hey, i was wondering if you could do a crazy ass boys gang react to a reader who just likes break music/music about hating their bf or something but doesn’t actually relate to the song
Jason Dean/JD - You think you’ve stumbled upon the one thing JD is normal about because—at first—he has no reaction and thinks nothing of it. It takes a while for the doubt to creep into his mind. Even a shoddily built house doesn’t collapse under the first rainstorm it endures. It takes time for the water to seep into the walls and rot them from the inside out. That’s what the songs do. Drip. He wonders why you sing them so passionately compared to anything else. Drop. Have you grown distant? Drip. Are you kissing him differently than you used to? Drop. Is he letting his mind run away with him? He’s prone to it. It’s in his blood. But every time he’s close to tossing the whole thing up to the monstrous weight of his own paranoia… there you go. Singing again. JD wants to open up your head and peer inside. Sift through all the precious membrane and viscera until he can wrap his fingers around the truth of what you’re feeling. Whatever it is. Before he drives himself crazy.
Sparrow!Ben Hargreeves - If Ben was told to describe his own personality, within his top three character traits would be: thick skin. Laughable. Truly laughable, considering that you can ruin his day by just singing a little “you must not know ‘bout me” while you lovingly make the two of you breakfast. It shouldn’t get to him. He knows it shouldn’t. But it does. In true Ben fashion—when he’s being irrational—he turns it back around to be your fault. You are clearly playing mind games with him. Yeah. He’s got it all figured out. You want him squirrel-y and on edge. You’ve interpreted him being affectionate with you (barely) and vulnerable (hah!) as him developing some pathological need for you. And now you’re holding it over his head. He’d respect the power play if it wasn’t happening to him. Expect sullen silence. Then explosive anger… followed by more sullen silence.
❥ gritting their teeth and bearing it ❥
David Mccall - Your first instinct is: no way should David be here. He’d absolutely tell me to turn that shit off. Well, you’re right! That’s certainly what he wants to do. However, that’s not what a normal boyfriend would do. And we all know that David wants nothing more in the world than for you to think he’s normal. On his good days, David likes to put on shows of sanity for you the way other people put on puppet shows for children at the local library. Relationships are about compromise. Sometimes the compromise is invisible. Here, it’s him not smashing the radio to pieces, so he doesn’t have to hear you sing another R&B-crooner-jam about leaving him any day now. As if he’d fucking let you.
Kevin Khatchadourian - To be fair to Kevin, most everything is an exercise in tolerance for him. This is no exception. He very plainly doesn’t like music to begin with. Any of it. Why you think the exception to this rule would be music about not needing a man (him being the man in question) is anyone’s guess. Still, you can tell this irritates him more than most things do. If you ask why—which is a recipe for getting your feelings hurt—he’ll say it’s because your enjoyment of this particular genre is the modern pass-time of insincerity. Here you are, day-in-and-day-out, singing about having your heart-broken (while it remains intact) and not needing him (when you do). For just a moment, you’ll swear his ever-impassive face will twist with the heat of real anger… but he blinks, and it’s gone. Maybe it was never there at all. Or maybe it was. Either way, it’s probably safer to sing when Kevin isn’t around.
Nathan Prescott - Even before you were officially dating, the gnarled roots of his loathing for your little hobby were settling into the foundation of your connection. It’s the way you put so much feeling behind every crooned note. The way you close your eyes to relish the lyrics as they roll off your tongue. The only thing Nathan can think any time you’re in the passenger seat, not even looking at him as your head bobs along to the rhythm of your latest favorite song, is: Who are you missing? Who do you see when you close your eyes? Who do you wish he was? He wears insecurity like a second skin. There hasn’t been a single moment in his life where he’s been good enough. Where he measured up. Even when he didn’t have any fucking competition. There is something in him that is rotten and worthless. It’s knocked him out of the running for more races than he can count. Nathan knows it’s a miracle he has you. He spends all his time counting down the seconds before his luck runs out. Whenever you belt a song about leaving some good-for-nothing boyfriend, his stomach twists. But he grips the steering wheel tight enough to hurt his hands and keeps his mouth shut. He has to. The moment he says it out loud will be the moment it clicks in your mind. And then you’ll be gone. Like everyone else.
