#he'd be so fucking pissed because their cigarettes are shit and people on RED are a little rough around the edges

[cleaner-in-grey]

The young German Spy made his way out of bed and then decided to have a nice little look around the base to see what he was dealing with. He was on the BLU team as far as he knew and he wasn't yet retired.

He lights up his first cigarette of the day, taking a drag and exhaling with a smile on his face. BLU really pulled through to get their spies some really good shit, fancier than RED's.

"Those poor little bastards,"he cooed to himself in German, chuckling, "Can't get good quality from those who don't know quality. Bunch of classless hicks."

[thefatedthoughtofyou]

Soft Rockstar Eddie and Popstar Steve

It's about rockstar Eddie and popstar Steve. Someone made a post about them going out like once and then Steve writing the song, Not Another Rock Star by maisie peters (It's catchy and doesn't quite fit Eddie's description but it doesn't matter shh shh shh) and my brain supplied me with soft rockstar Eddie being upset because popstar Steve wrote kind of a shitty song about him after one date and not giving him a chance. Like... Steve doesn't even KNOW him.

And they see each other again at some after party and Eddie just avoids him. He stares at Steve though, until Steve looks at him and then he looks away right before Steve looks. And then Eddie goes out for a smoke and Steve follows him to ask what the fuck is going on?? Like what's his problem?? And Eddie is leaning against the building in a shadow. And Steve is like,

"hey." suddenly feeling very self-conscious. And Eddie just looks at him slowly, takes a drag and blows smoke towards Steve. Doesn't say anything. And Steve's about to say something but Eddie cuts him off, says,

"some song." Cuz the song fucking blew up and everyone KNOWS it's about Eddie cuz there were pics of them on the date. And Steve's like,

"... thanks?" Sounds kinda dismissive. Cuz popstar Steve is still a little bit of an asshole. And Eddie fucking scoffs and takes a step forward, still in the shadows up to his waist.

"Yeah no problem. Glad I could inspire you." and his voice is dripping venom and he takes another drag, the end of the cigarette glowing red in the dark. And Steve crosses his arms all dismissive and he's like,

"Wait... are you mad? Is that why you've been glaring at me all night?" And he scoffs now. And Eddie scoffs right back and says,

"Mad? Why would I be mad? I love when people write out of context songs about me and all their little fucking brainwashed fans come swarming all over social media to come at me with shit they know nothing about. What's to be mad about?" He takes another drag and flicks his cigarette butt away. Takes another step forward, Steve can see his shoulders now.  But not his face.

But he is feeling a little guilty. He didn't think. Just went home after the date and wrote it out  and then bam. It was everywhere. Steve just stares at him. Not sure what to say. And Eddie is just like,

"nothin to say?" And steve says,

"what do you want me to say?" And Eddie laughs, and says,

"Ya know, I think you've said enough actually. Maybe you should just go home and write another song about someone you don't know." and he steps into the light and Steve swears his eyes are shining, they're a little too bright for how dark it is out here, takes a step forward. Eddie flinches back the smallest amount. Shoves his hands in his pockets and looks away. And then he says,

"look im gonna go. Alright? Just.... see ya around I guess." And he tries to walk by but Steve grabs his arm and says,

"Look I'm" but Eddie cuts him off, rounds on him and says,

"You're sorry? Are you?" And Eddie looks at Steve, gets in his space. And Steve just fucking shrugs. And Eddie laughs again, humorless. And yanks his arm away from Steve's grip and says,

"You're not sorry. You're just pissed that I called you out."  and Steve's a little speechless, cuz that's true. But he's not used to being talked to like this, so he has no idea what to fucking say.

So Eddie just keeps talking. Cuz it's been like a month and that goddamn song has been everywhere and he's so goddamn tired of people and he can't even use any of his social media right now cuz Steve's crazy popstar fans are always in his shit and he just wanted to spend a nice night with Steve, he'd thought the date had gone okay... until the end. But then the song came out. So eddie just lets it all out.

He rants about how it was fucking rude. And goddamn irresponsible. And Steve jumps in and is like,

"Oh like you've never written a song about anyone before!?" And Eddie shoots back,

"I write about fucking dragons and quests and magic and shit man! What are you talking about?? And if i WAS gonna write about someone, that's not how I would do it! You don't just- I mean I wasn't- I thought we had fun? You could have just said you didn't wanna go out again! That you didn't like me! I would have understood!" And he's pacing now, and Steve just keeps shrinking in on  himself cuz he's realizing he really hurt Eddie.

