we are all just prisoners here of our own device

sideblog // my new stuff is posted here || find my old fics from my old blog here and my main blog here ✨️🎸🌟

[classicrockstoryteller]

𝕞𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕥

𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫: 𝙸 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝙽𝙴𝚅𝙴𝚁 𝚛𝚎𝚙𝚞𝚋𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚑 𝚖𝚢 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚔𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚠𝚎𝚋𝚜𝚒𝚝𝚎𝚜 (𝚆𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚙𝚊𝚍, 𝙰𝟶𝟹... 𝙴𝚝𝚌). 𝙿𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚍𝚘 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚌𝚘𝚙𝚢 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚛𝚎𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚖𝚢 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚔𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚎𝚜, 𝚛𝚎𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚐𝚜 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚘𝚔𝚊𝚢 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢 𝚖𝚞𝚌𝚑 𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚒𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚍!!

𝓣𝓻𝓲𝔁𝓽𝓮𝓻:

Pete Loran:

loudmouth

PJ Farley:

His Devil (smut)

Christmas Movies & Cuddles

𝓢𝓴𝓲𝓭 𝓡𝓸𝔀:

Snake (Dave) Sabo:

𝓜𝓮𝓽𝓪𝓵𝓵𝓲𝓬𝓪:

can’t sleep without you

James Hetfield:

𝓟𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓵 𝓙𝓪𝓶:

Halloween Heart-to-Heart

Eddie Vedder:

𝓖𝓾𝓷𝓼 𝓝' 𝓡𝓸𝓼𝓮𝓼:

over it now

Izzy Stradlin:

𝓦𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓮𝓻:

snowed in with you (Xmas fic, smut)

All Members:

𝓒𝓱𝓮𝓪𝓹 𝓣𝓻𝓲𝓬𝓴:

The Hair Dye Diaries Part 1

Robin Zander:

until you come back to me

[classicrockstoryteller]

dancing around the fire

part two ➳ “turn the tables”

Mötley Crüe x F!Reader, Metallica x F!Reader

Part 1 ♥︎

Tags: @slashscowboyboots @lost-in-the-80s @shelickedthebeater lmk if you would like to be tagged!!

Warnings: profanity, drinking/mentions of drinking, Geoff smoking weed, and well, being Geoff, angst.... lmk if I missed any!

You could still feel yesterday’s rage burn inside of you as you took a seat in a chair beside Nikki. Andrea thought it would be best to get interviews going ASAP. Fuck Andrea fuck Doc and fuck Nikki. You thought to yourself as you let out a frustrated sigh.

He had a lot of audacity, sitting there so comfortably. It looked like he was enjoying himself, with that huge cocky grin of his. You wanted to knock his teeth right out of his damn mouth. 

You could be planning out a tour with Metallica right now, but no, you’re stuck in this hellhole of a plan Andrea went behind your back on. And you were fuming. How in the hell were you supposed to fake this shit for an hour, let alone eight?

You’d only been sitting beside him for a minute or two and you were already annoyed by the sound of his breathing. And the scent of that cologne he drenched himself in, it smelled like bottled ass. 

“Hi, there, I’m Nancy,” You were snapped out of your thoughts as a blonde held her hand for you to shake, “I’ll be conducting his interview.” 

“Y/N.” You dismissed her hand and leaned back against your chair. 

“Nikki,” He grasped Nancy’s hand for a firm handshake, “I apologize about her. It was a long night if you know what I mean.” He winked.

Is he fucking serious right now? 

“Oh,” She flushed, “No worries, then… Let’s get this interview started shall we?” 

Once the cameras were rolling it was like Nikki turned the fake dial-up twelve notches. 

“Fans never thought they’d see the day where Nikki Sixx and Y/N Y/L/N set aside their differences, and reunite both professionally and romantically,” Nancy smiled at the two of you, “What brought the two of you together again?”

“Well, Nancy, Y/N and I have always had this… Chemistry.” Nikki casually threw his arm over your shoulders, “It was only a matter of time before our resistance gave in. We’ve both been around the world, but there’s only one person we consider ‘home’. And that’s each other.” 

Fucking liar. 

“That’s sweet,” Nancy smiled, “You’re a lucky girl, Y/N, thousands would love to be in your seat right now.” 

“I wouldn’t call it luck,” You shook your head, fighting back a grin when Andrea’s eyes nearly popped out of her head. Of course, she’d be watching from the sidelines and assume that you’d blow it. “I’m blessed.”

It felt like hell with each second that ticked by. And as the day went on, you felt as if you were holding your breath a little more. You had to smile, hold his hand, and play into this bullshit story you didn’t even believe in. But for all you knew you had no choice, it was this or lose everything you’ve worked so hard for. So you sat through interview, after interview, Hating your life a little more whenever Nikki would look at you almost the exact same way he used to. 

It irritated you how easily he could refresh old memories and dig up everything you tried to bury. It was like the knife was pulled from the wound, only to be plunged back in deeper. You didn’t want him back, after all, he put you through? Fuck that. But you didn’t want to remember, or think, about every little thing either. 

By the time you made it back to your apartment, you were even more pissed than you were when you left.

The door boomed as you slammed it shut behind you causing Daniel to practically flinch from his spot on the couch.

“Fire me.” 

“What?” Daniel raised a brow, turning his attention away from the tv in confusion.

“I can’t keep fucking doing this so, please… Fire me.”

Daniel snorted, “If you hate working with Nikki so bad then why don’t you just quit?” 

“If I quit, he wins, so just fucking fire me. At least just long enough that you can fire Andrea and then hire me again.” 

