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#rockstar au
wanderingpages · 19 hours ago
Will taryn and Larkin in rockstar ve end game? Also do you think you’ll ever do a chapter in their perspective?
Maybe? And I do have a bunch of stuff in taryns POV tbh but just so I have a reference when I write but idk maybe if u guys want it I’ll post it some time 🤷🏻‍♀️ idk
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ishouldtouchgrass · a day ago
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rock n’ roll / helen park x reader
reader pronouns: she/her
description: reader is a musician throwing a concert in berlin, helen park and a few of her friends attend the concert.
cw: tension, strong language, suggestive actions, mild homophobia
Helen didn’t know why she was standing in a concert crowd. She also didn’t know why she had dragged the entire safehouse with her, minus Bell and Lazar. The two of them didn’t really feel like coming along.
She stood there, as a beautiful woman stepped onto the stage. The crowd yelled and cheered. The woman took out an earpiece and listened to the yelling, nodding and smirking, almost cheering them on.
The British woman’s heart skipped a beat. These feelings weren’t normal for her. Especially for another woman.
“Adler?” She said quietly, turning towards the scarred American next to her.
“Yes, Park?” He said, taking a drag of his cigarette.
“Hey loverboy! Can I use your lighter?” The woman on stage yelled, shining a light directly on Adler. Helen held her breath as Adler nodded, and the woman jumped into the crowd. She got to Adler and took his lighter. She turned towards the British woman.
“Hey cutie, this your date for tonight?” She said, sticking a cigarette in her mouth, and lighting it.
Helen had an ability to see her outfit fully now. The woman wore a stained white tank top, black skinny jeans, a torn up leather belt, and combat boots. A red and black checkered guitar strap held the beautiful black, electric guitar, slung across her beautiful, yet handsome, body, shining under the remaining light that was used to highlight Adler.
“No answer? Too busy admiring me?” The woman continued, laughing.
Frank and Alex thought this was hilarious, and the two of them nearly fell over with laughter, behind Helen.
“Oh my- I’m sorry love. And no, he’s not my date. Never.” The Brit continued, smiling nicely towards the German woman, who winked at Park, before running and jumping back on stage, holding the guitar across her body.
“Alright darlings, I’m not the main show tonight, just introducing, but I’m gonna excite the fuck out of you, in one way or another!” She yelled, staring directly into Helen’s eyes, as she said the second part of her sentence.
Helen’s heart fluttered, and she heard Alex whispering to both Frank,
“Is she looking at Helen, Adler or us?”
Frank whispered back
“I think she’s into Helen, man.”
Helen heard a small hum from Alex before the woman on stage began to set up her guitar equipment. She tests a few strums of her guitar and tunes it a bit.
“Alright, my first song is merely a cover. So, it’s not super interesting.” She said, offering a smile to the crowd, and a wink at Helen.
The crowd lets out some cheers and yells and the first note hums through the small building.
Those first notes turn into a song everyone knows, Bohemian Rhapsody. Frank yells “YOURE SO COOL!!” And Alex hoops and hollers, while Hudson stands there, stoic.
Adler and Sims don’t exactly react too much.
The woman plays a few of her own songs, which bless everyone’s ears, her talent was as limitless as her beauty. Calling her pretty, was conflicting, she was equally handsome.
“Alright guys, last song for me, before my friends come up and take the show. I’m gonna be covering Cherry Bomb by The Runaways. It’s a song I’ve been listening to a lot, and I really admire those girls. They’ve been through a lot. So here I go!” The woman announced.
“Alex, Frank, We should go up the front.” Helen suggested to the two of them.
“Why? Gonna seduce the woman up there?” Frank exclaimed, laughing.
“Maybe. But let’s go. These icecubes ruin the energy.” Helen replied, leading the two men up to the front of the crowd, across from the stage.
As the woman was singing, she looked down at Helen and smirked.
Helen noted this and felt her body have a warm, tingling feeling.
The woman neared the end of the song, and was singing through the third verse, the crowd excited. Everyone was singing along, besides Hudson.
Suddenly the world seemed to slow as the rocker neared Helen.
“I'll give you somethin' to live for, have ya, grab ya, ‘til you're sore!”
The sinful words escaped the rocker’s words as she looked Helen up and down, rolling her back across the stage, in an enticing fashion, without breaking eye contact with Helen.
Helen felt her stomach flip as the woman continued to grab her attention.
It seemed like forever, until the song was over. The woman gave everyone her exit, and suddenly Helen had an idea. She approached the security guards on the side of the stage, who began to say something in German, but then the rocker woman appeared, taking over.
“Hey! Let the cutie through!”
Helen smiled at the name and walked through, immediately being held by the rockstar. The two didn’t have to walk awhile, before Helen was in the musicians lounge with only the woman.
She lit up a cigarette and smiled at Helen.
“So, my names Y/N, what about you, darling?” The rockstar said, her own name rolling off of her tongue delicately.
“My name’s Helen. Helen Park.” Suddenly regret filled her. What if this “rocker” was an enemy? Oh shit.
“Uh, you alright?” The musician asked, leaning forward.
“Hm? Yeah. Just thinking.”
“About what?”
“Hm, nothing much.” Helen replied, leaning back, smirking at the woman, who stood up, approaching Helen.
“You know,” She started, leaning over Helen.
Her voice lowered into a husky whisper.
“If there wasn’t a crowd I would’ve taken you on that fuckin’ stage.” She made a kissy noise, before taking a long drag of her cigarette, and breathing all of the smoke into Helen’s mouth.
