The Dominos (a given. Someone suggested this before and it’s the nothing but the truth)

-Money For Nothing- Dire Straits (need I give an explanation? maybe a little too groovy for seggsy times with our speedster though…)

-Whole Lotta Love- Led Zeppelin (had to fan myself from the mere thought of this one,, goddamn)

-Stargazer- Rainbow (He’s totes gonna try and fuck you to the beat. And with the tempo of this song? Hoh’ boy, get ready to explain to Charles why you need him to lend you his spare wheelchair for a week)

-Lovin’, Touchin’, Squeezin’ - Journey (i think the name says enough)

-White Wedding - Pt. 1- Billy Idol (This SCREAMS dark phoenix peter)

-Hungry Like the Wolf- Duran Duran (honestly? I might as well add the entire Duran Duran discography to this mixtape. He probably plays this especially when eating you out and makes a lame joke about the song title before devouring you)

-Wham Bam Shang-A-Lang- Silver (you probably both belt this to eachother, maybe even pausing your fooling around just to have a little groove💕💕oh boy does this make my heart flutter)

-(I Just) Died In Your Arms- Cutting Crew (Peter added this thinking he was the romantic of the century. Like “babe, whaddaya mean it’s corny?”)

-Emotion Detector- Rush (thank you Geddy Lee for creating the song of the millennium🧎‍♀️)

-I Want to Know What Love Is- Foreigner (a classic. a staple for love songs in the 80s, dare i miss it out?? Also again, a very dark phoenix peter song)

-Sugar Walls- Sheena Easton (Peter only really added this to get a laugh out of you. He’s insistent on the fact that you taste sweeter than a twinkie..i wonder what walls he’s referring to, hm?)

-Slide It In- Whitesnake (c’mon now, what did you really expect,,, from a goof with the humour of a twelve year-old boy no less?)

-Flesh For Fantasy- Billy Idol (thank you our lord and saviour Billy Idol for the contributions to this mixtape, you never fail us)

Honourable mention:

-Carless Whisper- George Michael (Just like he did with The Cutting Crew, Peter added this under the impression he was the epitome of romantic. The deadpan/unimpressed look you gave him said otherwise. That was the first and last time Peter took seductive song suggestions from Deadpool.. why did he even ask??)

[bellamybellamyblake]

OBX Rock Band AU (headcanon)

Characters:

jj maybank, john b routledge, pope hayward, kiara carrera, sarah cameron

Word Count:

~700

A/N:

i have no idea if this has been done before but the idea came to me the other night in the shower lol. i’m in a band so you can guess what i loosely based this on

JJ - Drums

is my opinion biased on this one? probably

my favorite band member and character

the one with the most problems

drinks a little too much,  stoner

personal life in shambles most of the time

once he found the drums as an outlet he dove into it, eventually becoming an intensely devoted musician 

that drum set has seen some things

jj lets his anger out on that poor, innocent drum set

all the different pieces have had to be replaced so many times because he beats the living shit out of them

the one that got john b into rock music and the rest was history

he's not one of the chill drummers who just shows up and does their thing, this man is a show-off

so many tricks

long solos whenever the chance arises for one

flirts with the entire band

music genres: rock, grunge, alt, metal

bands/artists: Sex Pistols, Led Zeppelin, AC/DC, Nirvana, Guns N’ Roses, Def Leppard

John B - Lead Vocals/Rhythm Guitar

a no-brainer. this is practically canon

no i will not be hearing opposing opinions at this time

he's the frontman

the one most people's eyes are drawn to right away

controls the vibe in the room

him and jj put on a show

stoner

is naturally a gifted singer, but had a vocal coach for a little while to get some pointers

rhythm guitar because most rock songs need at least two guitars and he's played guitar since he was a kid just for fun

music genres: country, rock, alt, pop when jj isn't around

bands/artists: The Rolling Stones, Paramore, Fall Out Boy, Aerosmith, Taylor Swift, Johnny Cash 

Pope - Lead Guitar/Band Manager

he's just there to vibe but also an incredibly skilled guitarist 

the one that tries extremely hard to keep everyone on track, but can't because no one listens to him

also the one that found kiara and Sarah

he's classically trained, but he only did classical as a kid because that's what he thought the smart kids were supposed to do

he plays like Slash: relatively controlled body language, but his fingers fly back and forth on the frets 

music nerd

everyone can tell he loves what he's doing

manager because who else would manage these fools?

music genres: rock, alt, indie rock

bands/artists: Falling in Reverse, Foo Fighters, Arctic Monkeys, Green Day, Hozier, The Killers, The 1975

Kiara - Bass

i will not be accepting arguments on this one

she 100% grew up on cello, but wanted to rebel against her parents as a teen and switched to rock but realized she fucked with it

this girl is hot as all hell and knows it, but has nothing to prove

she's one of the more responsible members of the group but also super laid-back

stoner

effortlessly keeps everyone in check 

she just wants to vibe and play some songs

flirts with the entire band

weird, hippie, earthy screams bass player

music genres: indie rock, r&b, pop punk, anything from the '60s and '70s

bands/artists: Janis Joplin, The Strokes, Young The Giant, Hozier, Paramore, Joan Jett, Whitney Houston

Sarah - Backup Vocals

she was definitely an attention seeker in her young years and would've hated backup, but now she's perfectly content chilling in the background with some killer harmonies 

she has a few songs she leads in the set when john b needs a rest

she absolutely KILLS them

but she loves playing with the melody and adding a harmony on something that you wouldn't expect

this girl has perfect pitch so harmonizing takes about 3% effort from her

if a song is too low for her or too high for john b, she transposes everything (perfect pitch and all)

she will. not. touch. an electric guitar with a 10-foot pole. 

don't ask, i have no explanation for that one

on the occasion a song needs keys, she's the go-to

music genres: she's a retired theatre kid so she listens to just about everything under the sun except country

bands/artists: Taylor Swift, The Beatles, Queen, Marvin Gaye, Stevie Knicks, Amy Winehouse

[mightyaphrodytee]

There were a few times in my life when music changed for me—what I responded to changed slowly over time, but yeah, there were definite infusions of NEW that veered off on paths maybe not so well-trodden, but that nonetheless stood out as touchstones in my ~~~dramatic half-whisper~~~ journey through 🎶MUSIC 🎼

1977: Heard the best of what’s now considered “classic rock” as it existed at the time, when it was just called “Rock” or “Heavy Metal” or “Prog.” Bands like Rush, Boston, Yes, Queen, Led Zeppelin, Black Sabbath, Pink Floyd, that didn’t get a lot of airplay on the Top 40 stations I’d exclusively listened to. It was thrilling. I caught up on ten years of ignorance in like, 9 months. But I kinda missed out on punk because of that immersion, thanks to my new besties.

1982: Heard my first indie/alternative (“new wave” to some) music and fell hard. The Cure, The English Beat, Joy Division, Kim Wilde, Elvis Costello, U2, Talking Heads, etc. when we moved to Colorado. The availability of some truly esoteric indie music via the Boulder station KBCO was legendary. We had three or four stations in addition to that one! Spoiled! The eighties, man. R.E.M.!!! The music in the clubs was what was on the radio was what was on MTV—you couldn’t escape it, so this huge subset of the rock-listening population were all listening to the big hits at the same time. Madonna, Dire Straits, The Eurythmics, Prince, Duran Duran, Pretenders, Bon Jovi. EVERYBODY knew the hits of the eighties.

1991: Heard “Smells Like Teen Spirit” on the car radio driving through Austin, and both my companion and I were immediately silenced by that intro, and by the end, we were like “What just happened?” just in total delight/light shock…did he really just scream about a mulatto? Who talks like that in 1991, sir? But we just immediately knew this was gonna be huge, and it was, and then came grunge and grunge-lite for the rest of the decade. Soundgarden, STP, Bush, Incubus, Alice In Chains, Pearl Jam, Nirvana (for such a goddamned short time, it’s insane to look back and realize we had so few years with him!)

For some people, life is unbearable without having their consciousness altered in some way. Drugs being one of those ways.

2003: Heard “Caring Is Creepy” by The Shins on a 4-hour “New Alternative” loop XM Radio had handed out as a free trial. Those songs on that loop woke me up to the possibility of new sounds that hit that same place in me as the best of the 80’s and 90’s. I remember Doves “Pounding”, which was used in an episode of The Consultant on Amazon Prime just this week (I shrieked!), “Silver Spoon” by Bis, “Shapes” by The Long Winters, The Postal Service, Death Cab For Cutie…wish I could remember them all. Bruce Springsteen’s Magic album had a song that was my most played for a few years in the aughts—“Radio Nowhere”, which I first heard on that XM trial loop and loved so much I bought the whole album. On iTunes. Still have it. Saw Garden State, heard “Caring Is Creepy” on the soundtrack (again—i shrieked!), and “New Slang,” and fell for them even harder.

Now I listen to what I used to hate (classic rock), but my fairly narrow preference window means I don’t SAY I listen to classic rock, because except for YouTube, I only listen to Radiohead, some Tool, some Metallica most days.

My life is now just mainly Radiohead with a few dollops of all the songs I’ve loved before, from every decade that rock and roll has been rock and roll with ALL its subgenres, heavy on Tool and Metallica as of late.

I can’t even tell what popular music today even is. It all sounds like video game background to me.

Will you still need me

Will you still feed me

When I’m 64?

[slavghoul]

Something from the archives.. Tobias talking about what he loves talking about the most - the music he listens to. I lost the original source but I think it was an issue of Classic Rock from around 2018?

--

Your first record LOVEGUN by Kiss. Around the same time I also got SHOUT AT THE DEVIL by Mötley Crüe and STAY HUNGRY by Twisted Sister. As a kid I bought a lot of albums, a lot of sixties and Kiss records. The Rolling Stones, The Beatles, Jimi Hendrix, The Doors. Stuff like that.

The last record you bought I buy a lot of old albums. And also a lot of records that I already have. And this tour was so busy that I actually bought very few because I didn't have time at all and normally I buy something almost every day. It can be anything - from a new album to another copy of LED ZEPPELIN II. One of the last records I bought was an original pressing of the debut of a band called Affinity.

A record that changed your life A lot of them! I've been listening to rock records since I can remember. A lot of them had a big effect on me. SEVEN CHURCHES by Possessed had a big impact on how I feel about death metal. Because the temperament of that album is so youthful - and as a teenager I could relate to that.

A record you have listened to the most It circulates with me, I rotate through them. There are about 50 albums that come into mind. I'm bad at answering questions like that, because I don't listen to just one thing. One moment I think I need to listen to FROST by Enslaved, which brings me to IN THE NIGHTSIDE ECLIPSE by Emperor. So I spend a whole afternoon listening to Norwegian Black Metal. And then suddenly I think: Oh, Foreigner! Which brings me to Jefferson Starship and Toto. Next up is Discharge and GBH. But what I always like to listen to are, for example, STRANGE DAYS by The Doors, A SAUCERFUL OF SECRETS by Pink Floyd or STRANGER THAN FICTION by Bad Religion.

Favourite album cover art Again: many. I don't think I have one in particular, but there are a few designs that hit the nail on the head. Even though I like big graphic artwork like Iron Maiden's or Pink Floyd's, I think some of the coolest ones are very simple; you could easily make a poster or t-shirt of them. Venom's BLACK METAL, for example. Simply because it's so iconic. Or MORBID TALES by Celtic Frost, which people can easily paint on their jackets.

A record you would recommend to your best friend There are definitely a few records that I wish my wife would like as much as I do. I listen to a lot of music that other people might not find very interesting: prog. Twenty minutes of instrumental drone. It's almost a joke in our house: she always comes home just as someone is screaming or the drum solo is playing. IN THE COURT OF THE CRIMSON KING has these beautiful, melancholy ballads, but there are also a few sections bordering on noise. SHEIK YERBOUTI by Frank Zappa is the same. There are a lot of real songs on it, but there's a side on the record that's basically just noise. When my wife comes home, it's always at that exact moment and she’s like "Why do you only ever listen to noise?"

A record you would offer to your worst enemy An album I like but can't listen to that often - and I know if people don't see its humorous side it's hard to listen to - is PHILOSOPHY OF THE WORLD by The Shaggs. I can imagine that many people find it excruciating. Sadistik Execution or Impaled Nazarene is pretty unpleasant too if you're not a fan of extreme music.

An album you listen to in the car I have a bunch of CDs in my car and I usually go with samplers or best-of compilations. I mostly get them at the gas station when I stop to fill up the car. I have best-of compilations from Ozzy Osbourne, Fleetwood Mac, Judas Priest, Johnny Cash, Dio and some Swedish stuff you might not know. I like to listen to feel-good music that I can dream to and lose myself in when I drive.

A record on which you would have liked to play yourself I don't know. That would suggest to me that I would want to live someone else's life or change something. There was a big rock wave in Sweden and Norway in the early noughties - and sometimes it upsets me when a guitar solo stays too bluesy. I want the solos to be bigger, more meaty, to have a bigger ego. Show that you have balls!

Favourite albums from your parents' record collection I inherited a lot of records from my mom. She reacquainted herself with numerous albums when I was a child too, because she lost a lot of records in a divorce in the early seventies. So in the mid-eighties - because I was so interested in it - we bought many of them again. Before that we only had a handful of Beatles albums. We'd go to record stores and she would see a record she remembered and go "Oh, this one is good!". She liked LET IT BLEED by the Rolling Stones and played it for me a lot.

[jonesyjonesyjonesy]

Hi! I'm currently writing a kinda weird fanfic that has a lot of Led Zeppelin influence. I'm a Jimmy fan but I really want to come at the story with some personality, perspective, and quirks of everyone. Of course, "I know" more about Jimjam. I was hoping you could give me some insight or advice about how to get more of Jonesy into my story. I've kinda already made a blunder in my rush of the intro because I really love writing and it's been a while, lol. Any help is appreciated, and thank you 😊

Oh 🥰 I could wax poetic on Mr. Jones all day! But I don't want to inundate you with too much that might not be helpful to you and your purposes.

He can be elusive when writing because he is just that: elusive.

If Zeppelin is light and shade, you can also see it as positive and negative space. And Jonesy fills in those cracks both musically and with his personality. He is the negative space and the trick with negative space is that it works by not being obvious. That's sort of the bass function in a 4-piece rock band and why it's so easily looked over by lots of casual music listeners (*ahem* plebians*).

I think that's a good way to start contextualizing him, especially if you're looking to contour your story with his presence. I doubt you have made a blunder, truly. After all, we are just working off of these "characters" who happen to be living, breathing individuals.

Here are just a few elements that I find fun when playing with Jonesy while writing:

Humor - He's both the master of dry humor and dad jokes. He gives me the impression that if he's the only one who laughs at the joke, it's still a good joke (i.e. telling people "star" backwards is "rats"...like okay king...). He doesn't say more than he needs to.

Perspective - Inherently, from his instrument and again, this idea of negative space, he is a watcher and a listener. He is perceptive and he probably sees and knows a lot more than he lets on. Unless he chooses to be oblivious to something. He is an only child and, as an only child myself, you become a watcher and pick up on a lot about how people act very quickly.

Ego - He's a cocky bastard. He knows he's talented and he isn't afraid to let anyone know he's talented, but he isn't bragadocious about it. It's very matter of fact. He's sees it as a tenant of who he is, an indisputable truth and consequently, can come off as acting superior or snobbish. He knows his job in the band, but he's still going to wear the glitter pants. The man isn't afraid to stand out, but he's not going to beg for it.

Loyalty - Romantically and professionally, he's a very loyal person. Now look, the man isn't a saint, I'm not here to purport such things, but there's something to be said that he's been married to his wife since the 60s. He's been quoted calling her his best friend on several occasions. Whatever they got, it worked. And there are multiple accounts of him getting ACTIVELY angry to the point of threatening violence when Zeppelin or its member's integrity and talent were questioned (if he would actually follow through, I don't believe he's got that chutzpah). If you look at his relationship with Bonzo, he'll always say he was the greatest drummer he ever worked with (Dave Grohl being the second greatest). His exclusion from the 90s projects, regardless of motivation for it, was deeply impactful for him. Zeppelin the monolith is more important to him than being a member of Zeppelin. In more modern contexts, he returns to his well of collaborators often.