“C’mon, Y/N,” Daniel tried to reason with you, “You know as well as I do that we need this record to be a hit. If faking it for a while causes it to top the charts, then that’s what you’re going to have to do. Isn’t that the reason you decided to go along with it for now at least?” 

“That was when I wasn’t thinking about how fucking annoying he can be.” 

“He can’t be that bad, you tolerate Geoff just fine.” 

As if he were summoned, Geoff rounded the corner from the hallway with an old dusty lampshade on his head, holding one of those wooden tobacco pipes. 

“Geoff, what in the fuck are you doing now?” You questioned, pinching the bridge of your nose as he held the pipe to his lips before puffing out smoke. 

“I lost my bong so… I found my grandpa's old pipes and it’s not working as great as I thought it would…” He trailed off, “Hey! Cops is on!” He cheered before rushing to the window and pulling the curtain aside. He bounced on his heels like an excited child as red and blue lights flickered outside, “I love this show! It reminds me of college.” He giggled. 

One of the weird things Geoff often did when he was high was confusing anything, and everything with the tv show “Cops”. Street lights, the microwave, the Christmas tree your neighbors left up year-round… The husky in the floor above you, that would howl very frequently. (To him, it sounded like sirens). And so, he’d get all giddy, and go running off somewhere where he could “watch” the show happen. 

Currently, it was actual cops in the parking lot of your apartment complex. 

Maybe Daniel had a point, somehow you were unphased by Geoff, even if he was constantly pushing your buttons on the daily basis. But Nikki? Nikki made you feel so much rage. You couldn’t imagine spending months working with him on this bullshit publicity stunt. Or touring with him, or sharing a stage every night. Just thinking about it made you feel dread, and just see gray. Like there was no going forward, no future… 

How in the fuck were you supposed to pull this off? 

The next morning your head throbbed and your eyelids felt heavier than they usually did. Fuck Nikki, and Fuck Andrea for all of this damn stress. If it weren’t for them maybe you wouldn’t be pissed off 24/7.

Groaning softly, you moved to get out of bed. If you were going to make it through the day you were going to need something to relieve your headache. Your feet practically dragged against the floor as you slowly trudged towards the kitchen. You weren’t even awake enough to notice Andrea just lounging about in your apartment until she spoke up. 

“It’s about time you crawled out of bed!” Andrea’s cheery voice sent a wave of irritation through you, “I have quite the itinerary for you today.”

“No.”

“But, Y/N, I—”

“No.” You repeated, “I gotta be at Kirk’s in an hour.”

“Y/N, if this publicity stunt is going to work, I’m going to need you to start spending less time with Metallica, and more time with Mötley Crüe.” You could hear the annoyance in her voice.

“This isn’t about you, Andrea,” You shook your head as you reached for the Tylenol, “You may have set this publicity stunt up, but it’s my fucking life. And you’re not going to treat me like a puppet on some strings.”

“It’s my band.” She tried to argue, causing you to snort in response.

“Is it?” You raised a brow, “I don’t see you on any fucking posters. The fans don’t cheer for you every night.”

“Y/N—”

“Fuck off, Andrea,” You cut her off before popping a couple Tylenol pills into your mouth, “I’m taking the day off.”

“Okay,” Andrea shrugged, “Guess I’ll call Elektra Records and tell them to pull the plug.” 

This bitch. 

“The fuck is your game, Andrea?” You pivoted to face her, “Are you trying to piss me off more than I already am?” 

Andrea shifted to lean against your poster-cluttered living room wall. “Y/N, I know you’re angry—”

“Oh, I’ve been fucking livid, actually.”

“—but you need to hear me out.”

“Why would I do that?” You growled, not even bothering to look her in the eyes.

“Because, I want you to break him.”

“Excuse me?”

“Nikki has been pinning over you since you dumped him years ago. He begged and pleaded with me to agree to this deal.”

“I’m not following?”

“Nikki truly wants to win you back. Badly. And I think we could use that to our advantage… and if he’s broken, you can thrive while Mötley Crüe plummets,” Andrea smirked, “Break him.”

“That’s fucked up.” Daniel spoke as he entered the room, sporting a shit-eating grin spread across his face, “Do it.”

“I don’t know guys…” You sighed. As nice as it would be to bring him down, your gut twisted at the thought. “This sounds like a bad idea.”

“Remember when Nikki said on live television that you guys wouldn’t have even happened if it weren’t for Mötley Crüe?” Andrea asked, “Or the time that he brought home that platinum blonde while he thought you were still on tour?”

“How could I forget?” You asked dryly, “That was my birthday…” 

“And what about the time he said, also on live television, that you probably slept your way to fame?” Andrea crossed her arms, “I could keep going but… are you sure you don’t want to make him pay for anything? He drug you through the mud for years, Y/N, and now’s your chance.”

“So what do you want me to do?”

“Turn the tables,” Andrea shrugged with a wicked grin, “Break him down slowly. Play with his emotions. When he finally crashes, I wanna see him burn.”

[classicrockstoryteller]

heyyyy dancing around the fire part 2 (aka the “shut up geoff” fic) will be posted soon 🕺🏼

[part 1 is here]

[classicrockstoryteller]

still working on part 2 of dancing around the fire I promise guys <3

[classicrockstoryteller]

still working on part 2 of dancing around the fire I promise guys <3

[classicrockstoryteller]

still working on part 2 of dancing around the fire I promise guys <3

[classicrockstoryteller]

Christmas Movies & Cuddles

PJ Farley x Reader

A/N: Merry Christmas everyoneee this one goes out to my friend Haley! I’m sorry your Christmas isn’t going that well but I hope this helps!! 💖💖💖

Also everyone else: I was originally planning on writing more Christmas fics but haven’t had the time!!