The two were merely connected by the nicotine and smoke, filling the room around them.
“Hm, I’ve gotta go. Call me, will ya?” The rockstar suggested, putting her cigarette in the ashtray sitting on the small table next to the couch the two were previously on.
Helen nodded, taking a paper with the musicians number and sticking it into her pocket.
The woman hummed with approval.
“Good girl, now go with your friends. They’re probably searching for you.” The rockstar winked, and promptly disappeared.
Helen felt the paper in her pocket.
Sometimes every agent needs a distraction.
Sometimes those distractions turn into a lot more.
“Helen?” A voice echoed. Shit.
“Yeah, yeah?” She said, exiting the lounge room, and seeing Alex.
“Frank and Hudson sent me to look for you. Were you with...” His eyes suddenly went above Helen’s shoulders, examining the rocker down the hall, checking out Helen, very, intensely.
“Nevermind.” He finishes, walking back into the crowd with Helen.
“Oh, okay.” Helen says.
That damned rockstar woman never left Helen’s head. Too beautiful to leave.
Helen called her later that night.
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oneirataxia-girl · a day ago
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Here's a small oneshot for the lovely @lifeofkaze! And also a big thank you to @night-rhea for letting me use both their character and AU for this fic!
It was a normal day at the Khanna Shop when the bell on the door tinged, signifying the arrival of a customer.
Alvina Arcane-Zheng barely looked up at the new person, but huffed an amused laugh as she, and the individual seemed to come to the exact realization that the cafe was full, if the slumped posture of the girl was anything to go by.
While ignoring the chatter of the people around her, Alvina slipped her earphones on, cursing her long black hair for tangling up as she did so, and started to listen to her recordings from last night.
“Hey.”
Alvina looked up, meeting a pair of blue eyes.
“Yes?” Alvina barely caught the annoyed expression on her face, the girl would have to make do with a slightly ruder attitude.
Not that Alvina cared or anything, it’s not like anyone would sit with her.
“Can I sit here? All the other tables are full.”
Alvina must have looked surprised (and she had a right to) because the girl quickly added. “Of course, if you’re waiting for someone then it’s okay, I just thought-”
“No,” Alvina found herself saying, much to her surprise. “It’s alright.”
Without giving the blond girl a second glance, Alvina deftly pushed her books and other things into her bag, zipping it shut as “Lizzie” (that’s what she called herself) placed her drink on the table and sat down.
Alvina returned to work, carefully examining her work to make sure there were no mistakes, in doing so, Alvina would have forgotten that she had a person sharing her table, had it not been for Night placing a bagel on her table.
“I’m proud of you Vina!” They wrote on their notepad, Alvina, confused, tipped her head in question and Night gestured for her to take off her headphones.
“Looks like you’ve met Lizzie! She’s a drummer for a band, be nice to her, eh?” Night patted her shoulder. “The bagel’s from Rowan, they say keep your chin up!”
Alvina started as Night pranced back into the coffee-addicted fray, then turned her stare to Lizzie.
Alvina peeked at the bagel, it would be nice to take a break, after all, she had only a few more bars to refine then she could upload her cover-
“Aren’t you hungry?” Lizzie asked, eyes on the bagel.
Alvina raised an eyebrow. “Do you like bagels with cheese and smoked salmon?”
Lizzie recoiled, blue eyes wide at the black-haired girl as Alvina shrugged. “Rowan makes me these when they think I’m stressed.” She looked at Lizzie. “Do you want a bite? I’m not that hungry.”
Lizzie swallowed audibly but nodded her assent. Alvina, grinning slightly, split the bagel into two halves, crumbs flying everywhere as she did so.
Lizzie took the proffered half, examing it before taking a bite, Alvina, on the other hand, snapped her headphones back on, this time with half a bagel in her hand and the volume of her computer slightly lower.
Night waved at her from the other end of the cafe, usually, Alvina would just nod back, but this time, she followed Lizzie’s example and waved back.
Maybe, having this Lizzie girl as a friend won’t be so bad.
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daegukillers · a day ago
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R0CKBAND | two
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𝗣𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 : Rockstar!Jungkook x Y/N!fan
𝗚𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲 : strangers (not really right now ) to lovers in some ways, more idol x fan dynamic, jungkook is kinda whipped in some ways? y/n is so cute and NERVOUS they are just into each other but..... !!!!/ jungkook is smoking btw + hiding themes
𝗧𝗼 𝗽𝘂𝘁 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗶𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗺𝗼𝗼𝗱 : Heaven and Back ( Chase Atlantic )
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Wednesday had come so quickly to the eyes of y/n, who despite a certain panic, now counted only the hours that remained to her before regaining Jungkook. Having exchanged their numbers six days ago now, the messages which were being shy and awkward had quickly turned into long conversations, fed on questions that were simply trivial to the most philosophical. The girl loved to talk to the rocker, without really suspecting that he also liked to receive the little messages of his adoration.
It was the day before yesterday that y/n had this pleasant awakening, around midnight, to receive a call from Jungkook who seemed to live like a vampire since he had the particularity of being much more active and more present at night than during the day. Y/n had picked up so awkwardly that night that Jungkook even heard her swear under her breath as she dropped her phone and lost it in her duvet.
That night they had talked about absolutely everything as absolutely nothing, as they could do by written messages, but with a depth which was still unknown to them; a transition from writing to speaking that put y/n in a trance.