DEAR GOD. THIS WASN'T CONCISE OR ANYTHING AT ALL. On a more fun fact note -

Enjoys reading and being in nature

is not terribly interested in flaunting wealth

the daddliest dad (daughter Jacinda helped him with lyrics for Scream For Help)

has been quoted saying "I like strong women" so i mean i'm pretty much deceased

his middle name is NOT Richard even though it says so on Wikipedia. There is an interview where he says he has no middle name.

is pretty private about his personal life

IS A PESCETARIAN AND HAS BEEN SINCE THE 70s

has extremely eclectic music taste but that's a given

...too much? Too little? Let me know if you need more my dear. I'm tagging @kyunisixx in case she'd like to add anything to this extensive list of traits (but perhaps that's overkill)

me talking and then realizing i've said way too much

happy writing dearest! may all your john paul jones dreams come true!

[the-iceni-bitch]

Sexytime?

Pairing: Jake Jensen x Fem!Reader

Words: 2097

Summary: You and Jensen are stuck doing surveillance and Jake gets bored. Also, he tries some dirty talk for the first time!

Warnings: Fluff, explicit language, explicit sexual content (unprotected vaginal sex), SMUT, 18+ ONLY!!

A/N: This ended up being kind of precious, but I’m ok with that. I just love this giant nerd so much! Join my taglist here if you want! (Side note, I know that Brother Rapp comes after Sex Machine on the James Brown album but that would’ve been like 15 minutes of dancing I had to write)

“Oh my god, I’m so bored.”

You shot a glare at Jake as you set up the surveillance equipment. He had draped himself over the table in your loft dramatically as you did your work.

“We’ve been here for literally a half an hour. Are you going to whine the whole time?” You loved the guy but weren’t looking forward to spending the next 12 hours with his ass if he was going to be a little bitch the whole time. You bent down to test the camera angles as he sighed heavily.

“I can’t believe you don’t even have a TV. What are we going to do this whole time?”

“I dunno, maybe our jobs?” You were barely paying attention as you made adjustments to the scopes.

“Nah.” He jumped off the table and stretched. “You’ve gotta have something to do here. I’m gonna look around.”

You just shook your head at him as he started wandering around aimlessly, still fiddling with the equipment to make sure you were covering all the exits.

“Ooh, what’s up here?” He started to climb the ladder to the second level. This was his first time at your place, and he was curious. “Shit.”

You grinned to yourself as you settled back in your chair, eyes on the monitor. He must’ve found the weapons cache.

“Oho, is this a rocket launcher?!”

You gave a laugh as you glanced up at him. “Sure is, baby. Maybe put it down though, you’re pointing it at your face.”

“Oh, fuck. Whoops.” He placed the launcher down gingerly as he scoped the rest of the landing. “That’s it? A refrigerator, a bed, and a shit-ton of explosives?” He started to work his way back down the ladder. “Kinda boring. Oh, what’s this?”

“Fuck.” You muttered to yourself as you considered what his new discovery might be.

“Look at this record collection!” He sounded stupid giddy. “Marvin Gay, Roxy Music, so much Led Zeppelin. Y/N, are you secretly cool?”

“I don’t think it’s a secret.” You teased back at him, smiling in spite of yourself.

“Oh, yesss!” You heard him start up the record player and all of a sudden James Brown was yelling over the speakers as the Sex Machine album started.

“Oh my god.” You rolled your eyes at him. “Turn that down, do you want the mark to know we’re up here?”

“C’mon, you know you wanna dance with me.” He had one of those ridiculous grins on his face as he slid across the floor into your field of view, rolling his hips and shoulders to the music.

“We’re supposed to be surveilling, Jake.”

“You just spent 45 minutes setting up all that equipment, you’re telling me the cameras can’t take over for just a bit?”

You bit your lip as you watched him dancing around your kitchen like a goofball. God he was such a perfect idiot. “Fine, but you tell anyone about this and I’ll stab you.”

“Ooh, don’t tease me, sweetheart.”

You rose out of your chair to join him, gliding across the floor easily, leading with your hips as your feet slid along to the rhythm. Your upper body rolled smoothly to the music, following the motion set by your hips.

“Fuck, you’re a really good dancer.” Jensen was giving you an appreciative look as you kicked your feet in a signature James Brown style.

“You seem surprised, Jake.” You laughed lightly at him.

“I mean, I kinda am. No offense, but you’ve usually got a stick up your ass.”

“Ouch.” You placed a hand to your chest in a mock wounded gesture. “This is nothing though.”

“Really, you’ve got more moves up your sleeve?”

“Yeah, watch this.”

You winked at him before spinning fast and lowering yourself into a split, then rising up as you brought your legs back together. He broke out into hysterical laughter.

“Ok, fine. You’ve officially shocked me.”

“Ooh, I’m full of surprises honey.” You slid closer to him as the song shifted to ‘Bewildered’, pressing your body into his.

“What happened to doing our jobs?” He teased as you started kissing his neck.

“You got me all worked up now sweetheart.” You murmured against his throat.

“Oh, fuck. I hate to do this but…” He pointed at the monitor.

The mark was getting into a black SUV in the middle of a group of motorcycles, getting ready to head out.

“Shit!” You hissed, scrambling over to the radio to call it in to Aisha and the rest of the team. “they’re on the move!”

“Fuck, did you get a chance to tag their ride?” Aisha asked over the comms.

“Yeah, did that first thing.”

“Ok, keep an eye on us while we tail them.”

“You got it.”

“Sooo….” Jake murmured behind you. “Should we pick this up later, or….?”

You just waved a hand behind you to shush him as you went over everything with Aisha. He gave a heavy sigh and went to make himself a sandwich. Maybe you had some books laying around somewhere.

It was three hours later when you finally signed off the comms. You stood up and stretched out, wondering where your puppy had gotten to.

You found him passed out on the couch, glasses askew and a sandwich crust resting on his chest as he softly snored, your copy of ‘Dune’ laying open next to him on the couch. You shook your head as you returned the book to the shelf and tossed the rest of his sandwich in the trash. You slipped Miles Davis’ ‘Kind of Blue’ album onto the record player and crawled into his lap.

“Fuck.” He jolted awake when you started nibbling at his ear lobe. “What time is it?”

“It’s 8 PM, dumbass.” You whispered into his neck. “You slept through the whole op.”

“What?” He was still out of it. “What about the surveillance?”

“Well,” you murmured, slipping your hands under his Petunias tee and running your palms up his torso. “There was a firefight, and it seems the mark is no longer an issue.”

“Ok.” His brain was almost caught up now. “So, sexytime?”

You lifted his glasses off his nose and gave him a low chuckle as you set them on the coffee table. “Yeah, baby, sexytime.”

He gave you one of his stupid grins as he sat up and wrapped his arms around you, his hands kneading into your hips as he ground his growing erection into your mound. You drew his shirt over his head as you gyrated against him, moaning as your cunt clenched around nothing, a fresh rush of arousal soaking through your panties and leggings.

Jake ran his hands up your back and tugged the shoulders of your cami down over your arms until your tits were exposed. He nuzzled himself between your breasts, brushing his lips against your skin softly as you arched into his mouth.

He moved his mouth to your nipple and elicited a groan as he swirled his tongue around your sensitive bud, bringing up one hand to palm at the opposite breast.

“Fuck, Jake.” You whispered, screwing your eyes shut and bringing up a hand to the back of his head as you drove your hips into him, desperate for friction. “God, I need it.”

“Yeah, sweetheart?” He whispered against your chest. “You need my big fucking cock? You gonna take it like a good girl?”

You couldn’t help it, you laughed. Those words coming out of your sweet puppy were just too much and you broke down into a fit of giggles.

“Aww, c’mon.” He was pouting now. “I just wanted to try something new.”

“I’m sorry, sweetie.” You fell back on the couch, trying to catch your breath “You just caught me off guard. I’ll be a good girl for you.”

You scooted yourself down on the couch until you could dip your hands into his sweats, biting your lip as you drew out his cock, biting your lip as wrapped your hands around him.

“Mmm, I need this cock so bad. My pussy is so fucking wet for you.” You ran your thumb through the precum at his tip at the same time you shoved your hand down your panties, moaning as you drew your fingers through your sopping folds until you found your clit.

“Fuck, baby. Ok.” He tore off your panties and lined himself up. “Uh, you want this cock, you better ask me real nice. Is this ok?”

You grinned and nodded to him. “Please, Jake, fuck me with that massive dick?”

“Shit, don’t need to ask twice.” He muttered as he nudged his tip between your folds, slowly pressing into you. You let out a whine as he sheathed himself in you, digging your fingers into the couch cushions. “Yeah, you like that don’t you? Like feeling my big cock splitting you open. God, you’re so fucking tight. Look at this pussy gripping me so good.”

His hips were driving into you hard, his cock dragging against your g-spot with each thrust. You met each of his thrusts with your own, whining as he pounded into you. You brought your fingers down to your clit, drawing circles around it desperately before Jake wrenched your hand away.

“Nice try, sweetheart, but I’m the only one who gets to make you cum tonight.” He licked his fingers before pressing them to your tiny bundle of nerves, making you scream.

“Fuck, Jake! Don’t stop!” You felt your pleasure gathering in the pit of your stomach as you writhed underneath him. “God, I’m cumming!”

“That’s right baby, cream all over my cock.”

The coil snapped and you wailed as every muscle in your abdomen knotted before releasing in quivering bliss. You felt your spend gushing over your thighs around Jake’s dick as you came down, his hips still plunging into you relentlessly.

“I’m gonna flip you over beautiful. I wanna watch this ass bounce while I make you scream.”

You whined when he pulled out, but then he flipped you over like it was nothing and drove back into you, knocking the breath out of your lungs. He slapped your ass hard before gripping one hip to draw you back into him over and over. He wrapped his other hand in your hair and wrenched your head back, making your eyes roll back into your head as he pounded into you.

“God, you’re fucking perfect. I swear this body was made for me.” He murmured as he picked up the pace even more, and you felt your pussy clench around him at his praise as you felt another orgasm starting to build. “You can cum again, pretty girl. I wanna feel this cunt strangle my cock.”

“Ffuuck.” You groaned as another orgasm ripped through you. You body rolling underneath Jake as aftershocks shook your core and left you breathless.

“Shit, gonna fill you up, baby. You ready to take all my cum, beautiful?”

“Yes, please.” You moaned against the couch cushions, still feeling the aftereffects of your previous orgasm.

He hissed through his teeth as you felt his cock twitch inside you, then his hot spend was coating your velvety walls, eliciting another groan from deep in your chest.

Jake stilled his hips and collapsed on top of you, suffocating you in his body heat as you felt his cock softening. You hummed with pleasure as he buried his face in your hair.

“Was that ok, Y/N?” Your boy was so fucking considerate and sweet, he made your teeth hurt.

“That was more than ok, Jensen.” You mumbled against the couch cushions as he pulled out of you and started to roll you over.

“Yeah, I wasn’t too mean?”

“Jakey, baby, you weren’t mean at all. You’re still my sweet puppy.” You gave him a massive grin as you drew your face up to his and gave him a soft, slow kiss.

He gave you a grin of his own when you pulled away and started to lay back on the couch, cradling his head between your breasts.

“Good.” He muttered against your skin. “Cause I have some other things I was hoping to try.”

“Really baby? What else did you wanna try out?” You ran your fingers lightly over his spine as the two of you lay there, starting to doze off.

“Mmm, what do you think about roleplay?” You could feel his eyelashes fluttering against your skin as he started to fall asleep.

You just gave him a light laugh as you slipped into a daze yourself. “Ooh, that sounds like fun.”

Permanent Tags:

@slothspaghettiwrites​ @starlightcrystalline​ @stargazingfangirl18​ @harrysthiccthighss​ @drabblewithfrannybarnes​ @jack-skellingtons-stuff​

[moonlit-imagines]

Headcanons for Friends to Lovers with Rodrick Heffley

Rodrick Heffley x reader

warnings: mentions of a bad home life

a/n: YALL I FUVKING DID IT AND IM TERRIFIED OF THE REPERCUSSIONS

prompt: y/n and rodrick have been friends for a long time, so long boundaries seem to be blurred

you’ve actually known rodrick since elementary school

it all started when he asked you to join his band

“i can play drums, you can play the tambourine because that’s the only other instrument i have! it’ll be wicked!”

your band lasted a week and only had one gig, it was for rodrick’s parents

who LOVED you by the way

they somehow permitted you to sleepover almost every other day, you practically lived at their house

FOR YEARS you did this

terrorizing lil greg

“what’s he gonna do, pee his diaper?”

“rodrick!!!”

always trick or treating together, exchanging candy when you got back go his house (or occasionally yours)

you guys didnt like hanging at your house, your parents were kind of....a lot to handle

starting middle school together, wreaking havoc on all the teachers

rodrick did it to impress you, according to mr. and mrs. heffley

but he’d give you a stupid little smirk from across the classroom after he got scolded so you believed them

whenever anyone gave you shit at school, rodrick wouldn’t hesitate to step in and show them who’s boss

“rodrick, you’re gonna get detention again!”

“yeah, well, i’m not gonna let them be mean to you”

you went to his house after school most days, sometimes you’d get there first while he was in detention

mrs. heffley had after school snacks

“y/n, why don’t you play some video games with greg while you wait for rodrick to get home?”

playing wii sports with greg, who cried when you won

you also had time to do homework while you waited, rodrick usually copied afterwards

when rodrick came home, he’d drag you to the garage to show you his drum skills

he hit himself in the head with his drumstick

“ooh, that’s gonna leave a mark”

next step was high school, which was a weird step up

but you guys had each other

you still spent most nights at the heffley residence, but you had to sleep on the couch instead of on the floor in the attic (aka rodricks lair)

“you two are growing up, so we think it’s best that you don’t sleep in the same room together, right?”

rodrick emptied one of his drawers for you to put your clothes in

but you still end up stealing his clothes half the time

“i wish i could be mad, but you wear all of my clothes better than me”

subconsciously doing couple-y things without realizing it

like rodrick would pull you closer to him when you two were together, put his arm around you, give you his jacket, etc

“are you guys serious? you’ve got to be dating!” -everyone

“rodrick, when are you and y/n going to get together?” -mr. and mrs. heffley

the answer was always the same: “we’re just friendssssss”

watching his band practice and cheering him on no matter what

you’re his guest vocals ☺️

when he got the van, it was a whole new world for you guys

you could go out wherever whenever

(with parent approval usually)

“wanna go ride around for a little while? hit a gas station and get a bunch of candy?”

“do you even have to ask?”

watching scary movies in his room

“platonic” cuddling in his bed

stuffing your face in the crook of his neck during scary scenes

“come on, y/n! it’s not that bad!”

him having to hold onto you for comfort so you’d keep watching with him

sometimes falling asleep together and his mom or dad coming to check on you later

“alright, time for bed! y/n, you get your usual couch...”

laughing your ass off at rodrick when he messes with greg

manny loves you, sometimes rodrick is jealous of the attention you give to his baby brother instead of him

rodrick scooping you up in his arms when you least expect it, never fails to make you scream

“hey there, hot stuff”

“you’re impossible!”

roller skating together, he held your hand the whole time bc he was worried you’d fall

his friends ENDLESSLY taunt him over your relationship

when he makes plans with others, he always says “let me ask y/n first” which just SENDS his friends oh my god

“dude, that’s your s/o!”

“no, they’re not! shut up!”

hating being apart a lot its so stressful

sometimes you’d have a pretty hard time at home and show up to his house at odd hours, but you were always welcome

you have your own key

“hey, what’s wrong?”