Tags: @slavet0thegrind @slashscowboyboots @shelickedthebeater @lost-in-the-80s

Warnings: none? Just fluff!

Christmas was pretty low-key for you and PJ this year. All you wanted was to spend the day relaxing with him, with no one to visit. Just to wake up to him jumping on the bed like a child, exclaiming, “It’s Christmas! It’s Christmas! It’s Christmas!”

He’s a goof, but he’s your goof. And you adore him. He makes you so unbelievably happy and you’re positive that you couldn’t have been gifted with a better boyfriend. PJ means the world to you and the way his eyes light up over the smallest things makes your heart swell with love. You adore this man so much, and as cheesy as it is to say; you love him to the moon and back.

So as you gathered the wrapping paper that PJ absolutely shredded through, he hopped on the couch while singing to “Rockin’ Round the Christmas Tree”, adding in his own lyrics of course. He was adorable, and always lifted your spirits.

Dropping the paper into a bag you smiled as PJ pulled you up on the couch to dance with him.

Holding his hand out in front of him as if he were holding a microphone, he sang his new little version of the song to you, still bouncing on the couch with his slippers, sweat pants, and a flannel shirt. Hair was covering his face, but you could still see his joy-filled smile. Once he finished his live concert, the two of you sat on the couch, laughing together.

“I love you so much, baby,” You smiled, brushing some hair out of his face, “Don’t you ever change.”

“But, babe, wouldn’t I get like? Stinky if I never changed?”

You let out a howl of laughter as he scrunched his face together, “I didn’t mean clothes, silly.”

“Ohhhh you meant personality-wise. Gotcha!” He nodded with a goofy laugh before making finger guns, “Babe before I forget!” PJ turned to pull out another bag he had hidden beside the couch, “One last present!”

Looking beneath the tissue paper, you smiled and looked back up to meet PJ’s gorgeous chocolate brown eyes.

“You got us matching pyjamas?” You asked before pulling out a flannel the same color as his, with sweatpants that also matched the ones he had one as well as a matching set of slippers.

“Uh-huh,” He nodded excitedly like a kid, “now we can be matching while watching our favorite Christmas movies! You go get changed and I’ll gather the snacks.”

By the time you stepped out of the bedroom, PJ had already gathered a stack of both of your favorite Christmas movies, as well as some blankets, popcorn, some candy, your favorite drinks, and had a movie set and ready to go in the DVD player. All he had to do was press ‘play’.

“Come here, baby,” He held his arm out for you to crawl up beside him on the couch, which you gladly did so, resting your head on his shoulder as he clicked the play button. You smiled at him as the Christmas movie began to play, wondering how you got so lucky to have such an amazing boyfriend.

This is the man you’re gonna spend every Christmas with for the rest of your life, you knew that much, and that was all you could ever ask for. Laughing with him during Kevin’s stunts on Home Alone, and quoting Clark Griswold on National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation. And as you were dozing off on his chest as your eyelids started to get heavy, you faintly heard him say, “I’m so in love with you, Y/N.”

This Christmas will always be something special for both of you.

[classicrockstoryteller]

snowed in with you

Izzy Stradlin x Reader

a/n: this one’s for my sis @slashscowboyboots! Karen, I’m so lucky to have you as a friend and I really hope you enjoy this! 😌💖 I’m wishing you a very Merry Christmas! And so thankful to have you by my side these past few years!

tags: @slashscowboyboots @teller258316 @shelickedthebeater @lost-in-the-80s

warnings: smut, profanity(?), unprotected sex… remember kids cover your stump before you hump

Keep reading

[classicrockstoryteller]

are you going to do a second part to the shut up geoff fic?

Hi anon!!

Part 2 is in the works as we speak!

Unfortunately I've had to work a lot more hours than usual bc we're understaffed so my free time has been limited, but I'm trying to work on it when I have time (like right now 🙂).

[classicrockstoryteller]

Please give us another part to dancing around the fire I'm so invested already

Hi!!

I'm working on part two haha, it's taking me a little longer right now bc my work schedule is crazy with the holidays coming up, but I hope to get part 2 posted soon!

I am so glad you like it 😊 thank you so much for reading!

[classicrockstoryteller]

[classicrockstoryteller]

Please give us another part to dancing around the fire I'm so invested already

Hi!!

I'm working on part two haha, it's taking me a little longer right now bc my work schedule is crazy with the holidays coming up, but I hope to get part 2 posted soon!

I am so glad you like it 😊 thank you so much for reading!

[classicrockstoryteller]

dancing around the fire

part one ➳ “shut up geoff”

Mötley Crüe x F!Reader, Metallica x F!Reader

A/N: idk what magicians hat I pulled this out of but Bon Appétit 🎩🐇 ALSO NO HATE TO ANY BANDS ITS FOR THE PLOT I PROMISE

Tags: @slashscowboyboots @lost-in-the-80s @shelickedthebeater

Warnings: profanity, enemies to pretend-lovers(?), fake romance... etc?

FIND PART 2 HERE

Relief had finally settled in your gut at the thought of finally being able to finalize the newest album your band, [insert badass band name here], had been working on for months. The three of you always busted your asses to put in the best work you could with each song you wrote. Daniel was probably one of the best drummers you’ve worked with, he had great ideas and loved working on the lyrics when you found yourself with writer's block. The two of you had a good flow, and when you were drunk on stage and felt cocky, you’d think about how the two of you could probably take over the world… Of course, that was the liquor talking, but you truly were a great team. You sang lead vocals and played the guitar. Being the lead wasn’t exactly your favorite part of the industry, but someone has to do it. 