And Eddie just keeps talking and Steve catches things about "back at school" and "thought I was done with shit like this." And the worst one "i just wanted to make music" and then he's looking at Steve, his eyes shining and he's breathing heavy and Steve is also breathing a little heavy and he's like,

"what... what do you want me to do?" All quiet and unsure. And eddie just sighs, losing all his fire, and says,

"just.... next time you get the urge to write a song about me... don't. And I'll return the favor." and he turns to leave. He's almost too far away when Steve realizes what Eddie said. He catches him just before he gets to the door back inside, both of them in the shadows now and Steve breathes out,

"did you write a song about me?" And his heart is pounding as looks at Eddie. And Eddie won't meet his eyes.

Steve can't fucking breathe. It was one date. And it's dark but he swears Eddie is bright red. And he can't not ask again. So he does.

"Eddie. Did you write a song about me?" His hand is still on Eddie's arm. Eddie shakes his head. Once. And says,

"Not like yours. It's not- I didn't finish it. It doesn't matter." And he finally looks up at Steve, looks him right in the eyes and says,

"Just forget about it." his voice low and shakey. And then he's tugging the heavy door open. Steve's not sure if he hears him say "I'm sorry" or not. But he hopes so.

~°~

Eddie did write a song about him. Part of one. He was in the middle of writing his first ever ballad when Gareth came into the studio looking glum and was like,

"Dude. I think you should hear this." and he played him Steve's new song and Eddie just sort of, gave up. Threw his pen and notebook across the room. Almost smashed his writing guitar but Gareth grabbed him and stopped him. And Eddie definitely cried. And Gareth definitely held him while Eddie sobbed out,

"I thought he liked me. I'm so stupid." and needless to say, Gareth holds a grudge against Steve for a very long time. Even steps in front of Eddie when Steve tries to talk to him at the next place they see each other. Steve takes the hint and backs off.

He also tries to call Eddie. And message him on all sorts of apps. He gets no response. And his song is still going crazy. So he does something no artist has ever done. He goes on the radio, and asks them to stop playing his song. Asks his fans to stop streaming it. And takes it down from all the places he has control of it. The song drops down the charts in record time. And Steve finally stops hearing it everywhere. And then, about a week later, he gets a text from Eddie.

It's an audio file. Steve takes a deep breath, presses play, and hears the most beautiful fucking song he's ever heard. It's just Eddie and his guitar. Clearly not a finished product, just... raw, and open, and just for Steve. And it's beautiful and Steve's never heard him sing so softly. He listens to it four times, it makes him cry everytime. And then he picks up his phone and hits the little phone symbol next to Eddie's name. His heart beating wildly as he listens to it ring. And ring.

And then eddie answers.

[cherry-ber]

Too drunk to fuck (pt 1)

A. N: so I originally wrote this as a very soft thing, while I myself was kinda tipsy and emo so I figured it was only fair to re-write this with a vibe that fitted the song that inspired it in the first place. I really hope this doesn't turn out shitty.

Anyway as if it needed to be stated, I have a soft spot for Mark but bad boy/ fuckboy / kinda punk - ish Mark??? Yes please.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Everybody seemed to know something about Mark Lee that you didn't understand. You've heard countless rumors about him, how he is agressive and how he's even been in jail a hundred times, how he got expelled from 20 different schools, how he got in a physical fight with a police officer, but after the first time you bumped into him you knew it was absolute bullshit.

The events of that damned day replayed on your head every single night since it first happened a month ago, and you felt like the dumbest girl ever for falling for him, and it was probably true.

That Tuesday morning, you were running late after ditching your alarm five times, arriving to your classroom barely on time, you ran into him, making him drop his phone and his helmet.

“Oh shit, man, I'm sorry” you said quietly, he could barely hear you, and went inside.

You should have known better, because you pissed him off, and you've heard, the guy was scary when he was pissed off.

So, after what seemed the most boring class ever, as you were putting your books in your backpack, he entered the classroom and went directly to your table, staring at you as if he was trying to look intimidating. Everyone noticed, except you.