“my parents...they’re just the worst”

rodrick knows its bad when you start crying

he took you up to his room and played some music (quietly as not to wake the house)

you laid on top of him while he rubbed your back and told you that he was there for you

dozing off on him, as per usual

dude, the amount of pictures you have? astronomical

you playing his drums, the two of you going 🤘, an actual nice picture of you guys, him carrying you on his back, kiddos on your first day of school by year, you kissing his cheek “platonically”

comforting him when he was having his own hard times, whether it be an argument with his parents/greg, difficulties with musical inspiration, or anything else

“come here, you need a hug”

“i need several”

“you’ll get ‘em”

talent show! talent show! talent show!

you completely cussed out the rest of his band before they went on bc they had the audacity to replace him

but greg managed to save the day

“greg, my dude, give me a high five, that was awesome”

he wasn’t actually half bad but like, his mom kinda stole the show

more joyrides in the van

absolutely BLASTING the music in there while you and rodrick sat on the floor in the back and ate the taco bell you’d just picked up

“dude, you gotta try my potato griller, it’s a godsend”

“okay, but try this slushie, its so good. i mean, not as good as a 7-eleven slushie, but it’s up there”

finishing your food and laying in the van for another hour bc you just loved each other’s company

but after sitting together alone for so long, you felt like there was something left to do, what was it?

you and rodrick were moving around a bunch and ended up next to each other sitting against the wall of the van

you looked over at each other and hesitated before leaning in to kiss

and you guys kissed for a while

okay, so, you made out on the floor of his van with led zeppelin playing in the background

✨magical✨

it wasn’t awkward or anything, just long overdue

okay it was a little awkward actually

“well, that was” *clears throat* “that was cool or whatever”

“yeah...wanna do it again?”

“oh, for sure”

not like it was a surprise to anyone when you announced you were FINALLY dating

“wait, you guys just started dating? i thought you’d been together for like, at least 5 years” -mr. heffley

“this is great! obviously, we’ll need to set up some boundaries so that everyone is comfortable and safe, but yay for young love!” -mrs. heffley

“gross” -greg

mrs. heffley wrote a column in the newspaper about you titled “my teenage son’s fantastic significant other”

not much changed after you and rodrick got together, just kissing, “i love you’s” and more teasing from friends and school faculty

“we were all rooting for you two, actually!” -the teachers

summer vacation with him

it was always SWEET

going to the pool together, he’d usually lay out on the chairs with you but you were able to drag him into the pool a few times

“come onnnn, it’ll be funnnn”

“you’re lucky you’re cute”

hugs from behind!!! kisses on the top of ur head!!!!

PROM AH HAH HAH

seeing rodrick in a tux was too funny for you, you almost couldn’t stop laughing (especially at the eyeliner he insisted on wearing)

but he just couldn’t stop staring at you

“rodrick!”

“what?! you’re stunning!”

honestly, prom wasn’t all it was cracked up to be

you danced like maniacs for a few songs and ended up ditching early on

but you did end up renting a bunch of movies and getting tonssss of snacks and changing into pajamas as soon as you got to his house

im talking popcorn, candy bars, ice cream, cans of pop, chips, chicken nuggets and so on

and also passing out on each other

“i think i love you a little more, i didn’t know that was possible”

“i have that effect on people”

he makes u breakfast before his mom gets the chance though

“pancakes? for me?”

“i put chocolate chips in them too, you’re gonna love them”

(they were a lil bit burned, still good tho)

you guys really did just spot on get each other

okay but i know you also roast each other sometimes so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

relationship goals, honestly

fresh outta ideas 🤠 goodnight

[ladykissingfish]

Driving with the Akatsuki

Itachi

Driving with this guy is ... nerve-wracking, to say the very least. It’s not as though he’s a reckless automobile operator; he observes all the laws of traffic, the radio is at a reasonable volume ((he’s the type to listen to podcasts rather than music)), he follows the speed limits, he actually slows down at a yellow light — but it’s the near-misses that are daunting. The just barely stopping in time before hitting the old lady crossing the street. The running up on the curb while parking. And then there was that incident with the tree — Itachi legally has to wear glasses when driving, but his passengers often wonder whether the glasses actually HELP him. Even with them on, he squints A LOT. And only someone with nerves of absolute steel, like Kisame or Kakuzu, will be in a car with him at night. However he is with driving, one thing he’s not blind in, is his car’s cleanliness. Will make passengers wipe feet before getting in, and after everyone is gone he’ll carefully scour the seats to remove even the faintest trace of lint or gum wrappers or any disturbance at all. Can be a bit of a “mom” driver; a holdover from his teenage years of constantly having to chauffeur around his younger brother and his brother’s rambunctious friends.

Kakuzu

Anyone getting into a vehicle with Kakuzu is in for a surprise. 91 years old? Surely he drives slow and steady, like a typical little old man, right? WRONG. Kakuzu is a goddamn speed-demon. He barrels down streets, he flies through intersections. Not many know this about him, but he was very much into drag-racing as a (much) young(er) man, and his current proclivity for quickness is a holdover from those days. Luck always seems to be on his side, as he’s gotten caught/received speeding tickets far less than he deserves. To make matters scarier, Kakuzu’s radio system has been broken for two years (and of course he’s too cheap to get it fixed), and the back left window doesn’t roll up to the top; so the only sound his passengers will hear is the wind rushing past the glass and Kakuzu’s deep, sinister chuckles as he sees other drivers (and pedestrians) scramble to get out of his way. Also, unless you’re a CLOSE-close friend, don’t expect a ride from him unless you have gas money.

Deidara

In all honesty, the blonde prefers to be the passenger rather than the driver, even in his own car. He gets his best inspirations for future art pieces when he’s traveling around, and it’s hard to pick up a sketch book when you need to be paying attention to the road. When he does have to be behind the wheel himself, he’s a fairly average driver. His passengers are always at risk of a case of auditory whiplash, as Deidara’s (loudly played) music tastes switch from one extreme to the other; and the guy isn’t exactly shy about singing along to his favorites. He’s also one of those eat-on-the-go guys, and his backseat will almost always be buried under a myriad of candy wrappers, empty plastic soda bottles and discarded burger wrappers. In the summer he prefers the wild and free feeling of having all the windows down, rather than turning the AC on, and he’ll have to remember to firmly tie up his long hair and keep it from blowing in his eyes or else everyone in the car will be taking an unscheduled trip into the nearest tree.

Zetsu

His car always has that calm, natural, “special plant” scent to it. The kind of smell that causes a panic when Zetsu sees a police officer anywhere in the area. A very relaxed driver; seat almost all the way back, one hand barely on the steering wheel. Obeys the speed limit but can put the pedal to the metal when in a hurry. Likes to listen to mostly reggae or jazz, and taps his fingers on he dashboard along to the beat. Water-bottle hoarder; has at least 1000 plastic water bottles, in varying staging of fullness, all over the front and back seats. The type to keep driving around the block until the song ends. Also the type to have really deep conversations with his passengers, and drive them out to really far away and scenic locations.

Hidan

If you have somewhere important to go, and need a ride, it’s best not to ask Hidan. He is the sort who always insists he knows a shortcut or a quicker route to every destination ... and ends up hopelessly lost. Can’t read a map to save his life and for some reason won’t trust a car’s gps system to guide him ((has some pretty crazy conspiracy theories about the voice behind the system)). Easily distracted by any and everything (both inside and outside of car), which makes being his passenger a bit daunting. Like Kakuzu, is a very fast driver, but infinitely more cautious as he has a LOT of tickets wracked up and isn’t looking to add more.

Really loves Led Zeppelin and Johnny Cash; has a visor full of those CD’s and will play those rather than listen to the radio. Also has a butt-load of swear word laden and inappropriate humor bumper stickers.

Pein

Who needs a car when motorcycles exist? This guy has a classic hog that he keeps in mint condition, that he rides around wherever he goes. Every year he’ll try and convince his close friends to ditch their boring cars for something more sublime, only to be met sure emphatic No’s each time. Is very protective over his baby and will go ballistic over even the tiniest nick or scrape. Drives at a normal speed when by himself, but will drive just a bit faster when carting around a friend (especially if it’s a female friend). Doesn’t really like to wear a helmet himself but will insist on any passengers putting one on. Prefers the quiet of the open road but if in a musical mood it’s always 80’s hair bands; a lot of Def Leppard, Quiet Riot, Van Halen. Can do a variety of tricks on his bike but doesn’t do them often as he doesn’t like to “mess up” his baby any more than necessary.

Sasori

Absolutely 100% HATES driving. Has massive anxiety anytime he has to get behind the wheel, almost to the point where he’d need to take a sedative just to relax. Drives slower than the slowest driver you can think of. Yellow light? Slow down. Green light? Still slow down. Will drive himself to and from work, but any other time would prefer being a passenger in someone else’s car ((in which case he becomes the worst backseat driver in history)), or simply taking the bus. Doesn’t like giving rides to others but if he must, it’ll be a very tense, silent drive (forget about him turning on the radio and ‘breaking his concentration’), and he’ll freak out if a passenger takes their seatbelt off before the car comes to a complete stop. Also has a hyper-awareness to anything that might possibly be wrong with his car; if that check engine light comes on you can bet he’ll be at the mechanic in a heartbeat. Also the type who feels “uncomfortable” if gas tank is below 3/4 full.

Konan

The type who’s always heading somewhere/running errands, and will ask if you need a ride. Very neat and organized car, and always suspiciously shiny (as if she visits the carwash every other day). Seems to know absolutely everybody; is always waving at or honking to people in other cars. Keeps the radio volume down when she has passengers, but when alone she loves to sing at the top of her lungs to 90’s boy bands (her rendition of I Want It That Way by The Backstreet Boys is American-Idol worthy). Is always prepared for anything, especially in the winter; in her trunk is a shovel, an extra blanket, water bottles and protein bars, even emergency flares. May be pretty and delicate but definitely knows her way around a car; can change a tire or check the oil with the best of them.

Kisame

Has very long legs, so needs a car or truck that provides him ample room to stretch. A very relaxed and mellow driver, always puts whoever’s with him immediately at ease. Doesn’t use air fresheners in his car but inside always smells like whatever his cologne is, which is always yummy. Gets a lot of fast-food but always keeps the bags and wrappers stored neatly in a little garbage bag that he empties out daily. Will let his passengers do pretty much anything in his car EXCEPT smoke; he can’t stand the smell of tobacco. Isn’t really a Point A to Point B driver; will always think of other places to stop or visit en-route to his destination. Big fan of Musical music; his all-time favorite cd is the soundtrack to Grease. Also (when by himself) is a car-emoter; Kisame doesn’t let most people see anything but his cheerful side. Bring alone in his car is the only time he’ll cry, or scream, or express anger regarding events or people.

Obito

The type of driver who very often spaces out and “forgets” that he’s driving. Prefers traveling more with animals than with people; most likely to take his dog on a weeklong broad trip. Has been a smoker since his teenage years but is trying to quit, so in his car is the only place he “allows” himself a cigarette (but only when he’s completely alone). Almost started a fire once when he threw a still-lit cigarette out the window, but it flew into the backseat instead. Drives fairly slow unless he’s in a hurry for something (but even then his foot doesn’t press the gas pedal THAT much harder). His musical tastes depend on his mood but whatever he ends up listening to is always car-shakingly loud. Seems to have a new (and interesting) trinket hanging from his rear-view mirror every week. The kind who drives around for several days with his gas tank close to/touching on E because ”he knows his car, it’s fine”.

[piratewithvigor]

My first thought in regard to every band that gets played on my radio station

ACDC: Every dad’s favourite band

Adams, Bryan: Every mom’s favourite singer until Michael Buble came along

Aerosmith: haha they thought Vince Neil was a lady

Alice Cooper: he’s a Game Of Thrones fanboy and I have proof

Alice In Chains: my sister doesn’t like them because she decided AC were Alice Cooper’s initials ONLY

Allman Brothers Band: good music for dropping acid to

Allman, Gregg: That’s too many Gs for one name

Animals: House Of The Rising Sun, or who even cares

Argent: Sometimes Hold Your Head Up is really catchy

Asia: Tuesdays

Autograph: one of the members went on to be a pharmacist

Bachman-Turner Overdrive: There are just so many pop culture jokes about Taking Care Of Business that whatever I say won’t be as funny

Bad Company: with their song; Bad Company, off their album; Bad Company

Benatar, Pat: Always getting her confused with Patti Smith

Black Crowes: I like them for Lickin, but it doesn’t seem to exist outside of one shoddy video on youtube and my old CD

Blackfoot: this band name feels kind of racy

Black Sabbath: Dio was not better or worse than Ozzy; just different

Blondie: I like Call Me, but Blondie confuses me stylistically

Blue Oyster Cult: MORE COWBELL

Bon Jovi: Hello, childhood trauma, I missed you

Boston: ONE GUY. ONE GUY DID IT ALL AND NO ONE KNOWS

Bowie, David: Don’t let your children watch The Man Who Fell To Earth, or David Bowie’s will end up being the third penis they see in life

Browne, Jackson: Another musician ruined by Supernatural

Buffalo Springfield: Jack Nicholson was at the riot they sing about

Burdon, Eric: no ideas, brain empty

Bush: ditto

Candlebox: ditto once more. Who are these people?

Cars: This band feels so gay and so straight at the same time, I can only assume they’re the poster children of bisexual panic

Cheap Trick: I played Dream Police on Guitar Hero so fucking much because it was the only song anyone who played with me could keep up with

Chicago: Chicago 30 exists, but they do not have 30 albums. Fucking riddle me that

Clapton, Eric: 6 discs in one Greatest Hits is too many. That’s called “re releasing your discography”

Cochrane, Tom: For some reason, everyone thinks Rascal Flats did it better

Cocker, Joe: Belushi did it right

Collective Soul: who?

Collins, Phil: If his biggest hits were done by MCR, they would be emo anthems, but because he’s 5′6″ and from the 80s, they’re not

Cream: *Vietnam flashbacks on the hippie side*

CCR: *Vietnam flashbacks on the war side*

CSNY: David Crosby; meh

Deep Purple: THEY’RE SO MUCH MORE THAN SMOKE ON THE WATER

Def Leppard: the only music for when you’re a heartbroken bitch but also a sexy one

Derek And The Dominos: Clapton and ‘Layla’ broke up

Derringer, Rick: Tom Petty if he was from the midwest

Dio: You thought it was an anime reference, but it was me, Dio

Dire Straits: You can tell how bigoted a radio station is based on how much of Money For Nothing they censor

Doobie Brothers: I have yet to smoke weed, but I listen to the Doobies, and I think that’s pretty close

Dylan, Bob: I take back everything I said about him in my youth

Eagles: Hotel California isn’t their best song, but the memes that come from it are second to none

Edgar Winter Group: @the--blackdahlia

Electric Light Orchestra: Actually an orchestra and sound a fuckton like George Harrison

ELO: I really hesitate to ask what happens with the 7 virgins and a mule

Essex, David: no prominent memories of him

Fabulous Thunderbirds: cannot spell

Faces: Who on earth thought that was a good album name?

Faith No More: I got nothing

Fixx: One Thing Leads To Another is a damn bop

Fleetwood Mac: I ain’t straight, but I’m simply not enough of a witch to enjoy them to full potential

Fogerty, John: He got sued cause he sounded like himself

Foghat: Slow Ride slowly becoming less coherent feels like a drug trip

Foo Fighters: He was just excited to buy a grill

Ford, Lita: deserved better

Foreigner: dramatically overplayed

Frampton, Peter: a masterful user of the talk box

Free: dramatically underplayed

Gabriel, Peter: leaving Genesis changed him a lot

Genesis: if someone likes Genesis, clarify the era, because yes, it does matter

Georgia Satellites: sing like you have a cactus in your ass

Golden Earring: Twilight Zone slaps, but it doesn’t slap as hard as this station thinks it does

Grand Funk Railroad: Funk

Grateful Dead: I like their aesthetic more than their music

Great White: there are so many fucking shark jokes

Greenbaum, Norman: makes me think of Subway for some reason

Green Day: the first of the emo revolution

Greg Kihn Band: RocKihnRoll is literally the most clever album name I’ve ever seen

Guns N Roses: They have more than three good songs, but radio stations never recognize that

Hagar, Sammy: I’m still trying to figure out where he lived to take 16 hours to get to LA driving 55 and how fucking fast was he driving beforehand?