"Don't forget to come Wednesday, I'll wait for you."
The voice of the rocker had sounded as if this one asked as an almost forbidden request, while having this charisma which put the girl lower than earth, metaphorically curling her heart by a too full of passion, for her passion.
Scribbling on her blank notebook, y/n forbade herself a possible sigh that could escape from her lips. She had an hour to go, an hour before she could find the rocker in the same bar but on a Wednesday instead of their usual Friday. Her mind left the earth to marvel at something that embarked on an addiction to see, see again, think, rethink Jungkook as hovering by the best drug that was the rocker. She could no longer hear anything by her side, nor the hissing and disordered voice of the professor, himself annoyed by what he seemed to be saying over and over again, and the girl continued to deliriously deliciously, while a sweet passion waited in reality.
She was so delusional, exhilarating and excellent, that she didn't notice one of her classmate watching her out of the corner of his eye, half sympathetic to the state of abandonment into which y/n had plunged herself. In a thoughtful and unpredictable action, the same classmate took care to pull on the sleeve of the sweater of the girl, bringing the student out of her ecstasy. Y/n didn't have any real friends ; what was the use of creating a bond that we only nourished from nine o'clock to five or nineteen o'clock in order to forget each other in a mutually and shared agreement?
- You don't really want to be there, I'm wrong, isn't it?
Swallowing her uncomfortable shyness, the girl preferred to nod very gently, bringing back her arm which had been used by his interlocutor to fool her attention, a little more towards him.
- Not too much but ... no choice ...
- Sure. Namjoon and you?
- Y/n.
- Not bad. Your name fits you well.
Smile, was more than enough for y/n to thank Namjoon who stared benignly. At first glance, the girl could think he was more bigger than his previous stature, a street-style style and an aura that seemed to attest to great humility, caring for others. Y/n examined his face quickly, noting and even appreciating that each of his features matched perfectly.
- You have dimples.
- I know it but thank you for reminding me, it's nice I should have a friend like you.
The tall chestnut man refrained from laughing at the vainly useful speech of the girl who no longer had nothing else to say except to feel the burn on her whole face for the umpteenth time.
- Otherwise, far from the desire to invite me into your life but you don't have to stay you know it?
She was not obliged, it is true, since y/n forced herself to stay. Her irises were shaking with an uncertain feeling, because she really wanted to go and run to the rocker who was putting her in a mad ecstasy. His name alone had the gift of emotionally revolutionizing y/n. She was giving Namjoon an equivocal look; a look that tried to get another look out of its deepest entrenchments. And suddenly, hand in contact with her notebook, y/n ended up ejecting all rational thoughts, jostling sheets and pens in her cloth bag, all in a rushed uproar and adrenaline rush. Namjoon watched the girl go off with broken sticks, free.
Y/n was running, as if to fuel the adrenaline in every area of ​​her brain. She was running, losing all the breath she kept as much as possible and held back even when it came to the rocker, his jet-red hair that waltzed and whirled in an artificial wind. At seven o'clock, the streets swelled with disconcerting ease, but the girl managed to run between this mass that she would have avoided at usual times. She ran, physically spread, sprinted in this immense mass, herself having to adapt to the immense mass that constituted : her clothes that were much too big and her bag. Y/n, in a sudden burst, awkwardly grabbed her phone, dialing Jungkook's number in monstrous automatism ; who had answered within a second of the call being made.
"Y/n? "
- I'm coming!
The voice of girl was cut between each breath due to her mad rush. The black haired boy listened to the adorable girl lose her breath, lose her sanity by exhausting herself even more by calling him, losing her head because she was running towards him without even knowing that y/n had already lost her head forever ; because of him.
“Don't run like that you'll get tired-”
- It's oka-ay..
Jungkook didn't understand where y/n was going in her small head, just hearing her breath made him a little worried. Why did she need to lose her breath for someone being just someone's idol?
If it was just only that, he thought quickly.
"Darling you're going to die, catch your breath."
"You will give it back to me ... my breath. Will you?"
The girl gazed at where she was, grateful and reassured that she was close, soon close to rediscovering the very source of her extraordinary ecstasy. While slowing her pace, she let her gaze travel on the path she took all these Friday nights in order to be certain to arrive much faster. The cobblestone ground did nothing to help her move faster; a single misstep could cause her body to fall. Y/n had arrived, turning on him for a brief moment as if to put her thoughts back in place and then;
He was there,
her passion there, more present than ever, in front of her, seeming to have hurried out of this bar of the head to head of the heart when he saw the girl coming from inside, a cigarette in the hand that begged to be turned on. The rocker was still so charismatic, y/n couldn't catch her breath yet. Jungkook gave her a pleasant body ache because seeing him after six days was like talking to him for the first time, a second time.
" I told you I'll wait. ''
The rocker walked towards the student, making an imposing gait in auspiciousness of the girl that contracted all her limbs in a sudden feeling of discomfort to see him this close again. And indeed, Jungkook was tackling a snarling face now, grabbing y/n's wrist . At this contact, she wanted to surrender to her sentimental wrath but did not have time to be able to do so since her eyes were confronting those of Jungkook.
- You, want me to give you back your breath yeah? I'll give it back to you, be sure to take it all.
Quickly letting go of y/n's wrist, the rocker took out his lighter and handed it to the girl who immediately understood that she had to light the cigarette which was now placed between Jungkook's lips.
Light up, Jungkook's eyes said, as y/n struggled to breath even more.