And then there’s Geoff. 

When he isn’t playing his main casting part as “pain in your ass” he actually was a kick-ass bassist. 

But on days like today that “pain in your ass” label was coming out pretty strong. 

“Hey, do you guys know what would make this song even better?” Geoff marched into the studio like he was on a mission. 

“Geoff, I swear to God, if you say a cowbell one more time—”

“A kazoo!” 

The next few moments were filled with baffled silence as you and Daniel watched Geoff pull out a neon-green lint-covered kazoo from his pocket. 

“You know man, I think it’d be better to hold off on the kazoo until the next album. Doesn’t really fit the vibe.” Daniel said with a polite shrug.

“True!” Geoff nodded before exiting into the storage room. 

“Do you guys know what would make this song even better?” A familiar Danish accent entered the room.

“You were supposed to be here at noon,” You watched as James walked into the studio, followed by Lars, Kirk, and Jason. “It’s half past three. The hell were you doing?” 

“Jacking off.” James shrugged, causing you to laugh. 

“You’re a dick,” You rolled your eyes playfully and chuckled, “We really needed y'alls help deciding on the album cover, but ultimately Daniel chose because Geoff kept having suggestions of what would make the cover ‘so much better’.” 

“Honestly, I think that unicorn drawing would’ve added a nice touch.” Kirk pointed at the poorly-drawn, unicorn stick figure Geoff had left laying out. 

“That’s what I said!”

You hadn’t even noticed that Geoff had snuck back in yet. “Hey, do you guys know what would make the album so much better? If we toured with Jimmy Buffett!” 

“Oh, yeah, then you could drink margaritas and learn the language of the parrot-heads,” James nodded, “maybe start a cult even—”

“Shut up, fucker, he’ll genuinely consider it,” Daniel whispered, elbowing James in the side. But it was too late. Excitement had already filled Geoff’s eyes, and his converse squeaked against the linoleum floors as he pivoted towards your direction.

“Y/N, can we—” 

“No.” 

“Aw, damn,” Geoff pouted, hanging his head low like a disappointed child, “I’m going back to the storage room.” 

Once Geoff had made his exit, you and Daniel began filling Metallica in on the details for your newest album. You’d been friends with Metallica since you had started out in ‘84. They always had some of the best inputs and never let you down when you needed some other opinions. James sat comfortably beside you on the broken-down sofa. His arm slung over your shoulder while you flipped through different cover art designs you had looked through earlier. 

“Well, well, well, if it ain’t the breakfast club.” You paused mid-sentence and looked at the door where four newcomers stepped in. Your stomach turned as you took in the intruders. 

Mötley Crüe.

“The fuck are you guys doing here?” You grunted, pushing aside the cover art and shifted to look at all of them. 

“They’re here to help.” Andrea, your manager smiled as she and Doc McGhee walked in after the four. 

“That’s funny, if we wanted the help of a bunch of monkey-asses we would’ve gone to the zoo and asked the baboons.” You scoffed, making a point to glare directly at Nikki. Andrea was well aware of your history with Sixx. He was an ex and not one that you’re still carrying a torch for.

“I told you this was a waste of time.” Nikki crossed his arms.

“Y/N, you should watch your tone. Considering that you’ll be spending lots of time with Mötley Crüe, Sixx in particular… You might want to change the way you behave around him.”

“What do you mean, ‘spending lots of time with Mötley Crüe’?” You raised a brow.

“Well, in order to increase sales for both of your albums when they’re released… you’ll be dating Nikki. Publicly. Y’know, since you’ve got history and everything? The fans are gonna love it.” 

Your jaw dropped to the floor, but before you could say anything, Lars beat you to the punch. 

“You gotta be mcfocking kidding me.”

“Lars—”

“Just when you focking think something possibly good could focking come out of this situation. Here comes Doc and Andrea. Honking their focking clown noses—”

“LARS—”

“Just honkhonkhonkhonkhonkhonnnnk”

“I got 20 bucks right here for whoever will knock grumpy the dwarve's ass out,” Vince pulled a crisp $20 bill from his pocket. If you thought Lars lost his shit before, he was going absolutely apeshit now.

“WHAT'D YOU SAY TO ME YOU PUNK ASS BOTTLE BLOND BITCH—”

It took a while, but once James, Kirk, and Jason managed to drag a feral, kicking and screaming, five-foot-six, danish drummer out of the room a cold silence followed. 

“No.” You looked at Andrea. 

“You don’t get a choice, Y/N, that’s the thing… Doc signed off on it, and I signed off on it. It’s set in stone. You’ll be playing the part of Nikki’s girlfriend as long as we see fit.

“You can't do that!” Daniel argued. 

“Actually we can. Like you and Geoff, Y/N signed a contract. If she doesn't follow through with this publicity stunt, then Elektra Records will drop you.” Doc finally spoke up. 

“Let them fuckin' drop us then!” You were seeing red. Trying to figure out how in the fuck Andrea weaselled this behind your back. 

“Y/N, we’ll figure this out. We can get a lawyer to look into the legal details…” Daniel pulled you aside, “Until then though….” He shrugged, “We can’t afford for this record to flop.” 

You hated that he was right, for now, the situation was out of control. Even if you wanted to say “fuck this deal, and fuck you”, you really needed your upcoming record to sell. 