Harrison, George: He went from religious to rock, and if he had continued rocking, he would have gotten too cool 

Head East: I respect people who use breakfast foods as album names

Heart: Magic Man and Barracuda are played at least once every goddamn day. They’re not even the best songs!

Hendrix, Jimi: I have both a cousin and a sibling named after Hendrix references

Henley, Don: Dirty Laundry gives me too much inspiration

Hollies: Somehow sound like they’re both from the 60s and the 80s at the same time

Idol, Billy: he’s doing well for himself

INXS: Terminator vibes

Iris, Donnie: knockoff Roy Orbison

James Gang: too many funks

Jane’s Addiction: if TMNT had a grunge band representative

Jefferson Airplane: *assorted cheers*

Jefferson Starship: *assorted boos*

Jethro Tull: The only band to make you feel not cool enough to play the flute

Jett, Joan: icon

J. Geils Band: I requested them on the radio once and it got played

Joel, Billy: he really did just air everybody’s business like that

John Cafferty And The Beaver Brown Band: literally wtf is that name

John, Elton: yarn Elton sits in my basement, unstaring. Please someone take him from me

Joplin, Janis: Queen

Journey: Stop overplaying Don’t Stop Believing. It takes away from the rest of the repetoire

Judas Priest: literally started the gay leather aesthetic

Kansas: another fucking band Supernatural stole

Kenny Wayne Shepherd: the man confuses me to the point where he isn’t in the right place alphabetically

Kiss: Mick Mars and I will simply have to disagree on the subject

Kravitz, Lenny: runaway vibes

Led Zeppelin: Fucking fight me if you don’t think they’re the most talented band (maybe not the most talented individually, but collectively, no one comes close)

Lennon, John: My least favourite Beatle for reasons

Live: I got nothin

Living Colour: slap a decent amount

Loverboy: do you not get TURNT the fuck up to the big Loverboy hits? Who hurt you??

Lynyrd Skynyrd: Sweet Home Alabama is a Neil Young diss track

Marshall Tucker Band: no opinion

Manfred Mann’s Earth Band: VERY STRONG OPINIONS THAT THEY AREN’T GOOD

McCartney, Paul/Wings: Power couple

Meatloaf: I have nothing but respect for a man who willingly named himself Meatloaf

Mellencamp, John: voted cutest lesbian of 1987

Metallica: I liked their appearance on Jimmy Fallon

Midnight Oil: I get them confused for Talking Heads a lot

Modern English: who?

Molly Hatchet: Hollies vibes, but also Georgia Satellites vibes

Money, Eddie: DAN AVIDAN, IF YOU SEE THIS, COVER TAKE ME HOME TONIGHT

Motley Crue: Stan Mick Mars and John Corabi. They’re the only ones who deserve it

Mott The Hoople: no one loves them except for David Bowie

Mountain: props for naming an album ‘Climbing’

Nazareth: I want to make a John Mulaney joke here, but I can never come up with one

Nicks, Stevie: witch queen

Night Ranger: I get them confused with Urge Overkill

Nirvana: Kurt Cobain was the ally grunge needed

Nova, Aldo: he’s Canadian, at least

Nugent, Ted: *serves a ghost as jerky*

Offspring: nothing here

Osbourne, Ozzy: this bitch crazy

Outfield: Your Love is kind of a sketchy song, but it slaps hard

Palmer, Robert: low quality Eddie Money

Pearl Jam: *grunts in Eddie Vedder*

Petty, Tom: I have so many feelings about Tom Petty and they are all good

Pink Floyd: which one is Pink?

Plant, Robert: solo career is a crapshoot, but his voice is unparalleled

Poison: I want them to write a song called ‘Alice Cooper’

Pretenders: I want to say good things, but I have nothing to say

Queen: A doctor of astrophysics, a screaming girl, a disco queen and a diva walk into a bar. It’s Queen; they’re there to play a gig

Queensryche: neutral opinion

Quiet Riot: they got big because of a song they hated. I love that

Rafferty, Gerry: the second-sexiest sax opening in all of music

Rainbow: Ritchie Blackmore created something very magnificent

Ram Jam: one good song and they didn’t even write it

Ratt: I’m sure they have more than Round And Round, but I don’t know it

RHCP: funky, but if you have paid money to hear them, you’re going to The Bad Place (I don’t make the rules)

Red Rider: basically Golden Earring

Reed, Lou: Walk On The Wild Side would be such a cool song if it wasn’t so dull

REM: American Tragically Hip

REO Speedwagon: Props for having a dad joke as an album title

Rolling Stones: Never in my life could I imagine the drummer being named anything but Charlie

Rush: How to make being uncool the coolest fucking shit

Santana: The world needs more Santana

Scandal: There’s something really funny about The Warrior being my brother’s “song” with his girlfriend

Scorpions: Was Wind Of Change written by the CIA? Only the spotify podcast I got an ad for once could say

Seger, Bob: A different variety of Eric Clapton (frankly a better variety, but that’s just me)

Simple Minds: we ALL forgot about you

Skid Row: Sebastian Bach is prettier than all of us

Soundgarden: music that makes you feel like you dunked your head underwater

Springsteen, Bruce: my arch-nemesis. Maybe someday, he’ll find out about it

Squeeze: according to my friends, the stupidest band name ever, but they’re theatre kids, so you know

Squier, Billy: If he can make it through 1984 alive, you can make it through whatever bad day you’re having

Stealers Wheel: Yet another band who I always mistake for George Harrison

Steely Dan: my house’s nickname for the Robber in Settlers Of Catan

Steppenwolf: Either makes me think of Jay & Silent Bob, Jack Nicholson, or that time I had to cut 6lbs of onions

Steve Miller Band: when you’re in the right mood, they slap hard

Stewart, Rod: my soundtrack to summer 2015

Stills, Stephen: Love The One You’re With Is Catchy, but the lyrics are questionable

Stone Temple Pilots: the only band to write a song about goo you smear on yourself

Stray Cats: an obscene amount of merch is available for them

Styx: Supernatural would have ruined them for me too if I hadn’t been into them previously. 

Supertramp: I hunted for Breakfast In America for two years and it was worth every hunt

Sweet: I will never understand my two-month obsession with Ballroom Blitz when I was 15, but it was legit all I listened to

Talking Heads: you may find yourself in a pizza hut. And you may find yourself in a taco bell. And you may find yourself at the combination pizza hut and taco bell. And you may ask yourself; ‘how did I get here?’

Temple Of The Dog: I keep confusing them for Nazareth

Ten Years After: somehow still relevant

Tesla: not the car or the dude

The Beatles: Evokes a lot of opinions from people. Mine is that I love them

The Clash: I showed my sister the ‘Lock The Taskbar’ vine ONCE and it still kills her

The Doors: evokes teenage terror from deep within my soul

The Guess Who: Canada’s answer to confusing question-themed band names

The Kinks: kinky

The Police: wrote the theme of 2020 and everyone somehow forgot it was about a teacher resisting becoming a pedophile

The Ramones: playing all of their songs in a row wouldn’t take more than 2 hours

The Romantics: you don’t think you know them, but if you’ve seen Shrek 2, you have

The Who: If someone can explain Tommy to me, I’d be glad to hear it

The Zombies: I think they happened because of the 60s

Thin Lizzy: Could the boys maybe leave town?

Thorogood, George: blues, but make it modern

Toto: the most memed song behind All Star

Townshend, Pete: just makes me think of the end of Mr. Deeds

T-Rex: Mark Bolan is an icon

Triumph: The no-name brand of Rush

Tubes: like the yogurt

Twisted Sister: they did a christmas album and my mom does NOT hate it

U2: U2 Movers; we move in mysterious ways

Van Halen: RIP Eddie

Van Morrison: honestly, who’s named Van?

Vaughn, Stevie Ray: Steamy Ray Vaughn

Walsh, Joe: The Smoker You Drink The Player You Get

War: Foghat, but even groovier

Whitesnake: the most successful band to be named after a penis

Wright, Gary: the 90s thanks him for writing the song every movie used for the “guy sees cute girl and it’s love at first sight” scene

Yes: To Be Continued

Young, Neil: The best part of CSNY

Zevon, Warren: the album cover of Excitable Boy makes me deeply uncomfortable for reasons I don’t understand

ZZ Top: has been the same three guys since 1969. Lineup unchanged. 

3 Doors Down: They feel a little modern to be on a classic rock station, but whatever

38 Special: Why 38?

[kythed]

synopsis: it’s a tragic case of boy meets girl, boy likes girl, girl has a boyfriend. [un]luckily for you, semi doesn’t play by the rules... and you don’t really want him to.

tagged: semi eita x reader, fluff, mediocre writing.

commitment level: 2,583 words.

table of contents | next chapter >>

They say young love is a rite of passage. They say it’s fresh and light, it’s wading in the shallows of a swiftly flowing river and letting the deliciously frigid water take you wherever it flows. They say young love comes easily. 

But they don’t tell you youth is not a remedy for pain. They don’t tell you the cold of that water burns your skin, too — it leaves your fingertips numb and kisses your palms an angry red. They say “it’s just puppy love,” but they don’t tell you puppies grow into wolves. 

+

You’re eighteen when you first meet Semi Eita, and he’s twenty-two. It’s not a highly significant age gap, but it’s noticeable enough. 

“She’s a baby,” he says, eyes grey as the southern sea and just as unforgiving. Though he’s young, the weight of an iron giant rests on his slender shoulders. 

“She’s talented, Semi,” says Akamine, tone wheedling. He fiddles with the lapels of his coat — it’s Italian, all cream silk and bronze buttons. “She’s capable.” 

Twenty year old Akamine Keo is a trust-fund kid, born into the arms of an oil empire he’ll someday fall heir to. He’s charming, clever, and sweet, with distinctly expensive good looks, fine features and black hair like raven’s feathers. He also happens to be your boyfriend. 

“That means nothing,” Semi says, peering into your face. An uncomfortable chill tickles the back of your neck as you fight the urge to look away. “There are toddlers who can shred Led Zeppelin, but they’re not musicians. They’re puppets controlled by overzealous tiger moms. They can’t take the heat of the real industry.”

“I can take the heat.” Your words bleed out heavy and sharp, a rough gash through the palpably thick tension. Fingernails leaving painful half-moons on your palms, you clench and unclench your fists down at your sides. “And I can sure as hell shred better than any toddler.”

For a split second, surprise flashes across Semi’s face, only to be quickly replaced by a wry smile. “Brave.” 

You stare at him, lips sucked in and eyes narrowed as Akamine slings an arm over your shoulders and presses a kiss to your temples. 

“See?” he says with a laugh. “She’s talented, capable, and brave.”

“Well,” says Semi, drawing the word out. He cocks his head, giving you one last hard once-over, before extending a hand for a firm shake. “We’ll see. I’ll give you two months. A trial.” 

You accept this compromise, returning the shake. Semi’s still skeptical, you can tell, but you make a vow to yourself — you’re about to blow this sonuvabitch out of the water. As Akamine crows in delight, Semi’s eyes don’t leave yours. 

Good luck, they seem to be saying. You’ll need it. 

You smile, and he smiles back. 

I won’t. 

+

Semi’s a phenomenal bassist. When you’d first started dating Akamine and he’d just joined Semi’s band, he could scarcely shut up about it — “His name’s Semi Eita, and I swear he’s got magic in those fingers, babe.” 

Well, Semi Eita’s about to be dethroned, because your fingers are magic, too. 

For those two months, you’re the band’s lead guitarist, and you pass Semi’s test with flying colors. It takes a couple weeks to fall into step with the other guys — Semi on bass, Akamine on drums, and a quiet college kid called Yasuda on keys — but you’re a quick study, and soon you’re a cornerstone, expertly weaving searing arpeggios of dashed dreams and fiery hopes up and down the band’s underlying tunes. 

(You should’ve seen it coming.)

You and Semi somehow become co-songwriters. He has a knack for melodies, and you have a knack for lyrics. Akamine doesn’t seem to mind the long hours you spend in Semi’s company, working in a whirlwind of messy notes and empty energy drink cans — he trusts you. 

(Sometimes you feel like maybe he shouldn’t.)

“What do you think of this?” Semi says, idly twirling a pencil between his fingers. It’s 10pm on a Friday night, and you’re stretched out on his couch, inhaling chow mein from a greasy paper box. “For the second verse, I mean.” 

“Lemme see,” you say around a mouthful of noodles, snatching the paper from his hand. You furrow your brow. “‘Tear me open like a scarlet letter, cruelly addressed ‘return to sender…’’ Jeez, Semi. Who hurt you?” 

Semi scowls. “It’s a breakup song, isn’t it? It’s supposed to hurt.” 

“You might consider being a little more… subtle,” you suggest, offering him a fortune cookie. He takes it and sets it aside.

“Heartbreak isn’t subtle,” he says, shooting you a look that speaks of throbbing phantom wounds. “It cuts deep. All the way down to the heart. Hence the name heartbreak.” 

“Wow. I had no idea,” you say drily. You swing your legs over the couch and sit upright, snatching his pencil. “I just think we should tackle this with nuance, not just write another ‘eff you’ ballad.” 

“This world can always use another ‘eff you’ ballad,” Semi says humorlessly, resting his chin in his hand. 

You regard his suddenly silent demeanor as he stares, unseeing, out the window. It’s dark outside, and it’s a darkness that speaks less of peaceful sleep and more of emptiness. 

You sigh, nudging him with your foot. “What was her name?” 

“What?”

“Her name. This demon of a girl that hurt you so badly.” 

For a moment, it seems he’s going to argue, to deny ever being afflicted with something so childish as lovesickness. Then he runs a defeated hand through his hair and shakes his head, laughing. “You’re too curious for your own good.”

You wait. There’s a brief, uncomfortable silence as Semi chews his lip.

“...Her name was Aiko,” he says finally, inspecting his nails with a faux nonchalance. “Smokin’ hot. Met her in music school three or so years ago, I think — she was a TA, a few years older than I was.”

“Older women, huh?” you tease. This is new territory — you’re dipping a toe into the forbidden arena of flirtation. A shadow of guilt creeps into the back of your mind as you think of Akamine, but the bright light of Semi’s crooked grin swiftly flushes it away.

“Yeah,” he says, leaning over to flick your leg. “I don’t date babies like you.” 

“Maybe you should consider it,” you say, unthinking. Semi stares at you, eyebrow raised, and you flush, frantically backtracking. “Not me specifically. I’m just saying — well, I mean, ‘cause this Aiko chick was such a bad time and everything.” 

“If you have a crush on me, just admit it,” Semi says. You’re sure it’s meant to come across jokingly, but the way he’s eyeing you twists your stomach into a pleasurable knot. Then he sighs, leaning back on his arms. “She was a great time, actually. It’s the ending that sucked ass.” 

The question lingers at the tip of your tongue, hesitant like an ill-trained acrobat, but before it even attempts the leap, Semi answers.

“It burned.” He looks straight at you, and you can taste the bitterness in his words. “It burned, and not a day goes by that I can’t remember how awful it felt.” 

+

That’s the first of the many secrets you trade with him. 

Later that night, you tell Semi about your first kiss, about how the recipient smelled like Old Spice and tasted like chapstick, how he walked you to your front door and introduced himself to your mom. About how he took your virginity six months later, and how you soon realized there are some things in life you don’t get an exchange receipt for. 

Semi tells you his favorite color is green, and that outer space scares him more than anything. (He doesn’t like thinking about life in other galaxies because he can hardly handle thinking about life right here.)

You tell him you like milk tea with 75% sweetness, and he promises he’ll take you to his favorite cafe sometime. (“Not a date,” he assures you, and you internally scold yourself for wishing it was one.)

He says he once accidentally kicked a stray cat while trying to find a volleyball he lost in the bushes near his house, and that’s why he considers himself a cat person now: as repentance. (He has a pet cat called Haru, and he shows you a picture — Haru is small and black with bright yellow eyes. You say he’s cute, but Semi corrects you: “Not cute. Fierce.”) 

You say you used to wish life had a restart button, so you could turn back time and dance through each year without making a single mistake.