“Can I help you?” you started almost annoyed, but when you turned to face him, you felt almost afraid “ah, it's you. Listen man, I'm very sorry and I should've apologized better but I was running late-”

He abruptly interrupted you with the cockiest thing you've ever heard, even from a jerk like him:

“I don't care, you should respect me better”

As much of an idiot you've heard he was, you never spoke to him, so hearing him speak to you like that ignited the flame of your very short temper.

“Fucking pardon? Who do you think you are?”

And it seemed like the first someone spoke to him like that, he looked almost amazed and for a whole minute he was speechless and his bad boy attitude wrecked.

“Fuck off” he said and stormed out, leaving you with everybody staring at you in disbelief, but to you, calling him out was just common sense, and you didn't even say anything mean at all.

And as if that first encounter wasn't bad enough, after school, he waited at the exit, and when he spotted you, he walked in your direction and stood in front of you, keeping you from walking away.

“We should go out someday”

And you did. Many days, actually. He would wait outside for you, say hey and walk you to the parking lot, you'd ride his motorcycle and stop in an old abandoned house, you'd go behind it and make out there for an hour or two. At first it was almost exciting, knowing what people thought of him, yet you felt like he was wrapped around your finger every day for some hours at least. But as expected, it escalated quickly. For a whole week and a half, you kept telling yourself that you were strong, that you didn't want to get involved with him, you were just helping him out to release his damn hormones, and that was it. But the day he grinned at you when he saw you walking towards him, you knew you were fucked; up to that point, you thought that Mark Lee was just a hormonal jerk, that built a bad boy image based on nothing but his arrogance and his feeling of being superior, you actually disliked him, but not enough to leave him, because he was almost a good kisser, and his hair was soft when you ran your fingers through it, and fucking damn him, he was actually kinda hot. That was the same day he accidentally grabbed your hand when you were walking to his motorcycle. You always walked close, but never really said a word to each other, and when you did, it was meaningless, maybe him saying you looked nice, maybe you saying you liked his jacket or a cold how was your day when he looked stressed, knowing he wouldn't reply until you were kissing and he was being rough, biting your lips or holding your hands so you don't touch him, he was just like that.

He made it look like an accident, he was lightning a cigarette, and as he was blowing out the smoke, you walking slightly behind him, he reached for your hand, but you immediately panicked and stop, so he just pulled you closer, annoyed by your response, as if he was expecting you to squeeze his hand and walk like any other couple would.

“C'mon, we don't have time for that” he said, dismissing what just happened, brushing away the fact that he liked the heat he felt when he touched you. You were hesitant to grab onto him while he was driving, but he always went so fast it was impossible not to do it.

When you arrived to your secret place, as he was taking off his helmet, and you the one he started carrying just for you, you couldn't help but feel nervous, and you were disgusted with the idea of him being the reason, but you followed him anyway, knowing that even if you didn't want to be there, you would never tell him, you were weak for him, but why would you?

He sat on the ground, and as always, you followed him, sitting on his lap, and you couldn't help but stare at his eyes, his beautiful, shiny eyes, and then his marvelous lips. He probably realized, and you looked away almost blushing, but that only made him giggle. It was the first time you ever heard him giggle, and it was angelic, you couldn’t help but smile. He put your hair behind your ear, and caressed your cheek slowly, as his lips were getting closer to yours, and when he finally kissed you, it felt like electricity running through your body. You caught feelings for Mark.

When he pulled away, you were petrified, you felt scared, but you knew better than showing him how he made you feel, so you kissed him, passionately, not giving him a chance to think, you didn't want to leave a single second where he could talk. As it often occurred, his hands were on your waist, moving through your body, from your thighs, to your chest, stopping for a moment on your neck, you pulling the collar of his white shirt, your hands roaming from his back to his shoulders and his precious hair, only pulling away again when you felt his bulge grow harder, thinking that what you felt before never happened, and that what you really wanted from him was exactly just that, but as you ran your hand over his jeans, he stopped you softly.

“We never really talk. I want that.” he said, squeezing lightly your thigh.

If you did as we wanted, you knew it would be over. You didn't want him to talk, you just wanted his lips, you weren't interested in meeting him, you knew he was a jerk, but he didn't think the same.