“Fine, but if he gets any funny ideas I’m chopping off his dick and hanging it on a necklace.” You held out an unenthusiastic hand for Nikki to shake.

“Hey, do you guys know what would make this publicity stunt so much better?” 

“SHUT UP GEOFF!”

[classicrockstoryteller]

Halloween Heart-to-Heart

James Hetfield x Reader

a/n: got this one posted a little later than I wanted but 🤷🏼‍♀️

tags: @slashscowboyboots @lost-in-the-80s @shelickedthebeater @markslaughtershands James Hetfield peeps wya? LMFAOOOO

warnings: (some) angst, profanity

prompt credits: Pick your poison — Y/N catches their crush kissing someone else. (Angsty)

Heart-to-Heart Bonfire where character confesses feelings during a bonfire.

You didn’t want to be here.

No matter how many apples Lars bobbed his head into a bucket to get, or how many jokes Kirk could tell, you’d rather be back at the hotel. Or at home.

A Halloween Party out in the middle of the woods —for the scary effect Lars wanted— wasn’t desirable to you this year. You wanted to be in bed, warm in your blankets after a nice hot shower.

Instead? You’re cradling a bottle of Budweiser watching everything else happen around you. Jason made a great Frankenstein, there was no denying that. At least his smile brought some happiness to your heart. You never understood why the guys weren’t nicer to the poor boy.

And Lars, of course he took on the roll of wearing a white sheet. “a fockin ghost is classic! I’m like Patrick Swazye!” keep dreaming lil drummer.

“C’mon, Y/N, lighten up,” Kirk patted your shoulder, “we’re here to enjoy ourselves tonight! We’ve even got tomorrow off.”

“I’ll try,” You forced a smile, “For you I’ll try.”

And you did.

You and Jason played pin the hat on the witch, had a drink with Lars, played beer-pong with James, and talked to Kirk about what you both dressed up as for Halloween growing up.

And just when you were having fun, just as you were starting to enjoy yourself… it all came to a sudden halt.

A pit growing in your stomach as you saw James kissing a groupie who had been desperate to get to him throughout the night. She wasn’t just a groupie, you went to high school with her, she was a bully. The only reason she wanted to get to him was to hurt you.

The worst part is, you had no right to be jealous. James wasn’t yours, and he could kiss whoever he damn well pleased. No matter how much you liked him, you couldn’t do a damn thing about it. Even if your crush was so fucking obvious to everyone who cared to notice.

“Earth to Y/N,” Lars snapped his fingers in front of your face causing you to snap out of your spiral of overthinking, “Hey, we’re playing spin the bottle if you wanna join in.”

“...”

“C’mon, Y/N, it’ll be fun.”

“I think I’ve had enough fun for one night.” You sighed, handing the drummer your half-drank bottle of beer, “Thanks for the party, Lars. Stay Safe.”

Walking away from the music and the noise, you found yourself sitting on a tree trunk around the bonfire that was located further away from the party. You weren’t ready to go to bed yet, now you had too many thoughts screaming in your head to fall asleep.

And that’s when the spiral began again.

What if James and her have been together all this time and you never knew it?

Did the guys know?

If so, how long have you been making a fool of yourself to all of them?

Why couldn’t you have said no and stayed at the fucking hotel? He’d still have you wrapped around his finger and you’d still look like the heart-eyed simp.

“Mind if I join you?”

Tears burned in your eyes at the sound of his voice, and you did your best to swallow the lump that was in your throat.

“Shouldn’t you be with Madison or whatever her name is?” You scoffed, folding your arms over your chest.

“Oh, uhh, you mean Makyla?”

“Whatever,” You rolled her eyes, “Shouldn’t you be keeping her warm or whatever.”

“What the fuck is your problem?”

“Out of everyone you could’ve kissed tonight,” You looked up at him as a tear rolled down your cheek, “You kissed her.”

“Y/N—”

“I’ve been crushing on you for so long,” You cried, wiping tears from your cheeks, “And it’s been a waste of time, all these months… I’m a fool for you, Hetfield. Or maybe I’m just a fool. Hell, I don’t know.”

“You like me?”

“I have since February,” You nodded your head before shrugging, “But it’s a little too late for that now.”

You stood from the trunk and moved to leave when his hand caught your wrist.

“She kissed me,” James spoke, “I’ve been trying to avoid her this whole night and she came out of nowhere and kissed me.”

“What?” You sniffled, looking up at James.

“I can’t stand her, she gets on my fuckin’ nerves.” He shook his head, “She made a scene but I guess you weren’t there when I pushed her away.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because I fuckin’ love you and I’m sorry for not having the balls to come out and say it before.” He sighed, “I figured you had your eyes set on Lars or some shit and I didn’t wanna fuck things up by making shit weird between us.”

“So... Y-you don’t like her?”

“Fuck, no.” James shook his head, “All she ever fuckin’ talks about is her ex Phil or some shit and it’s annoying. I don’t want to be with the girl who only ever thinks about her ex, I want to be with the person who makes me want to do better. Be better.”

“And that’s person’s me?”

“It always has been.” He smiled before pulling you into a kiss, “I love you, Y/N.”

“I love you too, James.”

[classicrockstoryteller]

His Devil

PJ Farley x Reader

a/n: Happy Halloweennnnnn! 💀🎃👻

tags: @slavet0thegrind @markslaughtershands @slashscowboyboots @lost-in-the-80s @shelickedthebeater

warnings: profanity, smut, unprotected sex (bag it before you tag it kids!)

prompt & credits: 13. “I thought you agreed I should wear this costume to the party tonight?” “Oh I agreed to you wearing it tonight, but I had no party in mind”

For a few weeks now Pete and Steve have been planning a Halloween Party. Costumes, games, candy, spiked punch... if you didn't know any better it was gonna be like those parties you and PJ used to sneak out to in high school. Regardless, Mark had come down with the flu and couldn't attend the party.