Semi says he still wishes that. 

(Another thing they don’t tell you is how secrets are really currency. Secrets can’t help but pay for familiarity, and familiarity often leads to something more.)

+

It’s a couple weeks later when you have your first gig. It’s at a bar downtown, and Yasuda nabs fakes for you and Akamine, though you don’t plan on drinking. Not much, anyways. 

(Speaking of Akamine, your relationship with him has grown strained over the past month. He’s stretched himself thin between the band and his business degree, and you — well, whenever your phone pings, you can’t stop hoping it’s from Semi.)

Five minutes before show time, Semi turns to you, eyes wide. “We don’t have a band name.” 

“What?”

“We don’t have a band name.” He looks around, frantically trying to draw inspiration from something in the dimly lit bar. “Quick, think of something.” 

So you think for a moment, chewing your inner cheek, before reaching out and tugging on Semi’s sleeve. “Paper.”

“Paper?”

“Paper.”

Paper is fragile, it’s thin, it’s easy to come by. But it’s also a world of potential on one sheet, a story waiting to be written. 

When the bar owner walks onto the stage and introduces the band, you know you’ve made the right decision. And from the glittering smile Semi flashes you before nodding at Akamine to count you in, you know he thinks so too. 

The show goes on without a hitch, and even though the bar is far from packed, you’re just as proud as you’d be playing in a stadium of screaming fans. The air smells of stale whiskey and fresh beginnings, and as your fingers dance up and down your Gibson’s fretboard, you hear colors — rich teal, smooth mahogany, creamy gold and silver brighter than the stars. Akamine keeps the rhythm like a war drum, and Semi, as always, is perfect. Yasuda, doubling as the main vocalist, sings until his voice gets wonderfully low and raspy, keyboard taking some of the heat as he grins back at you, mouthing how badly his throat hurts.

You’re sweaty when the set’s done, and Akamine buys you a drink, giving you a quick, half-hearted kiss and a tired smile.

Akamine’s always been kind to you.

“I gotta go,” he says, squeezing your hand. “Essay due tomorrow at ten.” 

He looks so genuinely sorry to leave, you almost feel guilty. 

+

You’re packing up your amps into the back of Semi’s van, alone in the parking lot save for the moon many miles above, hanging bright and full in a clear sky. The moon has seen all your most indulgent sins, and she’s going to see one more tonight.

“You did well.” Semi heaves the last of the equipment into his truck before turning to you, wiping his palms on his jeans. “Consider me impressed.”

“Why, thank you,” you say, giving him a mock bow. “So glad I’ve finally managed to impress the Semi Eita.” 

He regards you for a moment, arms crossed. A small sigh escapes his lips. It’s both a sigh of resignation and one of anticipation. 

Then, in one smooth motion, he steps close, reaches out, and pulls you close by the waist. 

You stare up at him, all too aware of the heat radiating from his body. His skin is burning, and his cologne is different from Akamine’s — it’s not expensive, it’s not a multilayered, deep, woody scent. It’s cheap, the sort of cologne a struggling musician can afford, but it smells of home.

“Forgive me for what I’m about to do,” he whispers, sliding a hand up your jaw to cup your face. His hair glows silver and ghostly under the streetlamps. 

“And what are you about to do?” Your voice is deadly quiet, and your chest feels a deathly cold despite Semi’s proximity, refusing to thaw as you await his answer. 

“Kiss you absolutely senseless.” 

Semi’s never been one to make empty promises, and right now is no exception. He presses his lips to yours and you immediately melt into his arms, suddenly craving him and only him. You’re not entirely sure how you’ve managed to avoid devouring him whole up until this point, because he kisses like Eros, full of pomegranate seeds and crimson blossoms, of days spent in clandestine bliss. He kisses like a man on death row, desperate and longing, hands squeezing your waist like your body is his only anchor to life itself. 

Semi Eita wants to be a rockstar, but right now he’s just a boy kissing a girl he’s bound to fall deeply, inexplicably in love with. 

When he finally breaks away, you’re breathless, staring up at him like you’ve just seen an angel. Your hands are still curled in the front of his shirt, you’re still standing on tiptoe, lips just inches from his. 

“Semi…” You swallow hard. “Akamine’s a good guy… I can’t.”

Semi tenses his jaw, taking a finger to lift your chin. “Then why are you looking at me like that?” 

Your voice is barely above a whisper. “Like what?”

“Like you’re hungry.” 

He’s got you there. 

You’re standing on a balance beam splitting two vastly different worlds. On one side there’s the known: Akamine and his bright, blue-eyed optimism, his willingness to shoulder burdens he shouldn’t have to. There’s his sweet touch and soft kisses, his firm words of reassurance and his sunny laughter shedding light on your hidden depths. 

The known is comforting. It’s familiar. 

But on the other side… there’s the unknown. There’s Semi Eita in all his scalded glory, his sharp tongue and headstrong determination. There’s his burning touch, his fingers leaving scorch marks on your cheek and his lips depositing glowing embers in your mouth, ready to ignite at a single inflammatory word. There’s his moonstone enigma, the shadow underlying his every sentence like smudged eyeliner. 

The unknown is frightening, almost overwhelmingly so… but there’s something in you, something willful and terribly thirsty, that draws you to this unknown and the possibility of knowing it. 

“Because I am.” 

And you grab his face and pull it down to yours, impatient, frustrated by months of dancing around that painfully tangible attraction, that magnetism — finally, you allow yourself to fall, hurtling through a chasm of fallen stars and ancient suns, hanging on to nothing but Semi and his carefully guarded secrets. 

You kiss him hard, pouring your soul into his mouth, all your youthful doubt and hope. You knot your fingers in his hair, and he pulls you into his chest, pressing your body so close it’s as if he wants to make it a part of himself. 

And when you part for the second time, chest heaving, you know you’ve fallen completely, entirely, without a doubt. 

[givemeonebreath]

A big, messy Linked Universe playlist

Link for Links

Heavy on the angst, because of who I am as a person. (At the same time, don’t take it too seriously, man.)

Influenced by canon, manga (TP Link is really Going Through It™ ), my personal perceptions, and popular fandom canon.

A pretty wide variety of genres, with a bias towards metal and prog rock.

I kept snippets of lyrics for most songs, also because of who I am as a person. (Some were particularly hard to narrow down to just one verse or chorus.) Those - and a little more rambling - are under the cut if you really want, in the order of the playlist. But. It’s long.

I didn’t initially make this with the intent to share, but hey. Throughout my past year+ of listening, I’ve been haphazardly adding songs to a playlist I very creatively named Links. If something reminded me of them, whether through the music or lyrics or both, I threw it on the playlist, so some songs might seem odd or vague. Some are really on the nose, as subtle as a sledgehammer. (Sky for Sky? Dude. Sorry.) Some are there because of a fitting line or two that stuck in my head. Ultimately, music - like any form of creative expression - can be interpreted in a multitude of ways. 

My listening habits and tastes are erratic, which is why this is one big, jumbled playlist and not separated for different Links. Not to mention if I did that, some (Wild, Legend) would have a lot and some (Wind, Four) would have none, both because of my own familiarity with them, and because of the general themes of the music I tend to listen to. Most songs are a general ‘hero’s spirit reborn’ mood, anyway - those are the first part of the playlist. The second half is more nuanced to specific Links, plus a few Ganon vibes.

1. Deep Purple - April (Koji Kondo, composer of the original Legend of Zelda theme, was into Deep Purple as a kid, and it shows.)

2. Kamelot - Regalis Apertura

3. Au4 - So Just Hang On, Beautiful One (I’ve posted this here before. I can’t hear it without thinking of LU now.) So I slipped in through the gate almost unknown. All my border stamps were late. Seven days old. Cold hand griped my shoulder blade, broke the bone. Bloody nose and turned away, all the way home.

4. FC Kahuna - Hayling Don’t think about all those things you fear, just be glad to be here

5. Glass Animals - Youth Boy, when I left you you were young I was gone, but not my love You were clearly meant for more Than a life lost in the war

6. Pain of Salvation - Restless Boy A restless boy in a world too slow A flame born into cinder, ash, and glow I've given everything I gave it all Yet find myself alone

7. Haken - The Endless Knot Our design shifted frame by frame! Across the line our cycle starts to fail. Our design shifted frame by frame! Across the line we die to live again.   We need a story to believe in. We need a hero to prevail. We need a challenge we can overcome, it takes a tragedy to make us one 

8. Kamelot - Memento Mori (I particularly associate this with Time and Twilight) I am the god in my own history The master of the game I may believe if she would come to me And whisper out my name Sometimes I wonder where the wind has gone If life has ever been Sometimes I wonder how belief alone Can cut me free from sin

9. Katatonia - Fighters Look I told you so We never stop If we said that We'll back it up For sure You know We're fighters

10. Megadeth - This Day We Fight! (I mean, all Links, but particularly Warriors) For this I was chosen, because I fear nothing With confidence I tread through the dead of the night Off to another war-torn, faraway battlefield Wherein lies a demonic enemy horde

11. Moon Tooth - Igneous Well, the spirit took me And this old broken body leapt up and danced Settin’ out Settin' out with all my heroes in a bundle at my back Hawk am I More wings span in my shadow than overcast Yeah, you know what they say Always need something to look up to, ha

12. Samael - Moongate Destiny, tomorrow is today Destiny, without boundaries How many nights will we spend together traveling infinity back and forth and again How many times will we go together questioning eternity about us about our wonders...

13. TOOL- Parabola This body holding me reminds me of my own mortality Embrace this moment, remember We are eternal, all this pain is an illusion

14. Lunatic Soul - Blood on the Tightrope No matter how hard you try To shut down your feverish thoughts They hunt you down with no regret Cause you have to fix it all

15. Hybrid - Keep It In The Family

16. Soul Savers - Unbalanced Pieces Gone, now carry on Through violent seasons I call you mother, mother, mother In vain, absent chain The twilight's bleeding And the playing board has two unbalanced pieces

17. Steve Von Till - Valley of the Moon All she gives is a stone facade Like ill-given flowers at a dead man's wake Here we slave for the dreams of another And fight over scraps like wayward dogs

18. Ludovico Einaudi - Experience

19. Lunatic Soul - Summoning Dance Three stones on the right side Three stones on the left My vicious circle of life and death   “Oh you want it” I hear it again “Oh you want it” My burden Curse to break

20. Lunatic Soul - Through Shaded Woods Run through your shaded woods Run through your shaded mind Run through the night Run away Run through the darkness Run

21. Lunatic Soul - Naavie

22. David Bowie - Nature Boy There was a boy A very strange, enchanted boy They say he wandered very far Very far, over land and sea A little shy and sad of eye But very wise was he

23. The Dandy Warhols - Sleep Well, I could sleep forever But it's of her I dream If I could sleep forever I could forget about everything 

24. Au4 - Everyone is Everyone (and Everything is Everything) Tripping and tumbling, Flipping and fumbling. Flowing on the rivers of sadness That have been forever rumbling.   But from dawn until now Of all the paths that I could have gone down Of all the valleys That I could have been flowing through.   In spite of all the chaos And all that has come between us, How is it I still find myself Here with you. 

25. Kingcrow - Everything Goes Your hands again upon the ground Falling rain for hours and hours As you learn the game Time dispels the fog ... Ever been there? Ever felt like prey? Ever thought your mind was feeble? Lot of things that don’t make sense

26. Pain of Salvation - Icon As a child I felt too old And now when I'm grown-up I feel too young A different kind so I've been told Just slightly out of reach and out of time

27. Sophia Loizou - Divine Interference (I got spooky dungeon vibes. Also, the title.)

28. Carpenter Brut - Fab Tool Runnin Gunnin Forward in the phantom shatter so grand Splatter grand, arcanum fuel Wrought iron out of the sky Over me, tells no lie

29. Blue Stahli - Death Will Have to Run All on the open road Where none will ever grow A journey toward the known With countless miles to go

30. Gyroscope - Mistakes & Ladders I am the first? No I can't be the first A continuous nothing, destined for something Tell me who you are and why you trapped me here

31. Queens of the Stone Age - Run, Pig, Run Run, pig, run Here I come

32. Chali 2na & Krafty Kuts - Guard The Fort The swords are drawn and odds are stacked And we clash the impact's a thunderous clap Calm demeanor Even though we are under attack [...my turn to guard the fort ready for combat]

33. The Great Discord - Army of Me (lol)

34. Kongos - Terrified I think I'll start again and change my name You only live once or twice, what a shame Somebody fucked up when designing this game

35. Woodkid - Run Boy Run Run, boy, run! This ride is a journey to Run, boy, run! The secret inside of you Run, boy, run! This race is a prophecy Run, boy, run! And disappear in the trees

36. The Beta Machine - The End A million miles away from you this time I'll do what it takes I'm on my way If lines are in the sand I'll go under If I can make it in time I will bring you back with me

37. Devin Townsend Project - Gump When we last met who was I? I'm sorry we no longer see eye to eye The energy to keep you in while keeping myself out I'm sorry how you'll take this  But I just don't have the patience anymore 

38. Arrested Youth - Riot! I can't get much satisfaction living in this cave It's tough to breathe, I'm in the belly of the beast Can't sleep with all my rage With me and all my generations living in this cage Pick up your guns and tell your sons, tonight we break the cage

39. Led Zeppelin - Friends So anytime somebody needs you Don't let them down, although it grieves you Some day you'll need someone like they do Looking for what you knew

40. Faunts - M4, pt 2 (Wild) Fight your foes you're not alone Holy war is on the phone Asking to please stay on hold Bleeding loss of blood runs cold And I need you to recover   Because I can't make it on my own

41. Faith No More - Ashes to Ashes (Wild) I want them to know it's me, it's on my head I'll point the finger at me, it's on my head Smiling with the mouth of the ocean And I'll wave to you with the arms of the mountain

42. Devin Townsend - Jupiter (Wild) I know you At least I think I do Everything's changed But in the days that are so dark It's wonderful

43. Katatonia - Neon Epitaph (Wild) Shadow of my shadow Cling not to my grief I am long left behind now You are free

44. The Smashing Pumpkins - The Beginning is the End is the Beginning (Wild) Time has stopped before us The sky cannot ignore us No one can separate us For we are all that is left The echo bounces off me The shadow lost beside me There's no more need to pretend Cause now I can begin again 

45. Katatonia - Lacquer (Wild) My voice travelling Soaring bird above your head The house we lived in Ridden with disease ... The levee breaking I can't live to fight once more The road to the grave is straight as an arrow I'm just staying around to sing your song, baby

46. Eskimo Joe - This is Pressure (Wild) There is no romance in suffocation  The walls fall down like your expectations You want to scream  And you want to shout But you've built up steam  And you can't let it out This is pressure 

47. Portugal. The Man - 1000 Years (Wild) We'll wait 1000 years  Until the end of time We'll wait 1000 more Dressed up in gold and white We'll climb the mountain sides  To find what's in the sky We'll dig through mountain sides  To find what's deep inside

48. Au4 - An Ocean’s Measure of Sorrow (Wild) Forgot my name and who I was. Memories of nothing floating up. All of the sorrow we once knew, Colours the ocean's water blue.