“Y/N, how was your day?” he asked with genuine interest, and as you were about to tell him how your teacher was being so hard on your group with pop quizzes every other day, his phone rang. You felt relieved that he was going to pick up when he checked who was calling, and got off him, fixing your clothes and your hair, then trying to fix his hair, he smiled when he felt your fingers playing with his hair, he hung up the phone and glanced nervously at you.

“I'm so fucking sorry, I have to go now, do you want me to drop you home?” Hesitantly, you said yes, and rode home, somehow feeling empty inside, wanting to ask if everything was okay everytime you stopped in a red light, but unable to speak a word, until you arrived home, you knew no one was there, and as you were giving him the helmet back, he asked for your number, “in case I need it” he said.

Head over the clouds, you waited for him to text you the rest of the day, and you were unable to sleep peacefully, hoping he'd call saying sorry for leaving early, and not calling before, but he didn't, and for the next three days, he was not waiting for you outside, you just saw him leave, riding alone, never looking back to you, and you knew then you made a mistake. You should have never kissed him, you should have never talked to him at all, and you sure should have never ever fell for him, but you did, and it was more painful than someone could ever imagine, no one ever warned you about feeling something for him.

Friday, 7:36 p.m: unknown number: “Do you wanna come to a party tomorrow?”

♡ Next

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

GUYS I'M SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG AND I NEEDED TO POST SOMETHING SOON OR I'D LOSE MY MIND, THERE WILL BE A PART 2 BUT I FELT LIKE IT WAS ENOUGH FOR A SINGLE POST

[nosferatyou]

If I Can Be So Bold: Chapter 2 (Jack White x OC)

Summary: The Girls first detroit show continues on with their headliner, the white stripes. And Lee gets to know our handsome stranger.

WC: 2.1k

Warnings: Nicotine use and mentions of alcohol.

Notes: I know this is shorter but that felt like the best place to stop the chapter. Keep you on your toes you know. More notes at the end.

Chapter Three

If you’ve ever been to a house show or a show in a small venue, you know its standing room only, which means limited views of the artists. Which means most people are pushing to the front to get as close as possible. And it is our first Detroit show we had to get as close as possible. 

Sure, I might have pushed a little too hard and made a small enemy, but it is always worth it for music. 

You will feel it in your chest, and you’re probably going to have the most fun upfront. The only exception is the mosh pit, but the chances are good that you’ll be thrown in by accident at one point or another. 

The girls and I had fully pushed and fought our way to the front; the only thing separating us from it was a group of assholes who didn’t understand what the sharp elbow jab meant.

The moment our newfound friends entered the stage, people lost their shit, and understandably so. They were Detroit’s little secret, so to say. Everybody loved them and thought they were the only ones to love them. Still, all the cheering was enough for us to get kicked for a noise complaint.

They both were wearing red and white, which I'd noticed earlier but had thought nothing about. It now seems to be their “thing.”

 I first saw meg, all smiles and adorning a kick-ass pair of coca-cola pants. Now Jack, what appeared to be a simple white shirt and bright red pair pants, was so striking. Maybe it was the bright lights, or perhaps he was just strikingly handsome, and I was using the clothes as an excuse. Either way, his face read that he was ready to do anything. Very sharp, very focused, and all the while looked prepared for anything. 

Harriet elbowed me and quietly said, “Quite the blues band they are.”

“Oh, hush up Harry, let them have their fun.”

Then played his guitar, no introduction words, no hello. He’s straight to the point.

While their whole look was one of grandeur, which was impressive for such a small band, what truly caught me off guard was their cover of “Moonage daydream” by none other than David Bowie. 

An already hard enough to cover song by any professional band. They somehow did it, and well too. They were keeping that Detroit garage sound and Bowie’s twang still in it. 

Said assholes from before had a tape recorder in their hand, already recording their set. 

Ezra spoke up.

“Sounds like a weirdo.”

“Not everyone is gifted with vocal chords as good as mine, Z.” Harriet said, wiggling her eyebrows.

“You guys need to learn show etiquette, lordy.”

They all eventually shut up, though, and started to get into it, Including me.