Win-win.

And while the two were hyping up their upcoming party, PJ refused to let you go out and buy a costume, insisting he had the perfect one and it would be a surprise the night of the party.

“C’mon, babe, you’re not even gonna let me sneak a peek?”

“No! Not until Sunday!”

“But PJ!”

“Baby, do you trust me?”

“If it’s one of those hotdog costumes again, PJ, I swear...”

“It’s not, don’t worry.”

You had no choice but to wait. It's not like you didn't search for the hidden costume, because you did. Just like a child searching for Christmas presents before their parents had the chance to wrap them. You had searched the entire house and searched it well, wherever he was hiding them, they weren't here.

And so you carved pumpkins and helped Pete hang up some pumpkin-shaped lights while PJ and Steve worked on making some spiked apple cider.

"Hey, you guys remember the year that Mark got his head stuck in a pumpkin?" Steve spoke up and a smile found its way onto your face at the memory.

"Yeah, that was also the party where you guys told him to bob for apples but they were all tomatoes." PJ snorted at your words.

"It's not our fault that we were so drunk we couldn't tell if the red and green things were apples or tomatoes."

"PJ," You smiled at him with a shake of your head, "You guys hadn't even started drinking yet."

"Oh... OH!" The realization hit him, "Then what did we do with the apples?"

"There wasn't any." Pete snorted.

And that's how the rest of the day went. Prepping the house for the party, with lights, drinks, food, and decorations, you got what you could do in the time you had. Telling stories, laughing, and joking. It was one of those days where you felt at peace with everything. You had your boyfriend and your friends, and that's all you needed.

Of course, your boyfriend's secretiveness held up until the night of the party. He was dressed as what he declared was a fallen angel. Wearing a black leather jacket with a black t-shirt, black jeans, and black shoes paired with some black wings. The lightness of his hair complimented all the dark, and boy he looked amazing.

Then it was your turn, if he was a fallen angel, you were his devil.

Most Devil costumes were cheap and cliche but you could tell PJ put a lot of time into this costume. The red dress you wore hugged your hips and curves, and you'd be lying if you said you didn't look drop-dead gorgeous in it. He paired the dress with some velvet horns and a red tuning fork that had a custom handle.

PJ's jaw dropped the minute you stepped out of the door. His eyes were tracing every one of your curves with desire as a smirk made its way to his lips.

"You ready to go to the party?"

"No."

"What?" You raised a brow, "what's wrong?"

PJ didn't say a word as his eyes traced over the red silk once more.

"I-is it the costume?"

"You could say that." PJ nodded

“I thought you agreed I should wear this costume to the party tonight?”

“Oh I agreed to you wearing it tonight, but I had no party in mind," PJ smirked, stepping forward to place his hands on your hips, "You look heavenly, baby. Let's just stay home."

"We promised Pete and Steve that we'd be there..." You trailed off as PJ kissed and nipped at your neck.

"There's always next year," He shrugged, gripping your ass with his hands, "Let's have a party of our own."

"As tempting as your offer sounds, Mr. Farley," you pecked his lips softly, "Pete and Steve are really counting on us to be at the party."

"Baby..." PJ whined

"Two hours, let's stick around for two hours and we can leave."

"Half an hour."

"An hour and a half."

"An hour." PJ's eyes were looking into yours pleadingly, "Please, baby?"

"Deal."

Horror movies playing in one room, Monster Mash playing in another, the party was alive and thriving when the two of you arrived. PJ's hand rested on the small of your back as you talked to Steve who was dressed as a classic werewolf.

Pete was making his rounds, decked out in a vampire costume, if you didn't know any better you would've guessed he was a member of The Lost Boys.

You weren't even half an hour into the party and could feel PJ's hands rubbing your hips softly as you poured yourself a drink. "PJ, someone's gonna see you." You whispered as he shrugged.

"They should mind their own business, then," PJ sighed, "Because all I can think about is getting you home."

"We agreed on an hour," You turned so you were facing him, "Can't you wait a little longer?"

"Making me wait is cruel," He pouted, "I need you now."

"Then take me upstairs."

"What?"

"Take me upstairs." You repeated.

Next thing you know you're pressed against the bathroom door as PJ kissed your neck hungrily, his hands snaking around your back to unzip your dress and let it slip to the floor.

"Fuck, baby," he growled out a moan, "You're so damn stunning, y'know that?" He whispered as you stepped out of your panties.

You gasped as he bent you over the bathroom sink before dropping his pants and boxers.

His lips molded to your neck as he sucked and nipped on your sensitive spot as he slipped his length into you. Moaning, you leaned back into his chest, turning your head so you could press a kiss to his jaw.

His pace was hard and fast, almost emphasizing how bad he needed you since you stepped out of the bedroom door.

Your hands gripped the porcelain sink, knuckles turning white, as he thrusted into you roughly. You could feel that familiar knot in your stomach begin to build up, it wouldn’t be long before you climaxed.

Letting out a guttural moan PJ gripped your hips tighter.

“So fucking gorgeous,” he moaned reaching down to rub your sensitive bud, “My precious girl.”

“Yours.” You moaned, looking at him in the mirror, “All yours, Farley.”