49. Band of Skulls - Carnivorous (Twilight) I am corrosive and cohesive Like a chemical bond I'm all together undone I am the broken kingdom I'm just so, so, so  So carnivorous

50. Glass Animals - Flip (Twilight) I wanna go back with a club and attack I wanna take to my guns and break you I gotta make my little foe take his own

51. TV on the Radio - Wolf Like Me (Twilight) My mind has changed my body's frame, but, God, I like it My heart's aflame, my body's strained, but, God, I like it

52. Kamelot - The Spell (Twilight) All my demons cast a spell The souls of dusk rising from the ashes So the book of shadows tell The weak will always obey the master

53. OSI - Radiologue (Legend) I was dreaming I was heading west thirty days faster Had a fever woke up in a sweat bailing out the water  Can't go on Can't go back   Heard your voice coming through the noise wrote it in the radio log Hurt my head, wondering what you said so I threw it overboard  

54. Katatonia - Don’t Tell A Soul (Legend) I have been destroyed by the perfection that is a lie see I'm moving soon see my feet are already on the road and if you know where I’m going don’t tell a soul

55. Haken - The Mind’s Eye (Legend) The shape of things to come are closer than they seem Changing your design every time you disappear I'm planning my escape through portals of your mind Where people seem to drop like flies

56. Pain of Salvation - Species (Legend) Sometimes I hate my fucking species Yet most days I'll do anything to please it  My generation was fooled to pursue our dreams But it is not what it seems You never need what you want And you rarely want what you need

57. Euringer - Do You Kiss Your Mama with That Mouth? (Legend) All my life, misunderstood I'm fuckin' too smart, too smart for my own good The last question, before I go is "Hey motherfucka, do you kiss your mama with that mouth?"  Yes! I kiss your mama with this mouth

58. !!! - Pardon My Freedom (Legend) Like I give a fuck, like I give a shit Like I give a fuck about that shit Like I give a fuck about that motherfucking shit

59. Team Sleep - Ataraxia (Legend) Froze asleep Coma deep I dream I'm out with you Alone at sea

60. Oliver Tank - Embrace (Legend) You're in my dreams The world is torn apart at the seams And I don't wanna leave Wearing my heart on it's sleeve

61. Machine Gun Fellatio - The Girl of My Dreams (Is Giving Me Nightmares) (Legend) The girl of my dreams is giving me nightmares I don't know what it means but she's got multi-coloured hair When she stands in the sand I dream of peaches And I'm not sure what that means either

62. Earl Greyhound - Shotgun (Legend & Hyrule) I am nobody, nobody is who I am I am a traveler on this land And nothing, nothing, nothing in my hands

63. TV on the Radio - Staring at the Sun (Hyrule) You're staring at the sun You're standing in the sea Your mouth is open wide You're trying hard to breathe The water's at your neck There's lightning in your teeth Your body's over me

64. Echo & The Bunnymen - The Killing Moon (Time) Fate Up against your will Through the thick and thin He will wait until You give yourself to him

65. Sufjan Stevens - Sugar (Sky) Don’t break my heart, don’t break my flow now And all this rage has got to go now Let’s take up this lifeline Come on, baby, gimme some sugar Don’t make me wait Don’t make me wait too long Don’t make me sing the sad song Come on, baby, gimme some sugar

66. Obsydians - Ascension (Sky) Rise above the hardships you’ll face I will sign and keep on rising As long as you are giving me your soul and keep me awake Feel like home and spread your light around I will listen and just be there As long as you are giving me your love I’ll give you my soul

67. Sonique - Sky -_-

68. Enter Shikari - The King (Ganon) Watch your back, my friend I'm about to kickstart a cycle Of never ending revenge And this time it's primal, it's tribal

69. Saul Williams - WTF! (Ganon, Hylia) "You've been polluted, uprooted by time You have been muted, computed but I'm A living vessel of the one, of the moon, of the sun" Hey! You ain't as dead as you seem, what the fuck? Hey! But you keep living your lies

70. These New Puritans - We Want War (Ganon/ Dark Link/ any nemesis I guess) Shadows dance back up, it's happening again If you listen carefully you might hear them whisper: "We hold all the secrets, we hold all the words; But they're scrambled and broken so you'll never know" Can't you see them Floating like black ash? Can't you feel them Crawling down your back?

[gyllenhaalstories]

SOUTHPAW, PART 1: HEADCANONS.

notes: dear anon: thank you for making me appreciate jake the rapper! also i know nothing about rap, so i’m sorry if this is pure trash! i never finished watching southpaw because it was too dark for me, but i took some very loose inspiration from it. warnings: mentions of dark past, mentions of sexual content... this got really long (2k words). gifs credits: alphalewolf. extras: if you want more informations about rapper!jake, please scroll through my blog. i have edited some older posts with the tag: topic: rapper!jake, so check it out if you’re interested. i have taken some ideas and put them in this list. (at the end of the list i provided some goodies!)

PART TWO WILL BE UPLOADED SOON, KEEP AN EYE OUT FOR IT!

attention, attention! please note i know absolutely nothing about rap. i very rarely enjoy listening to rap music, it’s simply not for me. this might be inaccurate and off compared to the actual world of hip hop and other similar genres. i apologize for my lack of knowledge! this is an au in which jake is not an actor or a producer or anything of the sort. his fame, he built it with his music. you must keep that in mind while reading these headcanons or else it will get confusing. also, i’ve taken some loose inspiration from jake’s actual work, but that’s just for the sake of backstory. are you ready to dive in this twisted fantasy?

Jake Gyllenhaal. Known as Hall. He exploded the charts after being picked up by one of the biggest record companies for his first album: Hall of Fame. He was a rookie, yet he was older than most of the rappers you can think of today. He worked his way up undercover. He started participating in poetry and slam nights at local cafés. He became a songwriter, through connections. He sold some songs that are absolute classics today, but he does not care. He did not feel like they fit him anyway.

Growing up, Jake had it rough. There was a lot of fighting at home. His older sister was the perfect angel and him? The absolute disaster child. It was not like he ran after danger and trouble, he seemed to always be at the wrong place in the wrong time, he hung out with the wrong crowd. He managed to avoid juvie on some miracle. What was the miracle, you might ask? He was caught robbing some local bank with his “friends” and the cops, at first, did not believe he was innocent. While his friends were screaming and threatening the innocent clients of the bank, Jake actually tried to help them out of the building safely. The cops arrived at the same moment and thought he was keeping the strangers hostage. He was arrested on the spot. The other guys played the victims, blamed it all on Jake but it was only when Jake wrote the whole story, from the beginning where his friends manipulated him and made of him their puppet to when he felt this adrenaline rush telling him he needed to save the strangers that night. His writing was too sincere, too raw to be a web of lies. The police released him, but they kept an eye on him.

His escape were writing and music. He impressed all of his teachers at school. Talented, gifted, magical. That was how they described Jake at every parent and teacher meeting. Writing dumb sentences that made very little sense and playing with a guitar after school, that did not make his parents very proud compared to his sister who was on top of all of her classes and working hard for a future of wealth and success.

Music was his entire life. He would come home from school and blast music until he was called out for dinner. Led Zeppelin, Aerosmith, Black Sabbath, Heart, Pink Floyd, Metallica, name it. He liked it loud. He liked it weird. He liked it with a deeper message, with double meaning.

He worked all types of jobs, some legal and some not so much. He was saving money for college. He applied. He got in. He started his classes. He had big dreams, too, he had ambitions. Maybe he could his talent to good use? He wanted to study philosophy, literature, music, creative writing... Anything that required thought and depth. He made friends, there. He befriended the edgy punk guy, he had tattoos everywhere, he listened to the same bands, he was quiet but his essays spoke volumes.

Jake was disappointed, his illusions were broken. He hated the format of his classes, the feeling like his opinion and his inspiration did not matter, it was always about meeting some stupid requirements to please a rich professor who did not care about passion, about talent, about originality. Jake dropped out, soon followed by his friend. His friend was hired at a tattoo parlor and Jake hung out there all the time. He would stay up until 5 am, 6, 7, all night and all day long. He loved the clients there. He would write and read his writing out loud to the clients when they were tortured by the needle shooting the ink in their skin. Talented and gifted, they all the same thing.

He started to see the light at the end of the tunnel.

He wrote, not just stories and opinion pieces. He started writing songs, melody and lyrics. He started playing them, he started writing his own poetry too. He was introduced to freestyle battles. And as he fought against other talented thinkers, he noticed he spoke with a tempo, with a rhythm. He was rapping and he did not even realize it.

His career sky rocketed from the moment a music producer attended one of the rap battles. He was famous, he got quite the thick wallet and the connections. Jake was introduced to legends of hip hop. They all influenced him as his career grew to become something overwhelming and terrifying, yet thrilling and addictive.

Hall had a style of his own, though. It was romantic, yet absolutely disgusting and dark. It was aggressive, yet vulnerable and philosophical. He spoke of his trauma, of his hatred, of his envy, of his fears... He used his songs as an escape. He was becoming his own escape.

And his own prison. His family did not care about him, he was a shame, even. Aside from his old college friend, he never built strong friendships. They were all after him for fame and cash. He slept around, guys and gals, threesomes, foursomes... He did not care, anything for some genuine connection, even if it lasted for a very lazy and messy fifteen minutes in the trashy bathroom of a concert hall. Rumour had it he was a great lover, but he was so bad at loving.

Now it gets interesting...

Hall rapped alongsides Eminem, Drake, Kendrick Lamar, Travis Scott... The biggest pop stars were fighting just to get him to rap a line in their songs. Rihanna wishes he was the one singing Love the way you lie, does that give you an idea? He appeared on duets. He wrote more solo albums, sold them instantly. He never left the top of the billboard in weeks, months, if not years. It never really got to his head. He was still that sensitive boy writing about knights and princesses in his bedroom with walls covered by band posters. Fans did not care about this side of him, they loved him for his lyrics about snorting coke, drinking his pain away and fucking whoever wore the tiniest skirt around.

His latest album, Southpaw, was an even bigger hit. Pure filth. Pure gold. Imagine 13 tracks, Cardi’s and Megan’s WAP but reversed. He does not rap about how good he fucks people. He raps about how good they feel. That’s some real depth here, no pun intended.

You met him at one of his concerts. Your friend won VIP passes, so you were standing in the front and got to take a picture with him. You did not understand the hype around taking a photo with this guy, he just stood there and looked absolutely emotionless.

You hated rap, or perhaps you loved it. You did not care much for Jake, that was for sure. You thought he was just another lame rapper who thought he was the real deal because his lyrics were so explicit, even the clean versions made angels cry. The truth was, you did not know much a bout him. You found him too commercial, like he was scared of becoming irrelevant.

You saw right through him already.

But him? He already cared too much about you. You caught his attention as he rapped his songs. He could not take his eyes off you. You weighted heavy on his mind, caused him to stutter and forget lyricvs. Fans laughed, they said he was probably too drunk or too high too focus. Drunk in love, that’s what it was.

There was something about you. Maybe it was the Black Sabbath shirt you wore. Maybe it was the unimpressed look on your face. Maybe it was your plump lips he wanted to kiss. Maybe it was the sight of you laughing with your friend that made his heart skip a beat. Maybe it was the fact you treated him like a normal person even if you had not spoken to him first.

So, you met backstage.

Your friend was beaming from ear to ear, showering Jake in compliments.

“Did you enjoy the show?” Jake asked you.

“For someone who shows no emotion, sound dead inside and look like they wish they were doing anything but making dozens of thousands of dollars by singing a couple of semi mediocre tracks, yeah, it was not that horrible.”

He was up for a challenge.

You two exchanged insults like it was a boxing match. Each round was getting more and more intense. It was no longer insults, it was straight up flirting. You noticed when your bodies were so close you could smell the scent of watermelon chewing gum that escaped from his warm breath. You could hear the way his raced even faster than yours.

You were snapped out of this fantasy by his bodyguard, indicating other fans waited for him.

He remembered the name your friend called out, saying he needed to bring you home before something bad happened.

It was the most beautiful name he had ever heard.

He hung out around that concert hall for the next couple of days. At the bar nearby, at Starbucks, at McDonald’s, anything for the sake of seeing your face again.

And he did.

You were walking out of the record store with a vinyl of Heart squeezed under your arm. You looked so happy. You had paint stains all over your clothes. You were erasing the memories of a terrible relationship by decorating your tiny apartment, and you needed to set the right ambiance. You needed guidance, you found it in the strong minds of the ladies behind Heart, in Joan Jett, in Stevie Nicks. You found your silver lining in music.

Jake ran behind you, he pretended he was out jogging and he mysteriously bumped into you. He grabbed your vinyl before it could fall on the ground.

“Nice pick.”

“We finally agree on something.”

Another round of flirty insults...

... That ended in the two of you fucking like animals on the floor of your apartment.

And fucking on the couch the next day.

On the kitchen counter the morning after.

And finally, on the bed. That was a really special one. Jake was the first person to be on your bed since the departure of your ex. He could feel that you were not in the mood for a rough battle for dominance.

That night, he made love to you.

For, quite possibly, the first time in his life, he expressed his love directly to somebody. “Princess, baby girl, beautiful, gorgeous, amazing”, he showered you in compliments, and praises. The slow movement of his hips, the intense passion in his eyes and love in his heart spoke louder than the music you were playing in the background to set the mood.

You were not just another trophee to hang on the wall. You were special.

He was special too.

He bought you every record that reminded him of you. He bought you collector items of your favourite bands. From the silliest decoration to a new car to replace your crappy one, passing by tickets to exclusive and sold-out shows, Jake had never felt more famous in his life than when he was with you.

His fans noticed the change in his songs, in his lyrics. They were just as explicit, just as rotten and just as corrupted. However, they came from a place of light and love, not of darkness and rage.

He sang about how good your felt when you climaxed around him. How drenched he was whenever he made you squirt. How he loved to taste himnself on your lips. How he was full of love and of lust for you. How he would quit everything if it meant he would live a normal life, for once, and with you.

You inspired so many songs that became massive world-wide hits.

You travelled the world with him on tour. You helped him design his new merch and you wore his t-shirts with pride. You attended concerts in your freetime. You loved staying up all night, painting and drawing while he was writing about this mirage of a goddess, blessing his existence with a smile and a sparkle in her eyes.

He was addicted to you.

He was crazy for you.

And he went crazy on you.

for research purposes and not because i wasted my time hearing eminem talk about stuff i don’t understand so i could stare at jake’s thighs

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mP_cKP4OjsA

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=whV5oQDvVWE

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UGqC9URTJIQ

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5imXD1LPnwo

and finally, for good measure :

@gyll-yee-haw​ ily

[interrogatethecat]

Of Husbands and Murder

word count: 3k

written for the prompt “Noir” for Their Love Was Real

Dean had a great life.

He worked as a mechanic during the day, and he loved his job. Every evening, he came home to his husband. Said husband made some fucking awesome pie. On weekends, he played DnD with his best friend. His brother called him at least once a week from college.

And, of course, he was a serial killer.

Late at night, sometimes Dean would get an itch that he had to scratch. A thirst that couldn’t be quenched. Nothing else did it. The only thing that sated it were the pained screams of whoever he had tied to his chair and the blood that spilled across the warehouse floor. The only thing that truly satisfied him was cleaning up after, seeing the flecks of blood mixed in with his freckles, and the dangerous glint in his eyes.

When he got home and the itch was scratched, he’d crawl back into bed, and in the morning, Cas would be none the wiser that he had ever been gone, and life continued.

Change someone’s oil. Fix the brakes on a Toyota. Come home covered in grease. Take a shower. Steal kisses from his husband. Hang out with Charlie on weekends. Jokingly remind Sam not to go to any keggers. Off someone. Repeat. Such was the life of Dean Winchester.

This time, the itch came in the middle of January.

the rest + tag list below the cut, or on a03 here.

Like most November days, it was blustery and cold. Dean liked it that way. If someone off the streets went missing, well, it would be assumed that they froze to death. Days would pass before the body would be found, marked and warranting a front page headline. Easier for him.

“Boy! You got any spark plugs there?”

“Uh….” Dean glanced around the area where he was working. “Nope. Sorry, Bobby.”

“Balls. We’re out.”

“What do you need them for?” Dean asked, turning back to the engine he was working with. “Someone need theirs replaced?”

Bobby leveled him with a glare from beneath his baseball cap. “No, I wanna turn ‘em into a necklace. Yes, a customer needs them.”

Dean raised his hands in surrender. “Woah. Didn’t know if you were just asking for inventory.”

“Since when do I do inventory? That’s Kevin’s job. He’s got exams, though, so he’s preoccupied at the moment.”

“He didn’t leave a list?”

Bobby huffed. “He did, but I can’t read it.”

Dean straightened up, wiping his hands on a towel. “Here, let me see.”

Bobby raised an eyebrow at him. “You think you can crack it.”

“How hard can it be?” Dean scoffed. “I had to read Sammy’s handwriting for years, I think I can manage Kev’s.”