And so, Jungkook drew a first slat, a first and a long one of this toxic product, laying his gaze on his adoration who adore him the most, able to see her through the curly locks. Jungkook hadn't exhaled all that poison, he wasn't planning on doing it. He had said that it would be that fucking day that he would devour his due. He had said that the first day he catched her under his gaze when she was processing who he was and who she wanted him to be for her.
No more no less, a hand behind her neck.
No more no less, he had just put his lips on those of y/n.
Neither more nor less, he devoured her lips, his mind and smell misty but so sweet to stop tasting it.
Y/n' s hands trembled, clinging to the sleeves of the rocker, who accentuated their kiss by pressing his hand on the girl's neck and his other hand holding his cigarette which smoked on its own. Y/n was suffocating while gradually catching his breath.
It was like drowning while continuing to breathe ; she would die fully stargazing while being totally alive.
It was cliché, but if it was cliché with her passion to kiss like this in the middle of the street, then it wasn't in y/n's eyes anymore. She had caught all her breath back...
- I hope you took it all back, petal
... but she wanted to lose it again, in an endless forever with him. He kissed her until she had enough to live, the rocker's cigarette nearing the end.
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IM SO SORRY GUYSSSSSKLSSL no srsly im so sorrrrry i was supposed to post it yesterday but i got some issues but yeaah im here and delivering the part two of rockband!!!!! don't hesitate to put comments etc i hope y'all had have or will have a good day btw :)
nb : no proof read, english is not my first language !
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namjoonscvmbucket · 2 days ago
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death wish | JJK (18+)
❀one-shot❀
❥ pairing: rockstar!jungkook X groupie!reader // black!reader
❥ genre: smut
❥ summary: “quickie” with tatted and pierced jungkook backstage…
❥ !!warnings!!: none
❥other warnings: “b¡tch” is used a lot, name calling, kinda toxic, oral sex, sexual intercourse, spitting, choking, tbh idk just some nasty sex 🤥
❥notice: none
❥ word count: 2.5k
-author’s note: *rocks back and forth* yeaaahhhhhh all of the members looked so good during muster but this…… nawl. I had to quickly write about JK with this look and put it out🏃🏽‍♀️. Did any of you watch muster and do y’all need l1nks for day 2?? Some Twitter accounts will be updating them.
-I didn’t know how to end this so 😖. But I hope you enjoy this little something before I become back active😭💗💗💗!!!
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“If you think I really want to do this…”
“Says the bitch that dragged me into the supply closet cause she was jealous, huh?”
“Bitch?” You genuinely started laughing in Jungkook’s face as he was standing over you trying to get your top off, ignoring the jealous part. “Your dick’s not even big enough to be calling me out my name.”
“It’s big enough to get you fucked up on it every time,” he responded breathlessly against your lips, pressing his erection against your thigh, his hips trapping you in place against a shelf next to a rack of some of the clothes that were already worn tonight. “Bitch…” he called you again. You moaned this time at the nickname and connected your lips with his.
Your bra was popped off, and Jungkook’s ringed and tatted fingers started rubbing and pulling at your nipples. You were whimpering against his mouth and squeezing your eyes shut in pain and pleasure when he pinched them.
“Kooook,” you whined and slapped his hands away when he didn’t stop. He laughed like it was funny. He knew they were extra sensitive. “Asshole.”
You both started pushing at each other and hand wrestling. Jungkook was obviously stronger, grabbing both your arms and forcing them down to your lap. He used this to his advantage to bend his head and “kiss them better” like you were a child that had gotten a boo boo. He played too much.
“Oh, c’mon…” he let up on the joke at the appearance of your pout, sucking on your neck to get you back into it. You turned your head in fake irritation. “You know you like that shit.”
“I like it when you’re not talking,” you said back.
Jungkook moved to your line of sight so that you could focus on him, his piercing shifting up along with his taunting eyebrow. “Shut me up then.”
He was always all up in your face with that sexy ass metal in his eyebrow. And all up in everyone else’s face with it, too… You’d bite that shit off if you could; he was annoying you.
“With my pussy, yeah. If it’s the one you want to eat…”
Jungkook had to stop for a second to think about your petty remark. “Ohhhh,” he chortled at you with a smirk when he realized. “This is what you’re mad and salty about?”
“Mad? All I said was eat me out,” you made a funny face, pushing on his shoulders to do your bidding and, again, ignoring him calling out your jealousy. He shook his head while laughing, but started getting on his knees and unbuttoning your jeans to do what you wanted. You were such entertainment compared to all his other hookups after concerts.
“I can’t eat other pussy now?” He asked once he got your pants and panties over your ankles.
No, he could not. It was irritating seeing all the girls next to you fawning over him and his slutty ass outfit, his pretty ink, and the bold piercing in his eyebrow. Not to forget that a particular fan couldn’t shut up about his tongue motions and how good he was at actually using it.
Jungkook already had figured you said that, because you’d heard from Jessica and like… everyone else on the floor. Jessica had a big mouth and always flaunted her times with the rockstar like other girls. Jungkook’s pussy eating skills were the talk of the night in between songs. Apparently you didn’t like others getting the same “VIP treatment” as you. Since you were the boys’ favorite groupie.
“I didn’t say all that, but if that’s what you’re getting from it, then…”
Jungkook hummed at your little game you were playing. “At least your jealousy isn’t the slashing tires and breaking windows kind. Or smashing my guitar. That happened before.”
“Not jealous.”
“So I could do it again?”