Billy Loomis - At the start, Billy is too high off the honeymoon period to have complaints about anything. It’s so rom-com-esque. The two of you settling into domestic bliss together. Finding your rhythm and place in each other’s lives. Except, your Mr. Right is a serial killer. And you’re his plucky protagonist with enough of a dark side that you went, “Nobody’s perfect!” when you found that out. You two are living the perfect happy ending. But something in his stomach twists every time you belt along to your stereo. He can’t help but think back to his mother. The months leading up to the moment she packed a bag, and he never saw her again. There were signs. Billy’s picked his memories clean—down to the bone—to find them. He wonders if this is a sign he’s choosing to miss. Blinding himself like his father did to his mother’s unhappiness. Billy hopes you’re happy. Hopes you’re not a caged song-bird aching to fly away on the next breeze. God help the both of you if you are.
Josh Washington - Josh is grateful you’re even around. That you’ve stuck with him through everything that’s happened. After everything that’s happened. There are enough ghosts in his head to fill a small cemetery. His sisters. All his friends. Everyone he loves is dead and gone. Except you. Grateful doesn’t begin to cover the scope of what he feels for you. Neither does love. You’ve both been through something no one else understands. Seen things that no one else believes in. Josh wouldn’t even be human without your interference. The way you’d coaxed him from the mines like he was little more than a scared animal, all the while trying not to flinch at how his features had twisted to resemble the monsters that had killed all your friends. Josh doesn’t have the right to ask anything more from you. He certainly doesn’t have the right to ask you to stop singing.
It’s harmless. It’s beautiful. Josh loves the sound of your voice. It pulled him from the edge of insanity. And you sing nowadays because you’re happy. Because you’re healing, and things like singing along to the radio don’t feel pointless anymore. It’s what you sing that’s the problem. That’s where the torture starts. Josh can never forget that he doesn’t deserve you. It keeps him careful with you. Careful with his words. Careful not to scare you. Careful in a way he’d never been before the mountain. But his mind is weak. It always has been, but it’s weaker now than ever. On his bad days, the threads of logic can be so hard to grasp onto. Almost impossible. His mind takes fragments of songs and throws them into his face over and over. Until all the pieces build up to one simple message: you’d be better off without him. Josh curls up somewhere dark and quiet and pretends it isn’t true.
❥ secret fourth worse thing ❥
Stu Macher - You’d think Stu, with his class-clown nature, would understand when something isn’t that serious. Mostly, he does! A familiar beat starts to play. He’ll turn to you with a: ‘we doing this?’ type of grin. And then he’s belting along to the break-up anthems with you. Supplying the essential back-up vocals and ‘you go girl!’ ad-libs. Sometimes, though, they get to him. There’s no rhyme or reason you’ve been able to decipher. No pattern you’ve started to crack. It’s unnerving. Not being able to tell when a song is going to lead to a honey-soft memory soaked with your shared peals of laughter… or when it will make Stu blow up. But the only thing worse would be making Stu feel like he’s too sensitive to take a joke. So, close your eyes. Ignore the chill running up your spine. And just hope Stu is feeling playful when your favorite song comes on the radio.
A/N: first time back in the saddle in months! thank you for sending this request. I love when the gang gets to be not normal about a non-issue like this. It’s a great character study… that’s still an x reader! my favorite thing to write!
if you enjoyed these headcanons consider reblogging, leaving a reply, or an anon! this writer's only fuel is engagement. xoxoxo
blakekathryn
vaporwave
gummygunk
gamechangershow
romaincrisis
pixelskylines