Bobby grumbled something under his breath, moving towards his office.

Dean watched him disappear behind a large truck. When he was alone, the thirst came back, more persistent than it had been.

Tonight, Dean figured. He’d take care of it tonight. Just a few more hours of his shift, he’d see Cas, then he’d grab someone off the streets and parch his thirst.

Bobby came back and shoved a notebook into Dean’s hands. “Still think you can read it?”

Dean squinted at the— was that even writing? “The hell?”

“Exactly,” Bobby said.

“That’s not writing, it’s chicken scratch,” Dean said, shoving the notebook back at him. “Tell Kevin to type his notes instead.”

The day continued. Dean fixed a set of taillights on a pickup truck, changed the oil on a Honda, had to deal with the broken brakes on a Prius. By the time his shift was over, he was covered head to toe in grease. Just another day on the job.

After toweling the worst of it off, Dean gave Bobby a wave and made his way outside.

Singer’s Auto and Parts consisted of a large, out of the way garage that connected to a small room Bobby used as his office, a large parking lot out back for the cars they were fixing up, and a cracked stretch of asphalt where the employees parked. Not the most glamorous, but then again, neither was Dean.

He ducked into the Impala, the corner of his mouth turning up as her engine rumbled. The sun was beginning to sink below the horizon, painting the sky in vibrant oranges, inky purples, and all the shades in between. Rush hour had just ended, leaving the streets emptying of cars but not deserted. Led Zeppelin blaring, Dean pulled out onto the road, headed for home.

He missed every red light, and within fifteen minutes, was pulling into the driveway and parking the car.

Cas was already inside, curled up on the couch, papers spread out on the coffee table in front of him. He looked up when Dean came in and smiled. “Hello, Dean.”

Dean smiled back. “Hey, Cas. ‘Nother essay?”

Cas shook his head. “Creative writing. Some of them are very good. Actually, I’m rather impressed by a number of them. This one, on the other hand….”

“Well, lemme take a shower, and then I’ll rescue you. Deal?”

“I’ll hold you to that,” Cas said. “Please, hurry.”

Dean mock saluted. “Yes, sir.”

Cas rolled his eyes.

As promised, the shower was quick, and in no time, Dean had shifted Cas’ papers aside and thrown himself down on the couch next to him. He dropped a kiss on the top of Cas’ head and threw an arm around him.

Cas leaned against him, head settling against Dean’s shoulder. “Marie is an excellent student,” he said, “and very creative, but I fail to understand her obsession with robots, ninjas, and ‘subtext.’”

Dean huffed a laugh. “‘Course you don’t.”

Cas looked away from his paper to glare at him.

Dean laughed harder. “It’s cute, Cas.”

The glare didn’t cease. “I don’t want to be cute. I’m not cute.”

“Whatever gets you through the night,” Dean said.

“You're insufferable,” Cas said.

“You love me anyway.”

“Yes.”

Dean grinned. “Love you, too.”

The itch squirmed beneath his skin, in his very bones. It was always better, more under control around Cas, but never gone.

He had to keep the night moving. As much as he loved this time with his husband, the itch was there and needed scratching. He needed to make someone bleed, needed to hurt, to kill. None of which would happen while Cas was still awake.

“So,” Dean said, “how do you feel about takeout for tonight? Because I really don’t wanna cook anything, and it’s kinda late.”

Cas nodded. “Chinese?”

“Sounds good. Want me to order?”

“As long as you don’t ‘forget’ to order stir fry or something else with vegetables.”

Dean groaned as he stood up. “Why the hell would you want vegetables?”

“Because they’re good.”

This time, Dean was the one to roll his eyes. “Fine. You owe me, though.”

Cas smirked triumphantly for the remainder of the night. It was especially wide when Dean actually ate the stir fry.

Not that Dean would ever admit it, but it was actually pretty good. Maybe a little more than pretty good.

By the time he and Cas were in bed, it was nearing ten o’clock. Surprisingly early. Cas seemed to have wanted to get into bed as well, which was unusual. When Dean asked him about it, he just shrugged it off and said, “I’ve been working since five o’clock this morning, I think I deserve a break.”

Dean pressed a gentle kiss to his lips. “Sure thing, angel.”

Something flashed briefly in Cas’ eyes, there and gone too quickly for Dean to dissect.

They crawled into bed, Dean curled protectively around Cas, listening to Cas’ breathing even out. Cas was so peaceful like this. Any other night, Dean would have stayed awake, kept watching him until he drifted off. Taking in every bit of Cas he could. But tonight….

As gently as he could, Dean extracted himself from around Cas, taking care not to disturb him. The bed creaked as he stood up, but there wasn’t any other movement. Good.

He crept through the house quietly, grabbing the keys off the counter, wincing when the door squeaked on his way out.

This time when Dean drove, there was no music. Just him, his car, the road, and the itch, the desire, the need. Clawing its way out from his core, begging for blood and screams. Just one person. That was all he needed. A person and a knife, and it would be dealt with. His knives had been left there. Now, all he needed was a guest.

There was a homeless person, dumpster diving in an alley that Dean saw halfway into the city. He couldn’t have been more than eighteen. His oversized coat was dirty, and his face smudged with grime. He was no one.

Perfect.

The Impala slowed and stopped on the side of the road.

“Need a lift?”

The kid looked up.

“I’ve also got a spare room, if you need it,” Dean added.

The kid’s eyes widened. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Dean said. “Hop on in.”

“How do I know I can trust you?” the kid asked suspiciously.

Dean shrugged. “Just gonna have to.”

“What’s your name?”

“Dean,” Dean said. “You?”

“Alfie,” the kid offered.

“Well, Alfie,” Dean said, putting on his most charming smile, “I’ll ask again: need a lift?”

Alfie got into the car.

The blood pounding in Dean’s ears with need got louder as Alfie slammed the passenger door shut behind him. Giving him no time to react, Dean seized the back of his head and slammed it against the dashboard. There was a satisfying thunk, and the kid’s eyes unfocused before he passed out.

Dean hit the gas.

________________

The warehouse was on the far edge of the city, far enough out that Dean wasn’t even sure it was a part of the city.

The building was rusting and dirty and old and abandoned. A little cliché, but since when had that hurt anyone?

Dean parked the Impala behind the warehouse, then ducked outside the car. He popped open the trunk. Shuffling aside some reusable bags, Dean found his buried stash of zip ties. Pocketing a few, he slammed the trunk shut, then went around to the passenger side door.

Alfie was still out cold. He didn’t even stir when Dean picked him up bridal style and carried him into the warehouse. Didn’t move when Dean used the zip ties to tie him to a chair, or grabbed some duct tape off a bench and covered his mouth.

He probably had at least ten minutes until he would come to. Ten minutes to kill. Ten minutes to decide what he wanted to do tonight to make him scream.

Dean kept his knives by a workbench in the far corner of the main room. To the best of his knowledge, it was your standard serial killer set-up; a wide array of weapons of varying sizes, shapes, and sharpness. Above them he had hung newspaper clippings, each with a headline pertaining to him.

Body Discovered Bearing Demonic Symbol

New Body Found, Not the Work of Angel Killer

Cult in Sioux Falls?

One Wasn’t Enough: Two Serial Killers in Sioux Falls?

Serial Killer on the Loose

Sioux Falls Murderer Dubbed “Demon Killer”

Demon Kills Again

Demon and Angel Killers Strike Again

Another Body Found With Demon Mark

Two Bodies Found In One Night

Trail of Bodies Leads Nowhere

Heaven and Hell Working Together?

Theories About Angel and Demon Killers Run Rampant

Some of the most recent articles made Dean the most curious. No longer was he the only person in Sioux Falls with the extra curricular activity murder. And this someone, dubbed the Angel Killer because of their tendency to spray paint coronas over the heads of their victims, had been around since before Dean moved there. Then Dean had started offing people. There was no connection between the two of them. And then, for whatever reason, this Angel Killer had started killing on the same nights as Dean. Why was that? Accidents didn’t happen accidentally. There was something there, more to it that coincidence, Dean was sure. But what?

Alfie groaned, the sound muffled slightly by the tape.

Dean grabbed a blade off the table, then turned to look at Alfie. “Good, You’re awake.”

Alfie was still out of it, struggling to make sense of the situation. His eyes widened when he saw the knife Dean was twirling in one hand.

This knife, in particular, was one of Dean’s favorites. It had a sturdy handle, and an even hardier blade. Part of it was sharp, smooth enough to slice skin with so much of a brush, while the other part of it was serrated like the jaws of some creature, perfect for ripping and tearing away chunks of flesh. Elegant and savage, all at once.

Dean smiled at the kid dangerously. “Glad you’re up. Would’ve had to go on without you if you hadn’t woken up in the next few minutes. After this, I’ve gotta get home. Work tomorrow. Husband to get back to.”

Alfie tried to shout something.

“Not gonna work, buddy. You’re not the first one to try.” He took a few steps closer, then used the tip of the blade to force up Alfie’s chin. “So,” Dean said, “ready to have some fun?”

There was a strangled sob as Dean lightly dragged the tip of the knife down Alfie’s throat, stopping when he reached his clavicle. With a swift motion, he sliced open the front of the kid’s jacket and shirt, exposing the upper part of his chest. It rose and fell rapidly, nothing like the calm inhales and exhales of Cas falling asleep. While that made something inside him flare warmly, this— the raw, unfiltered panic— filled him with satisfaction.

Dean smiled as he made his first incisions into the kid, felt more and more alive with each scream. Happily watched the blood drip to the floor, pool around the chair as he carved. This wasn’t his most precise work, but he only had a little while before he had to be back in bed. It didn’t matter that it was sloppy; it did the job.

Only after his chest and face had been completely mangled did Dean roll up the kid’s sleeve. With steady hands, he carved his signature into Alfie’s forearm, a seven-like shape that dug into the flesh. Dean took pleasure in the kid's heaving chest, reveled in knowing that his lungs weren’t getting enough air.

“Thanks, kid.” Dean grinned at him as he made the final line of the design, then drove the knife into his chest.

Alfie gargled wetly, then—

Nothing.

His body sagged in the chair, bound and bloody and lifeless.

The itch was gone.

Dean admired his work for a few moments, then pivoted to grab a cloth from his workbench to clean the blood off his knife. As he was wiping it down, there was a voice from behind him.

“So you’re the Demon Killer.”

Dean froze. He knew that voice.

“I always wondered what you did when you disappeared,” Cas said.

Dean turned around.

Cas was standing on the other side of the chair. He looked incredibly out of place amongst the carnage; he was still wearing his ridiculous bee pajamas, only with his trench coat thrown over them. His attention was turned to Alfie’s corpse. “You know what you’re doing,” Cas noted, as though this was a perfectly normal conversation. “It’s quite impressive. I should have expected as much, given your skills in the kitchen.”

“What are you doing here?” Dean demanded.

Cas finally looked at him, his expression one of interest. “I thought I said that. I wanted to know what you did when you left at night,” he said simply. “This isn’t what I expected, but… you always are full of surprises.”

“Why now?”

“Curiosity finally got the better of me. I figured I could hold off on my plans for a few weeks longer.”

The gears in Dean’s head started turning. “Your… plans?” Dean said slowly.

Cas nodded. His eyes flickered behind Dean, to the newspaper articles.

Dean shook his head as he connected the dots. “No way,” he said. “Absolutely not. You’re not— you can’t be—“

“The so-called ‘Angel Killer?’” Cas asked.

If Dean hadn’t been struggling to process, he would have rolled his eyes at Cas’ finger quotes.

“Yes,” Cas said matter-of-factly. “I believe that’s what they call me.”

“No,” Dean said insistently. “You— there’s no way you’re a serial killer!”

“What makes you think that?” Cas seemed genuinely curious.

“You're an English teacher!”

Cas fixed him with a look. “You’re a mechanic.”

Dean stared at him incredulously. “This is not happening.”

“I can assure you it is,” Cas said.

“Prove it,” Dean said.

Cas’ eyes glinted at the challenge. In a few strides, he was in Dean’s space, pressing their lips together.

Oh. Shit.

This was definitely happening.

When they broke apart, there was some blood smeared on Cas’ face. A smile was beginning to form, his mouth quirking upwards. “Was that enough proof?”

Dean nodded. He reached out and tried to wipe off some of the blood that had gotten on Cas’ face with his thumb, only succeeding in streaking it more.

They stood there for a few moments silently.

At last, Dean spoke.

“Cas,” he said, licking his lips, “you’re even more of a badass than I thought you were.”

“I know,” Cas said. “The same goes for you.”

“How long?”

Cas didn’t need him to specify. He considered it for a few seconds. “Years. Just a few before I met you.”

Dean nodded. “Yeah. Uh, I started not long before I came to Sioux Falls, but….”

They fell quiet again.

“I’m sensing awkwardness,” Cas said.

That was so incredibly Cas that Dean had to laugh, the tension broken. “Keen observation, Sherlock.” And then, as though he’d said it a hundred times, “Help me with the body?”

Cas’ smile widened. “I thought you’d never ask.”

One body-disposal and a drive home later, Dean was laying in bed, curled around Cas. He smiled into the back of Cas’ neck. Yeah. He had a great life.

He worked as a mechanic during the day, and he loved his job. On weekends, he played DnD with his best friend. His brother called him at least once a week from college.

Every day, he came home to his husband. Said husband made some fucking awesome pie.

And, of course, he was a serial killer.

tag list: @theirlovewasreal @holmesemrys @fanfic-corner @lovingherwasgay @destiel-is-canon-i-guess @top13zepptraxx @i-do-know-and-idc

let me know if you want to be added or removed!

[fangirl-writes]

Enough

Young!Roger Taylor x Reader

Queen is my latest obsession

Warning(s): Domestic fight, violence (Roger punches a wall), swearing. Angst. I used a gay slur in there once (f*ggot). It’s not an important part of the story, but a warning anyhow because I know some people aren’t comfortable with the word.

Notes: Angsty stuff here people. I hope I pulled on those heartstrings, but I added a happy ending so all’s well. Also I have no idea how record players work but I wish I did. Also I don’t think cheating is ever okay, but we all know Roger did it and I wanted to try something a little eloquent and angsty.

Summary: You and Roger get into a fight because you want to know why you aren't enough.

Roger threw his keys onto the table. “You’re being ridiculous, Y/N!”

“I am not! Roger why won’t you just give me an answer!”

“Because I shouldn’t have to! We’ve had this conversation before I don’t know why you’re getting so upset about this!”

“And I don’t know why you won’t just answer me!”

“I’ve already told you-”

“You haven’t told me anything!”

“I’ve told you enough!”

“Which isn’t anything!”

“Why the hell does this matter so fucking much to you!”

“Because I want to know, Roger!”

“It shouldn’t matter!”

“But it does matter!”

“Just to you!”

“Yeah because you won’t fucking tell me anything!”

Roger turned with an angry shout, flinging his fist into the wall behind him. The sound as the drywall cracked made you scream and Roger turned to you, hand still curled into a now bloody fist, the action not lessening his anger.

The silence that filled the air was suffocating as you stood there staring in horror at the look on his face, the blood coating his knuckles, and the gaping hole that was now in the wall behind him.

Roger walked passed you towards the door and gave it an angry slam on his way out.

You broke down, dropping to the floor and sobbing. You were still angry, still hurt, and still scared.

After about an hour had passed you finally got the strength to get off the floor and make your way to the phone.

You dialed the number that you knew by heart and waited as it rang in the otherwise quiet house.

“Hello?”

“Brian?”

“Y/N?” He said, hearing the heartbreak in your voice. “What’s wrong? Has something happened? Did Roger-”

“We had a fight. He walked out and hasn’t been back for a while and I’m starting to worry about him.”

“You’ve had a fight and you’re worried about him?”

You sniffed, wiping at your wet cheeks.

“God, Y/N, he doesn’t deserve you.”

“Would- would you just find him? I-I don’t think he wants to see me but he punched the wall before he left and his hand was all bloody-”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, love. It’s not your fault he blew a gasket, okay?”

You nodded, even though he couldn’t see you, and felt even more tears falling down your cheeks.