“Did not say that either. And I am still contemplating on smashing your guitar.”
“So what about you and Taehyung then?” Jungkook questioned about his band mate while taking off your shoes. “I should be jealous that you two are fucking? Or the others?”
Jungkook had literally met you in that way. He had no clue who you were when you walked out of that backroom like you hadn’t just fucked his best friend/bandmate in there. You two were still active from what he knows.
“But I don’t suck his dick… anymore.”
Jungkook didn’t mean for his “good for you” to come out with such attitude. He couldn’t have been so easily riled up at the fact you and his best friend were still getting it on… No way.
You caught on to the tone but didn’t push, because he would keep the talking going for forever. So you ordered, “Eat me out.”
He wasn’t done with the attitude though. “Is your pussy good enough for me to?”
You had no time for the arguing today, although getting each other pissed off resulted in even better sex so you played along.
You had so much pride when you leaned back on the shelf of accessories and bent your leg at the knee, exposing your goodies to his face. You tilted your head when he bit his lip in obvious want. “It is.”
He grabbed your thigh to push and spread it further to see more in the dark closet. He hated how he loved you like this, all exposed to him, how he loved the way your privates looked, how he loved how good you felt. And, yeah, it didn’t help that you had good pussy. Not that he would tell you that and reveal his fixation with it and with you, a groupie.
“You’re still a bitch.”
You fake pouted, trying to hide your smirk because you were getting to him. You even rubbed on his inked right arm through the slits in the sleeves for added effect. “But I’m wet...” you whined.
Jungkook kept eye contact with you as he brought his face closer, breath brushing over your wetness as he said, “Don’t you get wet for everyone?”
You wanted to slap him. Because not a slut slut-shaming a slut.
“Well, yeah, that’s obviously why I’m wet for you,” you agreed.
Jungkook kept his mouth quiet this time, except for when his tongue touched your folds and a long groan rumbled against your core. He was louder than you for a second as he started, eyes rolling closed and his lips moving to makeout with your sex. Your leg kicked out and your head bumped back against the shelf at the sensation. He was kissing your pussy like he was making love to it. And then he added the tongue—
“Ohh my goddd,” you moaned out, and your eyes rolled back, too, your hand sliding in his freshly cut, dark hair, nails scratching over his undercut. You got this treatment a lot, but it was pissing you off that other girls were experiencing it.
Jungkook pulled away to rub at your brown nub softly, remembering to give it attention. He suddenly spat on it to provide his own wetness, and you were seeing stars when he gazed up at you with furious eyes and put his mouth back on you, tongue lathing your clit into a French kiss. You couldn’t hold the stare. Your head fell back into a gut wrenching moan.
“You dick…” you managed. It was your own way of praise. He was really fucking you up, and you hated slash loved it. And then you couldn’t hold back your orgasm either. Came in his mouth with his face pressed to your cunt so he could get all of it. He was laughing at you.
You decided it was time for you to leave before you got too much into it and started feigning for the rockstar all over again. Plus, you only wanted him to taste your pussy to remind him it was better than Jessica’s or whatever other groupies he hooked up with. But he wasn’t letting you leave that closet. No. Jungkook had you up against the shelf with your legs pushed up as far as they could go before you could make an excuse and get away from him.
“You know I’m about to fuck the bitch out of you…” he mumbled against your lips, knowing that’s why you were trying to gather your bearings. “Is that why you’re trying to run?”
“F-Fuck you.”
“Fuck me?” He smirked at your attempt to insult him once he got his cargo pants down. You so lied when you said he wasn’t big enough to call you out your name. “You’re so bitchy when you’re needy for me and I don’t give you what you want fast enough, aren’t you?” You whimpered helplessly when he rubbed some of your cum out of your entrance and onto the head of his shaft as lubricant. “Gonna make you my little cumdump. If anyone hasn’t already…”
You weren’t even about to say anything to that comment. You just wanted to get really disrespectful with him back, but he caught you gathering up the spit in your mouth. Your face was between his fingers before you could obtain enough. “Spit on me,” he gripped harder. “I dare you.”
You blinked up at him with those false lashes. For a second, Jungkook remembered when he’d first seen you at one of their shows, sporting braids, the hoops, and the falsies that you wear almost every damn day. The imagery of you with cum on your face and lashes after he fucked your face in the backseat of his BMW crossed his mind, too.
He’d met you through Taehyung, but then the other members had all gotten a piece of you after he boasted about it.
To have someone like you all to himself… He wished.
But then he flinched out of his thoughts.
Cause you spit on him.
It was directed at his lips. He could feel the substance sitting there. Your chest was moving up and down while waiting for his next move, mouth trying to breathe in as much air as his fingers were letting.
Jungkook licked over the spit on his lips, not bothering to give you much energy with his words anymore. “It’s cute that you have a death wish.” And then he plunged himself into you.
If some other rock band wasn’t performing, your scream would have been heard. Passerbys would think you were being murdered. You had no regrets in being loud and yelling out Jungkook’s name. He was pounding into you hard, the pain from his thickness as pleasurable as the pleasure.
“But you wanted it,” Jungkook jeered at how you already couldn’t take it through gritted teeth as he spoke between thrusts, calling you “such a fucking bitch” again. You could only manage conversation in whiny and pitched moans, your hands going to the sliver of skin of his waist his detached shirt was showing. He really had the nerve to wear a fucking crop top tonight…
Jungkook grabbed your hand and slid it further up his shirt to let you feel up on his toned stomach. The man liked showing off, but not really being touched. You were only able to relish in the soft and hardness of his honey skin before he grabbed your attention back by the neck. There were tears prickling at your waterline with how he wasn’t showing you any mercy for your bitchyness and disrespect tonight.