“Fuck.” His groan came out as more of a long whine, hinting he was getting close, “I’m gonna—”

“Me too.”

Your legs shook and your eyes rolled back as you came around his cock, moaning as you felt him release shortly after you.

“Fuck, baby,” He panted, wrapping his arms around your waist, “You’re so perfect.”

“What do you say we go get some of that cider, huh?”

PJ smiled and pressed a kiss to your temple, “I’d love that.”

[classicrockstoryteller]

the hair dye diaries (part 1)

Winger (Crackfic) Fanfic

a/n: image for this fic is curtsey of Lynne (@electric–love) I combined two ideas onto this crackfic, the hair dye & the weed and hot lasagna part…. Enjoy the chaos 💖

tags: @electric–love @slavet0thegrind @slashscowboyboots @lost-in-the-80s @shelickedthebeater

warnings: teeniest bit of profanity, Kip says hell, Reb being a prankster (?), Use of the ol wacky tobaccy, Hot Lasagna & The Meatballs

In his right and sober mind Kip would’ve never thought about dying his hair. His hair was as gorgeous as a lion’s mane (at least, looking in the mirror, he thought so). His hair was the money maker (again, he thought so), and why would he try to fix what ain’t broken? Alter the color to his hair? Then who would come to Winger’s concerts? Besides, if any other bands found out he had dyed his hair they would’ve had a field day with him. Hell, he could name several bands right now that would try to mop the floor with him. 

He’s no Vince Neil, bleach wasn’t getting anywhere near his hair. He couldn’t pull off blond. 

You’ve heard the term, “Don’t knock it till you try it” well…. Kip’s definitely knocking it without trying it. 

“C’mon, Kip, it wouldn’t look that bad.” Reb insisted. 

“No, I’m not dying my hair,” The singer refused, “Why are you so insistent that I dye my hair anyway?” 

“No reason…” Reb shrugged. He actually had many reasons, the current one was seeing what his friend would look like with neon orange hair. Sounds ridiculous, but Reb thought it’d be funny.

He knew there was no way he’d be able to talk Kip into experimenting with dyeing his hair. Kip was too stubborn to budge. Well, sober anyway. And that’s when Reb began to plan how to make his dream come to life. 

Lighting the blunt Reb had saved, he took a puff before passing it to the singer, “C’mon, touring’s been stressful on all of us. Let’s de-stress.” 

They had a small venue show in half an hour, but might as well, right? What’s the worst that could happen? Kip figured not much. And so he took the blunt from Reb. 

Yeah, get Kip baked out of his gourd then dye his hair, a perfect plan, but they had to attend the show first. 

“Are you sure Kip is cool to sing?” Paul looked over his shoulder at the singer who had two different colored shoes on and was wearing his shirt inside out. 

“Of course, he is,” Reb nodded his head, “He’s fine.”

If only that were true, but ‘Kip I-will-not-dye-my-hair Winger’ was FRIED. Annnddddd he wasn’t handling the weed as well as Reb was. 

The crowd cheered as the boys took the stage & Kip staggered up to the front as if he wasn’t fighting off his assistant who tried to help him put his mic on. “Hi, uh, I’m Hot Lasagna Winger.” 

Paul looked over at Reb with wide eyes, Reb shrugged. Kip could’ve been joking… right?

“And this is my band…” 

Winger

Winger

C’mon, Kip, you know this. It’s Winger. Rod said to himself. 

“This is my band, Hot Lasagna and The Meatballs.” 

NO.

Reb what have you done??? 

It’d been ages since Kip had smoked a blunt and he was longgg gone.

Once the show was finally over, the four of them headed back to Reb and Kip’s shared apartment. Kip couldn’t get into too much trouble at home. If only Rod and Paul knew the plans Reb had for the singer. 

“Pauuuul? Where are Pink Floyd records? I gotta listen to The Wall right now!” Kip’s voice carried throughout the house, Kip had been frantically flipping through vinyls in a desperate attempt to find “The Wall”. Rod had taken all the Fleetwood Mac albums after Kip burst into tears five seconds into “Landslide”. His Fleetwood Mac privileges had been revoked until he could hold his composure, (who could blame Kip though? Doesn’t Landslide bring everyone to tears?). 

Reb only had the little details figured out, and shrugged off the big details. He can always ask for forgiveness later, but as of now? He was gonna have some fun. Besides? Hair dye can’t do too much harm… little did he know he’d soon regret that thought.

Reb figured this was as good of time as any to get the ball rolling. “Hey, dude, you’d look so cool with neon orange hair.” Reb spoke up, taking Kip’s attention away from the box of vinyl records.

“You think so?” Kip asked, running a finger through his hair, “I’ve been wanting to change up my look for a while now but never thought about changing my hair color.” 

“Oh, dude, it’d be so epic! I think I have some dye if you wanna—” 

“Yes.”

“A-are you sure—” 

“YES” 

“Well, if you insist.” Reb shrugged, holding back the smirk that wanted so desperately to spread across his face, “Neon orange it is.” 

It’s a wonder why Rod and Paul never stopped Reb when they finally noticed him adding the first round of bleach to Kip’s hair. Maybe they wanted to see it too, or maybe they figured it wasn’t their place to get involved. Regardless, by the time Kip woke up in the morning and hopped in the shower, his hair was gonna be the brightest orange he had ever seen. Maybe Reb had a death wish, maybe the fans would love it. There’s a lot of maybes… 

“Thanks a lot for doing this, man, you’re a good friend,” Kip spoke as Reb rinsed the dye out of Kip’s hair. 