“Y/N?”

You hummed in response, your throat tight.

“We’ll bring him home.”

That was the last thing he said before hanging up and you choked out another sob, letting the phone drop from your hand and swing from the cord as you found yourself on the floor again, back against the wall as you sobbed into your knees.

Thinking back on it now, it had been your fault the fight had happened.

It had been about Roger’s endless groupies you knew he fucked every time he was on tour.

You’d talked about it back when you first started dating and you’d told him you were okay with it. You’d talked about it with your friends and family who’d been concerned about it and you’d told them you were fine with it. The other Queen members had asked you about it, offering to watch him for you while on tour, but you’d told them it didn’t bother you.

Hell, eventually you’d convinced yourself you were fine with it.

It was fine. I’m fine. What he does when I’m not around is fine because at the end of the day he always comes home to me. I’m fine. I’m fine. I’m fine.

Then why. Why. Why did it take that stupid tabloid article to finally make you realize that you weren’t.

You don’t even know what compelled you to pick up the magazine. Usually you avoided picking up anything that even remotely mentioned the boys because you knew most of it would be slander. Calling Freddie a faggot or Roger a slut or John an absent husband. You hated those articles.

So then why? You asked yourself again. Why did you pick up that stupid tabloid?

Maybe it was because it was one of the few that mentioned you on the cover? Maybe it was because you were bored and wanted something to flip through? You didn’t remember and it didn’t matter now because the moment your eyes landed on that article it was over. And, at the moment, it felt like your stupidest decision.

Roger Taylor, Queen’s Sex Machine, Back At It Again.

After deciding his current girlfriend, Y/N L/N, wasn’t enough for the famous rock star, Roger Taylor was seen acting more than friendly with various groupies during his last tour. Our sources were not able to find a reaction from Y/N, making us suspect that she either doesn’t know about his sexual escapades, ignores them, or doesn’t care. How long will their relationship last if Y/N can’t fulfill Roger’s sexual needs? And how long will it take Roger to come to the conclusion he’s had enough of her?

Enough.

That was the word that kept playing back for you in your head. ‘Deciding his current girlfriend wasn’t enough’, ‘come to the conclusion he’s had enough.’

Why weren’t you enough?

You didn’t know how long you sat there, no tears left to cry and a whole in your heart. You felt numb. Whatever anger or sadness you’d been holding onto before was gone and replaced with an ache in your chest that wouldn’t go away.

It took a knock at the door to finally let all the emotions come flooding back to you.

Was that Brian? What if he didn’t find Roger? What if he did? Were you ready to face him again? Would he still be mad? Of course he’d still be mad. What would you say? Would you apologize? No, you don’t have anything to apologize for. Then what? If he was still mad, he certainly wasn’t going to apologize, that much you knew. What if he did apologize? ‘I’m sorry I caused you the worry, I’ll change how I live my life because you want me to’? No, that’s not what you wanted, you didn’t want him to change because of your outburst. What if he broke up with you? What if he kicked you out? You didn’t think you could stand going back to your family or friends and their pitying looks and ‘I told you so’s. ‘That’s what you get for dating a rock star’ they’d say. He finally decided you weren’t enough. Enough. Enough. Enough.

The knocking came again, this time harder and more persistent.

You rose from your spot on the floor and made your way to the door, every scenario going through your head as the knocking repeated.

“Y/N, darling, if you don’t open this door right now I’m going to break it down.”

You couldn’t help the small smile that made it’s way to your lips as you turned the knob and opened the door.

“I’d like to see you try, Freddie,”

Freddie Mercury stood on the other side of the door, a sad smile making its way to his lips.

“Brian told me what happened.”

The smile you tried to keep on fell at his words and soon you were in tears again, wrapped in Freddie’s arms.

“Oh, darling, oh, it’s okay, it’s okay.” He soothed, stroking your hair as you cried into his shoulder. “I saw that stupid article. I thought something like this might happen.”

You weren’t sure whether his words made you feel better or worse.

He brought you into the living room and sat you down on the couch, wrapping you in a blanket before leaving your side to approach the record player sitting on a shelf near by.

You and Roger spent many hours listening to Jimi Hendrix or The Beatles, sometimes even Led Zeppelin if you could talk him into it. He even danced with you to ‘Since I've Been Loving You’ on your anniversary.

You smiled as he flipped through the albums before deciding on one of their own: A Night At The Opera. The one that, arguably, put them on the map.

You closed your eyes as ‘Death on Two Legs’ started playing softly. It wasn’t their most relaxing song, but their music had a way of calming you down. Freddie knew this after seeing you in the studio with them multiple times, absolutely relaxed in the creative environment.

He occupied the seat next to you again, pulling you to his chest as an offer to snuggle into him.

You accepted the offer and smiled softly as you listened to the angry and bitter song. You remembered them telling you it was based on their nasty former manager, Norman Sheffield.

“His loss,” You’d told them back then. “He’ll be forever known as the man who lost Queen.”

“That’s exactly what I said!” Freddie had exclaimed. “It was like a movie scene! You should’ve been there, Y/N. It was a perfect exit.”

“Yeah and then we threw a brick through his window.” Roger added with a smug grin.

“Not our brightest idea.” Brian said.

“Never said any of you were the smartest lot.”

They’d shoved you around for that comment with laughter and good natured retorts.

The memory made you smile, the bad thoughts from before being driven away from your head as you remembered and snuggled against your favorite piano player as his voice drifted through the air.

You wondered if the song would’ve made you angrier if you didn’t know what it was really about and didn’t have the memory attached to it. You supposed it would have but you could only giggle at the lyrics now. It was bitter and mean, as Freddie once called it, but it was a great song.

‘Lazing On A Sunday Afternoon’ came next and you released a breath at the softer tone. The song reminding you of Alice in Wonderland and Singing in the Rain, films that you had watched as a kid. It was a short song, but it did wonders for your mood with its playful and happy tune.

It wasn’t until ‘I’m In Love With My Car’ came on that you realized he’d put the record on the B-Side.

You sat up from Freddie, a frown on your face, mood brought down again. 

“Change it.” You commanded.

“Sorry, dear, too comfortable here.” He replied, a smirk on his face.

You bit your lip, near to tears again, as Roger’s song played along in the background. The song he’d fought himself into a cupboard for and that you relentlessly teased him about.

“Freddie, please, I-I don’t-”

A knock interrupted your sentence and Freddie practically launched himself over the couch to get it.

The limber bastard.

You followed him reluctantly, knowing who would be on the other side of that door. The man singing a song about his car.

Freddie pulled open the door to John Deacon who was stood with a frown on his face that disappeared into concern as he noticed you enter the room.

He moved to hug you, which you happily accepted. Hugging Freddie and Deacy was a comforting feeling that you desperately needed.

“Why’s this song playing?” He wondered aloud, more confused than anything.

The comment made you laugh.

“Y/N.”

You pulled away from John to face Brian who was giving you a similar look. It wasn’t pity, but rather a sort of concern. It warmed your heart to think that they cared for you so much.

Were you enough in their eyes?

“We found him walking. Had to take him to the hospital for his hand, but-”

“Is he still angry?”

“No.” Brian said, catching you by surprise. “I don’t think he’s been angry for a while.”

Your eyes swelled with tears as Brian motioned for Roger to come inside.

If you were in a better mood, you would have laughed. Roger Taylor waiting for permission to go inside his own home.

He walked passed Brian, avoiding everyone’s eyes and staring at his shoes.

The song changed to ‘You’re My Best Friend’ but nobody paid any attention to the music.

Freddie had an annoyed expression on his face and opened his mouth to say something until Deacy put a hand on his shoulder and shook his head. Silently telling him it wasn’t appropriate and that they’d lectured him enough for one night.

“Happy at Home” the song chimed, normally earning a snarky comment from Roger, but it seemed he wasn’t listening or at least not caring about the line for once.

“Come on, boys, I think we better leave these two alone.” Brian spoke up after a minute of silence. “Fred, I’ll take you home.”

Freddie seemed reluctant to leave. Whether that was because he was concerned or because he wanted to witness the drama of it all was unknown, but he followed the other two band members out the door.

You stood in silence for another minute as the song in the background faded into 39. A song you loved.

It seemed to be the kick Roger needed to finally look up at you with his gorgeous blue eyes.

“Hi,” He said.

“Hi...” You replied.

“I’m sor-”

“No.” You shook your head. “No, Roger, please don’t apologize, I don’t want an apology for something I started. No, Rog, all I want is an answer.”

“An answer for what?”

You blinked back tears as you asked the dreaded question again. “Why aren’t I enough?”

Enough. Enough. Enough.

Roger’s eyes swelled up with his own tears and he shook his head with a small laugh.

“Ridiculous, really. You’ve always been enough, Y/N. Always.”

“Then why?” You said, tears streaming freely down your cheeks again. You felt like you’d cried an ocean. “Why sleep with all those groupies on tour? Am I not pleasing you enough? Is that it?”

“No!” Roger exclaimed. “God no, it’s perfect! You’re perfect.”

“Then why?” you asked again, voice raising before dropping to a murmur as you hung your head. “Why?”

Roger took your face in his hands. “Please, don’t cry, love.”

You shook your head, palms digging into your eyes to try to get rid of the tears.

He hugged you to his chest and you felt your heart ache once again because, as mad as you were at him, you longed for his comfort.

“I think I do it because- fuck it, I know I do it because I’m afraid.” He said.

You sniffed. Afraid? Afraid of what?

“I’m afraid that one day you’ll you realize what a twat I am and I’ll come home and you won’t be there. I do it because I’m afraid of getting attached to you, even though I know I already have, because what if you leave me one day? What if you decide that I’m not enough for you?”

You looked up at him. “You're afraid of that?”

Roger feigned laughter, not meeting your gaze. “Yeah, the bloody rock star has feelings. Ha ha.”

“No.” You pull his gaze to you again, feeling about a thousand emotions at once. “Roger, I’ve spent the entire day wondering why I wasn’t enough for you and you’re here telling me that you did all this shit because you think you’re not enough for me? Me?”

You took a deep breath, trying not to cry again.

“I love you, Roger Taylor. And you will always be more than enough for me. No matter how many groupies you sleep with or how many times you hurt me or whatever the fuck those fucking magazines say about you because I love you more than I hate you and sometimes I really fucking hate you.”

Roger smiled sadly at you. “I love you more, Y/N L/N, and I don’t deserve you, not at all. You have always been enough for me and I promise that I will try harder to show you that instead of being the dickhead that keeps breaking your heart.”

You sniffed, burying your face in his chest again.

“Always.” He whispered into the top of your head. “You are always gonna be enough for me.”

“Write your letters in the sand for the day I take your hand. In the land that our grandchildren knew.”

You snuggled into Roger’s chest as ‘39 came to a close, his hand squeezing yours in a sort of reassurance that he wasn’t going anywhere again.

“All your letters in the sand cannot heal me like your hand. For my life. Still ahead. Pity me.”

“I love you,”

It was a whisper, barely above his breath but you heard it and you savored the sound of his confession in the sudden silence.

Roger pulled away from you, much to your displeasure and confusion and walked into the living room, making a beeline for the record player. You followed him, hoping not to look too much like a lost puppy.

He flipped the record and adjusted the needle.

He held out his hand as ‘Love of My Life’ started playing.

You’d have cried if you had any tears left.

You took it and he pulled you into a sloppy sort of waltz that made you laugh. The boy could sing, but when it came to dancing he was no John Deacon. You leaned your head on his chest, taking in his scent (cigarette smoke, scotch, and the smell of his lingering cologne).

“I really am sorry. For everything. I’m a terrible boyfriend.”

“I know. And I’m not going to forgive you, not for a while, maybe not ever, but we can move past it. Just hold me, yeah?”

And he did. He held you for as long as he could.

[early20sfailingplenty]

Uhm I like rock music, mainly classic rock like AC/DC, Guns n Roses, Def Leppard that type of thing. I’m a texture eater but I get called ‘fussy’ but just some I can’t do so I tend to live off pasta and sandwiches most days. I’m a horror fantatic, I love the old classics like scream or nightmare on elm street. Uhm I have an outgrown ombré that I need done but can’t due to lockdown 😂 Im plus size and trying to get round to loving my body even though I can’t stand it.. uhm.. oh I like reading and have an obsession with candles and wax melts. ~ @tatestripedsweater​

Aaaaaaaaa ✨✨✨✨ I’m so excited to get to write this for you, Shannon, and I really hope that you enjoy this! It’s been a while since I wrote solidly for James (on my main blog, @ajokeformur-ray​) so hopefully this portrayal isn’t too rusty!💜🌸

James March

Word count: 861.

Let me get one thing clear from the get go: you and James are perfect for each other! You have a very similar vibe to the one which James has and you would be at home within the Hotel Cortez in no time. No harm would ever befall you - “even a hair harmed on your pretty little head will see the assailant lumbered with the addiction demon, my dear,” as he once told you. You have no doubt that if he needed to, that he would make good on his promise, and you only hope for the others’ sake that they never try to test James. He does not mess around when it comes to you! Jazz and rock music are like chalk and cheese and initially was James very dismissive of your taste in music, “it’s just... noise,” he once bitterly complained to you. He can’t deny, try as he might, that you really do love classic rock, and over the months and years in which the two of you are together does James learn how to appreciate the different melodies and the poetic lyrics. Songs like Stairway to Heaven by Led Zeppelin hold a special place in his heart, for reasons he himself doesn’t fully understand. It’s no Benny Goodman, but James can admit that it’s palatable to his ears. 

James never calls you fussy. He pays extremely close attention to the textures you like, the textures you love, the textures you can tolerate but aren’t fond of, the ones you dislike, the ones which make you gag... James catalogues every reaction and he makes sure that Hazel over ever serves you up food which you’ll actually eat and enjoy - what’s the point of eating if you’re not going to enjoy it? So most days that may be pasta and sandwiches, but James is just happy to see you eating! He’s very protective of you and there’s nothing which he wouldn’t do for you. Luckily, Hazel is really fond of you and many a time have the two of you had a conversation about her son and other sensitive topics, so she always serves you food with a proud smile on her face. For once, for once, she and her hard work are seen and appreciated and she has sworn to herself that if James ever hurts you, she’ll turn him in all over again. You and Hazel stan each other and you’ve got each other’s backs every step of the way!

Plenty of horrible things, made from the stuff of nightmares, go down in the hotel so James doesn’t fully understand why you love horror so much. Why bother watching a clearly fake throat get slashed with blood which isn’t even the right shade of red and splatters wrong, when you can shadow him all day and experience the real thing for yourself? Modern life confuses James but he won’t deny you the things you enjoy. The old classics are your favourite and James puts in a special word with Liz so that the hotel has a miniature cinema in which you can watch your horrors on the big screen! You’re a queen, after all, and he’ll treat you as such no matter what you say! Please just hug him omg he’s desperate for affection. James loves you - every single part of you is cherished! You are a goddess, a queen, but more than that, you are his goddess. You are his Queen. Daily does James lay worship at your altar and on days when you feel especially loathing of yourself and of your body, James is there with solemn vows of love and adoration. “You are a heavenly creature, Shannon. I am in awe of your beauty.” James doesn’t just say pretty words - he shows you, too, in whichever way you’re most comfortable with! It’s not uncommon for him to buy you an entirely new outfit (with the help of Elizabeth, who sees how deeply you love James and can’t help but appreciate you a bit more for it) just so that he can show you off! And if it helps you to feel a bit more confident, then that’s a bonus! Anything for his Queen...

You like to read and James likes to watch you read. The story plays out before him on your face. When you’ve done something which James feels you should be praised for (literally anything you could do), then you may well find that he’s bought you a new stack of books. They’re never wrapped or signed but you know that they’re from James because they’re always super expensive copies. You would have been happy with a simple paperback but James gets you a gold or silver embellished cover with painted pages and pictures. You also have an obsession with candles and wax melts and, again, James uses his outside connections to make sure that you can have those things. He loves you deeply and he makes sure that you know that at every available turn! He treats you like a Queen and you treat him like a King, because he deserves every ounce of it and more.