Your stomach clenched as you came, and you thought Jungkook was going to leave it at that when he pulled out, punish you by not filling you up. But he yanked his top off over his head leaving the chains on, spun you around, barely let you get a hold of the shelf before slamming into you again, and wrapped his tatted arm around your neck as he fucked you from the back. The silver rings felt like they were cutting into your throat.
“So tight around my cock, fuck, ________,” he moaned into your ear as he pressed his hot body closer to your backside, his left hand splaying across your lower stomach to rub at your clit. You were already tensing from being overstimulated, but he was rubbing another orgasm out of you. You could hold out. You wanted him to cum in you.
He was pulling your neck back and thrusting into you how he wanted, your body arched and poised for the taking. Tears were streaming down your cheeks by time you came again, Jungkook fitting himself deep within you to make sure you got all of the semen he had to offer you.
While calming down, he kissed down your neck and wrapped both arms around your midsection to pinch at your tits to irritate you again. Childish. But you just got all the energy you had to piss him off fucked out of you, so you didn’t feel like talking back. Your legs bout buckled on you when you tried to stand completely back up and almost knocked into the shelf. Jungkook caught you in his arms.
“Sleepy time?” He joked at how spent you were and your labored breathing like he wasn’t about to pass out himself. You could barely keep your wet eyes open. He chuckled as he carefully used his fingers to push one of the inner corners of your lashes back into place. “I don’t think you’ll be fucking any of the others.”
“Yoongi wanted to cook for me later tonight, so…” you said, reaching for your clothes on the floor. “He looked good on stage, too. I might be up and ready for another round with him.”
Jungkook tongued his cheek at that as he pulled his pants up and put his shirt back on even though he was going to have an outfit change soon. And to think he was only going to fuck you tonight. Now he was going to have to fuck someone else to distract himself so he wouldn’t have to hear you and Yoongi back at the hotel.
Jungkook’s energy shifted the entire vibe of the closet. You didn’t care. He was probably going to fuck Jessica later. It was barely a minute after you both finished, and you were sure you two could taste each other’s jealousy and bitterness.
Instead, Jungkook wasn’t going to let it end like this this time.
“How about,” he started when he finished getting dressed. “I cook for you, fuck you into my hotel bed, fuck you on the patio, in the shower, and probably even on the damn coffee table… and it’ll fix that attitude right up.”
“Says the one with the main attitude,” you scoffed. “You sure you want Jessica to see me getting in your car tonight?”
“I clearly don’t care,” he dragged you closer to him by the hips. “Because a quick fuck isn’t going to satisfy me like how a full night with you will.”
You rolled your eyes at his cheap words. But nonetheless you liked him catering to you. You didn’t want to show you cared that much. So you said your emotionless, “Whatever.”
“Plus, I wanna fuck your pretty face again,” he cheeses with bunny teeth, his eyebrow piercing crinkling with the smile lines on his face. “And yes, in the back of my BMW…”
——————————♡♡♡——————————
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bakugousbrat · 2 days ago
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La Di Die
Summary: Drummer Bakugou and Guitarist Kirishima. You and the boys decided it was time to go on tour, so why not start now?
Purple: Reader
Orange: Bakugou
Red: Kirishima
Green: Reader and Kirishima
Blue: Reader and Bakugou
Tags: @bakugosbratx @sunflowers-rae @minninugget @miraclecherryblossomsblog @little-fairy-forest @gazelle-des-pres @jazzylove @bakugous-mamas @unicornlover25 @boooooooooom @kirishimaisthatbitch @pizzashapedmess @cloudsinthecosmos @enlightedfairyteller @realkatsukibakugou
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You nervously stood on stage. The crowd in front of you. Why did you want to be a pop star? Why did it have to be you? Taking a deep breath in, you stared at Kirishima. He gave you a smile and as soon as he did you he strummed his guitar.
Okay.
Does it rain in California?
Only dream I’ve ever known
Will they love you when you’re famous?
Swear you’ll never be alone
The crowd swayed with you.
Hope someday I’ll find Nirvana
I’ll be looking down below
I’ll be dead at twenty-seven
Only nine more years to go
The background singers began chiming in, their gentle voices only barely heard over the crowds wooing.
I got a bully in my head
Fake love, fake friends
I was broken when you left
You reached your hand out, as if you could feel him one more time.
Now you hear me everywhere you go
You heard Bakugou bang on his drums, your nerves calmed down a lot. His drums were pure magic.
La da di, oh la di da
Gonna be a superstar
Be the girl you used to know
Playing on the radio
La da di, oh la di da
You spotted familiar faces who would come support you at small shows. They sang along with you.
Loving me is suicide
I’m a dreamer, I’m on fire
La da di, run for your life
Oh-oh. Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, ah, ah, ah, ah
Yeah, yeah
Said I’m gonna be a rockstar, yeah yeah yeah
You began dancing along to Kiri’s verse.
Told her I don’t want a war, yeah yeah yeah
I don’t see me going far, yeah yeah yeah
That’s what happens when I fall apart
All of me wants all of you
Kiri looked at you, then back to the crowd. They were loving every bit of this performance. You mouthed some of his lyrics; actually having fun on stage.