Throughout the energetic set, we started to realize how close our music was. Full of blues and heavy sound. The way they played with each other was just like how we did. They even had an overexcited frontman who ran the show. 

Two things were for sure. He was incredibly talented, as much as he was attractive. Maybe Harriet was right with the whole rebound thing.

By the second song, we all were dancing with the music. Jumping along to the sparse chords of “Screwdriver,” every time he played the three magic chords, we all hopped in unison. 

By “Let’s shake hands,” we all had been dragged into the mosh. All laughing our asses off and picking up any fallen comrades in the process. Harriet got a pretty gnarly bruise from that one. 

Long story short is that we all were having way too much fun.

There was this slow song, though, gave the two of them more room to look around and see the crowd. They both were both so invested in their playing that they’d hardly looked past the stage. 

Everyone in the crowd was just as enamored with watching them. 

I caught a particular man’s eye. Just as he had mine earlier. Every time he'd sing he'd look up at me. Eyes filled with something completely different. They weren’t pissed off. They weren’t dark and brooding. He was just watching me, and he seemed so invested in it too. Maybe it was narcissism, but they almost seemed lustful? As dumb and cliche as it sounds, I saw it. The way he looked at me was with genuine interest. I, of course, returned it. 

While I also had his gaze, I felt two more eyes on me. Which was, of course, was Harriet, noticing what was happening. Giving me the same dumb eyebrow wiggle as before. 

I returned my gaze to the stage. Sadly our exchange of glances had ended, hed turned his back to the crowd to grab another guitar that was just laying on the ground. On the back of his shirt was a crudely written setlist with song names like “Bob Coffee” and “Sugar good.” Which I can only assume (And hope) are abbreviations.

For the last song of the set, they played an incredibly upbeat slide song. Which I much appreciated, no one used a slide anymore. 

He gave an incredible performance and an even better solo(s) with the small piece of brass on his finger. 

Once they finished, they quickly made their way off the stage, and we did the same, bouncing through the sea of people to grab another beer from our shared van. 

“All I’m saying, Z. Is that if Timbuktu were real. Why have I never met anyone who's been?” said Harriet nursing her billionth beer.

“I swear to god you’re losing brain cells, Harry. Go check a fucking map.” Argued back Jo

“Josephine. That does not convince me of anything. It’s in all the stories! Take me to god damn Timbuktu, and i'll believe you.”

Jo groaned and threw her head into her hands. “Okay, firstly, my name isn’t even Josephine, it's Jolene, You know this. Secondly, you’re a lost cause.”

I grabbed my cigs, done listening to their dumb argument, And made my way to the back alley behind the venue. 

As I came upon it, I saw tonight's man of the hour. Leaning against the broken wall of the venue, cigarette already in hand. 

I had half a mind to turn around out of spite for Harriet’s sake, but was too far gone,

“Well, hey there, stranger.” I said jokingly, breaking the silence of the night.

He looked up, not startled by the noise. He didn’t seem bothered by the company either. 

“Well, hey yourself.”

I took a spot next to him and grabbed a cig out of the pack, tapping the top of the box on my hand before. Almost instinctively, he was ready with his lighter. Id leaned in and breathed it in, 

locking eyes with him in such close contact. Both of us Making the same eyes as before. 

“Quite the show you played tonight.” I said after taking a long drag from my cig, he repeated the 

action.

“Likewise,” he took another drag. “I'd have half a mind to think  you’re copying us.” He said with a wink.

“Likewise.” I mimicked, wink included. 

We both couldn’t seem to look at each other, eyes locked on the dark horizon. You know, that awkward stage of knowing somebody, but prolonged eye contact was just a no go.

“I haven’t seen you around here, and you have a face I wouldn’t forget. You passing through?” He asked

I gave a small laugh, “No, actually just moved here. Just me and the girls now. Taking over the southwest side.”

“No shit, huh? It seems we share a postal code.” He looked over to me with a small smile on his face.

“No shit. What street?” I asked, my excitement way too present.

“Ferdinand. Small shitty house, porch painted white and red. You can’t miss it.” He finished his cig, quickly grabbing another.

“Oh, I remember that! It was the first thing we noticed when we got here. But you’re a block over neighbor.” I bumped his arm, returning his small smile.

We went silent for a moment, just looking over the Detroit skyline, still in the stages of not knowing how to start conversations.