“Anytime, Kip.”

The two had crashed on the couch while they waited for the singer’s hair to dry. It was past three in the morning after all. 

“WHAT THE HELL?” Kip’s loud shout woke the guitarist from his slumber, for a brief moment Reb had forgotten the events of last night, “REB WHAT DID YOU DO?!” 

Stepping out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist, Kip looked pissed off, but it was hard for Reb to take him seriously with the orange hair. Reb bursted into laughter, hunching over to hold his stomach as tears rolled down his cheeks. “This is the best gift I’ve given to myself, ever!” Reb laughed.

“You’re dead,” Kip glared at his friend, “You hear me? DEAD!”

[stars-kiss-the-sky]

so... i made a thing

and them i was like "let's try different colors!" so uh here *drops folder on your desk*

BAHAHAHAHAHA OMG I KEEP FORGETTING TO ANSWER THIS 😂😂😭😭

I can't tell if he looks better or worse with different colored hair, he's not bad looking by any means but also I'm seriously starting to wonder why he never took that leap of faith and dyed his hair something crazy 😂😂

I mean bands already gave him enough shit as is soooo that might have contributed to it but still I would pay so much money to see him with pink hair at a live show

[classicrockstoryteller]

Rbing this here from my main so I can find it easier (hopefully) for reference

the hair dye diaries (part 1)

Winger (Crackfic) Fanfic a/n: image for this fic is curtsey of Lynne (@electric--love) I combined two ideas onto this crackfic, the hair dye

[classicrockstoryteller]

until you come back to me

Robin Zander x Reader

A/N: I’ve never written for Cheap Trick before and wanted to try something new?

Italicized and indented are song lyrics!

Tags: @slashscowboyboots @lost-in-the-80s @shelickedthebeater

Warnings: some angst

Head resting against the cold glass of the window, you shivered a bit, feeling the chill of the air seep in. Thunder boomed in the distance, and lightning webbed in the sky. You’ve been sitting in the window alcove for two hours now. Doing nothing but watching as the weather continued to spiral outside. It’s been ages since a storm has been this bad. It was like even the Earth knew how to express your pain better than you did. Bottling it all up wasn’t healthy, or good, but you couldn’t help it.

It was a lot to take in, a lot to process. Break-ups are rough, when you love someone that much it’s hard to believe you’ll ever get over them. And you sincerely thought you never would with Robin.

Another painful sigh left your lips as your eyes followed a droplet of rain wash down the window. You missed him so much it hurt, but the way things ended that night left you feeling like there was nothing to fix. Insincere words that spawned from the heat of the moment were said. Hearts were broken. And your life changed in the blink of an eye.

“How are you holding up?” Zella, your roommate, asked with concern laced in her eyes, “You want to talk about it?”

Maybe talking would help. But you didn’t have a clue where to even start, or how, it was a fight that the two of you walked away from angry. Door slamming, tensions high. You said things you regretted and they kept eating away at you torturously. It was absolutely mental hell. You hardly slept the past few days, it was hard when your inner monologue seemed to get louder during the late hours of the night. So you’d lay awake, starting up at the ceiling in the dark letting that night play over in your mind. On an endless loop. You’d rather be at his place, in his arms, happy and in love. Instead, you’ve been breaking your heart more and more as the minute's tick by. 

“I don’t… I-I don’t know what to say…” You mumbled softly, looking at her before focusing your gaze back out the window, “Don’t know how to say it.” 

“Well, if you can’t say it to me… say it to him.” She said, “What’s the worst that could happen?” 

“It’s not that easy, Zel, I’m so scared that I’ve lost him for good.” 

“You two probably just need to talk it through.”

“You didn’t see the look in his eyes the way he left that night… or the way he slammed the door on his way out,” You looked back out the window, trying not to let the tears get the better of you, “I miss him so much, but there’s nothing I can do about it now.” 

“Nothing you can do? Y/N, are you even hearing yourself right now?” Zella asked in disbelief, “You’re gonna let everything you had go? Just like that?” 

“It goes both ways, Zel,” You shrugged, “I left him a few voicemails, he didn’t call back.” 

The room went silent for a moment, and you hoped she’d let it go. Luckily the phone rang and she left to answer it, leaving you to sit with your thoughts. 

“Well if you’re going to sit here and mope, at least we could listen to some music,” Zella said as she came back into the room a moment later, “It’s eerily quiet in here.” 

“What are you doing, Zel?” You raised a brow, knowing she was up to something. 

“Nothing.” She shrugged as she turned on the radio, glancing at you carefully as a song you never heard before began to play. 

Within a few seconds you figured out what she had done when Robin’s voice rang through the radio, tears finally slid down your cheeks. 

“Turn it off.”

“No,” Zella shook her head, “Just listen.” 

Biting your cheek you looked back out the window. Listening to the lyrics, your heart swelling at the lyrics. 

It’s like a ghost town without your love.

Like a ghost town without your love.

Like a ghost town, baby, can’t you see?

A ghost town, until you come back to me.

Ooh ooh till you come back to me.

Sighing, you stood from the alcove and reached for your jacket. 

“What are you doing?” Zella asked as you slipped your jacket over your shoulders and slipped your keys into your pocket. 

“What do you think?” 

Zella smiled, “Good luck, hun.”

It felt like hours as you made the short walk to Robin’s apartment down the road, doing your best to shake off the rain as you knocked on his door. 

Please be home, please be home. 

You stood there, getting ready to turn on your heel. Either he wasn’t home or he wasn’t going to answer the door. 

“Y/N?”

“Hey…”