But I’m far away and I can’t choose
Got a lotta lessons that I need to learn
Got a lotta lessons
He began strumming again. His fingers were as smooth as silk against the wooden instrument.
My depression and misconceptions
And all the mistakes that lead to lessons
Bakugou began going crazy on the drums, once he noticed Kiri looking at you again.
My depression, it makes me question
My depression, it makes me question!
Kiri grabbed his mic, walking towards you, staring you in the eye as you both sang together. He smiled at you.
La da di, oh la di da
Gonna be a superstar
Be the girl you used to know
Playing on the radio
La da di, oh la di da
Loving me is suicide
I’m a dreamer, I’m on fire
La da di, run for your life
Oh, oh. Oh, oh, oh, oh
Kiri leaned on your shoulder, the guitar back in his hands as he played gently.
Does it rain in California
Where the angels cry for me?
Want the drugs that taste like candy
And blood diamonds on my teeth
AHHHH!!
You looked at him, and he looked back. Sweat all on his face and t-shirt.
La da di, oh la di da
Gonna be a superstar
(Yn) Be the girl you used to know
Playing on the radio
La da di, oh la di da
Loving me is suicide
I’m a dreamer, I’m on fire
~~~~
You turned to see Bakugou singing in the microphone, his eyes closed. You could feel the emotion in his voice.
La da di, run for your life
You looked back at the crowd, the lights from their phones making you smile even brighter. Maybe this wasn’t so bad after all.
Yeah, I’m gonna be a superstar
They went insane, you smiled before placing the microphone back on its stand. You turned to look at Bakugou, his chest heaving in and out. The sweat became more and more violent against his soft skin. He smiled halfway but it dropped when he saw Kirishima grabbing your hand smiling as he raised it for the crowd. Bakugou huffed before placing his sticks down and leaving.
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igotnotype · 3 days ago
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I KNOW there will be a loooot of rockstar au fics about 210613 Jeon Jungkook. I JUST KNOW
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cherryblossom-chopper · 3 days ago
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Rockstar AU 🎸 Caesar Edition
Sweat dripped down Caesar's face, threatening to streak through his makeup. He stood, arms stretched out, and his head tilted up toward the stage lights. The lights glared down at him, and he smiled. The cries of his fans were near-deafening; it made him shiver.
Caesar took a deep bow before he and his band disappeared from the view of the stage lights. Caesar manager was waiting for him, with a pleased look on their face.
"That was a great performance, you beautiful clown boy," his manager patted him on the back, then immediately regretted. The manager grimaced and checked their phone for the time. Then, finally, they sighed with relief, "You've got time to change and touch up your makeup. That cloak really makes you sweat."
Caesar side-eyed his manager and nodded, "Sure, boss."
Caesar was quick to change clothes and fix his streaky makeup. He clicked his tongue, making an irritated 'tsk' at the sound of someone banging on his dressing room door.
"Game time," he gave himself a final once over in the mirror. Upon leaving his dressing room, Caesar had his manager lead him to the meet and greet.
Even before entering the room, he could hear the chatter of his fans; the sound made him grin. The conversation grew into excited shouting and some high-pitched squealing as Caesar stepped into view.
As soon as he settled into his seat, he started shaking hands and signing shirts, posters, plushies, and more, till the ink in his pens ran dry.
Caesar always signed with a purple glitter plan, despite his manager imploring him not to.
"It creates character," he had said once.
Caesar reached for a pen and frowned as he grasped air. He looked over his shoulder and requested more of his classic purple pens. Someone under his mangers employs scurried off to get him some more, leaving him to make small talk with a fan standing in front of him.
He couldn't help but grin at the mesmerized look on their face. That star-struck expression always made him feel confident. Caesar leaned forward and looked up at them. As their eyes met, the fan had a blush creeping onto their face.
They had a chibi plushie of Caesar clutched in their hands, as well as a t-shirt, a poster, and a vinyl record of his most recent album.
"You seem like quite the fan," he said and gestured for them to set their items on his table, "Once I get some more pens, I can sign all of this for you."
As they were setting down their new merch, Caesar noticed that the fan kept glancing at him-- well above him.
"What's so interesting?" he couldn't help but smirk.
"Are your horns real?" the fan blurted out; clearly, their nerves were getting the better of them.
Caesar laughed. He couldn't help it. That cute expression, coupled with the question, was just too much for him.
"They're as real as you and me," he said. A devilish grin played on his lips. Then, while making deep eye contact, he leaned close to his little super-fan. "Would you like to touch them?" he asked, his voice low enough so others in line wouldn't hear.
His fan nearly squawked at his offer. Their eyes wide, and what was once a rosy dusting was now a red tidal wave on their face. They began fidgeting, "Yes- I mean- uh-!"
Caesar laughed again. How cute. It wasn't often that he had fun like this.
He was about to tease them some more, but someone finally returned with several more of his preferred glitter pens. He was quick to start signing the merch. "What's your name?" he asked as he began to sign the poster.
"(Name)," they were smiling again.
Good. Caesar liked to see their smile.
He grabbed one of the fliers near him and scribbled his phone number on it. He pondered it for a moment, determining if this was a mistake. Still, since it was a secondary number, he could rid himself of the number if problems arose.
"Here (Name). Text me sometime," he folded up the flier and placed it in their hand. He held a finger up to his lips and smiled, "Let's keep this a secret."
(Name) nodded a larger-than-life smile on their face. Caesar watched as they left his table, musing to himself about how fun (Name) would be.