“So tell me, stranger. I want to get to the bottom of this mystery of our shared music. Who are your influences?” I asked, taking another drag and entirely putting my attention on him.

He laughed and put out his cig, stomping it into the ground. 

“Well, it’s the blues. You know Son House and muddy waters. That and Iggy Pop.” 

“Well, there’s the correlation. The same goes for me. Though I am more privy towards Taj Mahal and Howlin wolf Myself.” I stomped out my cig as well.

“You’re dad listen to them all the time?” He asked

“Oh, all the time.” I moved a little closer, not enough that he’d notice, but enough. “But country rules my house. It's law in Tennessee, you know.” I said, a small smirk falling on my face. 

“More the reason to go then.” 

 I very dramatically rolled my eyes. “Eh, more the reason to leave you mean.” 

He fake scoffed, covering his heart with his hand. “Are you telling me you don’t like country? Judging by your dad’s taste, it’s probably the good country you don’t like too.” 

“Overplayed and over appreciated is what I always say.”

He moved closer, just as I did, and his goofy smirk grew. “You’re telling me you don’t like johnny cash?” He asked.

“Not a bit.” I crossed my arms matter of factly. 

While we were in an “Argument,” I couldn’t stop thinking about Harriet’s words. Rebound. Plus his whole damn family wasn’t here to watch me shamelessly flirt.

“But I’m open to a certain handsome stranger changing my mind.”

He was unphased. In fact, it only made his smile grow.

“Well, I’ll just have to do that, Rosie.” 

“Hm. Rosie. I like that.” I said, moving even closer to him. Were less than a foot away from each other’s face, and Though I exchanged so little words with this man, I was ready to kiss the hell out of him. 

“Though I’m only going to let you call me that because you’re acting so nice. You know, lighting my cigs and all. Very gentleman like of you.” 

“I aim to please, Rosie.” He said simply. He drifted even closer.

I could feel his hot breath on my face. My heart was beating out of my chest. I couldn’t stop my actions if I tried.

I pushed forwards and met my lips with his. My already booming heart felt like it was about to explode. Why Was I so nervous? Guess I half expected him to pull away.

He didn’t, though, in fact, his hand came up and cradled my face, and his other made its way to my hip. Pressing me against the brick. 

Our bodies pressed together heatedly against the wall, us breathing heavily as our lips pressed together, heat radiating off the both of us. I could taste our shared breath, prominently cigarettes; I could feel the thud of our combined heartbeat as we fumbled to put our hands wherever we could. Both us acting like it was the one thing keeping us alive. 

Everything about him was dizzying, the way his hands gripped me like his life depended on it, how passionately he was kissing me despite how soft lips were. It made my stomach dance; it made warmth consume me.

I so desperately held onto him, my hands finally settling around his neck, nustling into his long unruly hair. It scared me how much I felt that I needed that. How addictive he felt.

From the van and out of sight, I could hear the girls asking where I was. I slowly broke away from our kiss, not wanting to be found out by the others. Not yet. I wasn’t ready for their incessant grade school teasing. 

We stayed close, still in each other’s arms. I closed my eyes and let out a sigh. Not wanting to let go. Still hungry for his touch.

“I think I have to get the drunk children home.” I said with a sigh.

“It’s the responsible thing to do.” He said with a goofy smile.

I kissed him again, this time just being a small peck. It was still just as good. 

I moved out of his grasp and went to grab a cig. He was ready with the lighter.

“Well, Rosie, if you ever want to..” His face tinted pink. “Jam. We will say jam. You know where I live.”

“I might just have to take you up on that offer.” 

“Well, See you around, stranger.” I said with a wink.

“See ya around, Rosie.” He leaned against the wall and repeated my actions. 

Turning around, I made my exit, cooly of course, but my whole body was buzzing.

Quick End notes: 

Firstly, ooh that smooch. This series is not what you guys think this will be. This is only the beginning. And i mean it really is just the beginning, but chapter two.

Secondly, If you didnt catch it this is set in 1998. And unfortunately while in my planning, I didnt catch that he had the worst fucking haircut ive ever seen that year. So Im just gonna pretend he looks 2000 era jack white. (see below for a visual of what is and what should have been)

What is

What should have been