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flamencodiva · 3 days ago
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Bottom of the Bottle 1 - Six Months Later
Description: Dean was at the peak of stardom until his world came crashing down. Can he find his way back to the top?
Word Count: 7435
Pairing: Rockstar!Dean Winchester x Reader (Eventual)
Warnings for entire series: Smut (oral female and male receiving, P in V, Threesomes, Fingering, Orgies) Fluff, Angst, Violence, Language, Mentions of Drug use, Drinking, Mentions of Death, Slow Burn, a smidge of Fake Dating.
A/N: Written for @spndeanbingo​
Square Filled: Meet Cute
A/N 2: Song Lyrics by Metric: Give me Sympathy
Beta’d by: @wonder-cole
Aesthetic by: @firefly-graphics
Divider by: @talesmaniac89
Series Masterlist
Main Masterlist
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Dean walked out of prison after being locked up for six months. That was the deal that was cut. There was no proof the drugs were his, and with that many people in the hotel suite, anyone could have hidden it in his bag. But because it was still possession, Dean went to prison if he would voluntarily go on probation for a year and not leave the state of Kansas. His home in Kansas City was taken from him, The Impala (he learned from his brother) was taken by his father. He froze as he adjusted his bag over his shoulder. He expected to see his brother, Sam, with his car, but instead, his eyes fell on his father in a large pickup truck. 
“You have got to be kidding me,” he mumbled, walking towards his awaiting father, “Sam was supposed to pick me up in the Impala.” 
“Did you really think I was going to let you have that car with how they got you on a drug possession charge?” His father, John Winchester, asked, crossing his arms over his chest. “From what Sam tells me, you don’t have a place to stay. They took everything except the Impala.” Running his hand across his face, he looked at his son and sighed, “Look, the way I see it, you have two choices. You can either come back to work in the garage with me and stay in your old room following my rules, or you can fend for yourself.” John said, pausing to look at his son, “in fending for yourself, I will make sure you never get your hands on the Impala ever again.” 
“You can't do that,” Dean growled, “It’s my car!” 
“Your car, that I spent 2 grand on getting it out of the impound lot and safe at Bobby's yard!” John roared.  
“You’re such an ass!” Dean chuckled in frustrated annoyance, “I can go live with Sam.” 
 “So you’re going to go live with Sam and his fiancee? Sam, who is working in the DA’s office?” His father shook his head. “I know you boys are close, but do you really think you can live in a one-bedroom one bathroom with the two of them?” 
“I’m not living with you,” Dean argued. 
“Bobby isn’t going to help either,” John admitted. 
“What did you say to him?” Dean ran his fingers across his hair in frustration. 
“You don’t need to worry,” John huffed. 
“You did all this to get me in your clutches,” Dean accused.
“Better for me to at least know when you OD than to hear it from the news,” John barked. “How stupid could you be? I told you! I told you when you first told me you wanted to go into music that this would end badly, that you would end up in trouble.” 
“Good for you,” Dean muttered, “why go through all this when you have Sam as your perfect son?”   
“Don’t give me that bullshit,” John rolled his eyes and shook his head, “You and Sam are two different people. You may have the same blood, but you are your own people, and all I’m trying to do is make sure you don’t end up dead!” 
“I tried that shit once, just once, and trust me, it’s not something I can do again, ever,” Dean leaned against the truck and crossed his arms. “Dad, music was my life. So what do I do now?” Dean was tired, tired of fighting his dad over his passion, over people thinking the worst of him. He gave the band five years of himself, five years of his voice. And now everything was crashing around him. 
“Son,” John slowly made his way towards Dean, “Music isn’t everything. Besides, you were always good with your hands. You can work in the shop.” 
Dean sighed, “yeah, I guess.” He looked up at his dad and swallowed the lump in his throat. 
Dean loved his old man, there was no doubt. The baseball games, the race tracks, hell, even just going out fishing, Dean and John had a good relationship, unless it was about music. There was something about music that had the two men at odds with one another. It baffled Dean. His father loved music, loved to sing to his mother when he thought Dean and his brother weren’t looking. The old Marine has a soft spot for it. So then why was his father so hell-bent on not supporting him with his passion? 
“You know I never touched that stuff, dad,” Dean all but whispered. “I know you hate that I went on to do this music thing, but I loved being on that stage. I loved the rush of the music just flowing, man.” 
“Yeah,” John sighed, “I know you have more sense than that, Dean. But I don’t think being a big star was for you.” 
“Yeah,” Dean nodded, “look where it got me.” 
John placed a hand on Dean’s shoulder and bent over to look into his son’s eyes, “Look, we’ll get you into the shop, and you can work on some cars and feel better.” 
Dean stayed silent as his father patted him one last time before moving around the truck’s front to climb into the driver’s side. Dean climbed in and leaned back into the chair, his mind racing with thoughts of what was waiting for him when they arrived in his childhood home. 
The thirty-minute drive was filled with silence, John trying to make small talk with mentions of a new Camaro that he was working on and a few people in the shop that Dean didn’t want to get to know. Parking the truck, Dean climbed out slowly, in no hurry to have the memories of his last time there. In fact, it was not the best memory he had. His mother tried to stop the words from being said, but the minute John laid down the law, Dean had packed a bag and slammed the door on his way out. That was the night he had signed on to be Purgatory’s lead singer. The night his life changed, and the trail of mistakes that followed him. 
“So,” John sighed as he clapped his hands together, “your room is just as you left it, and Sam said he was going to stop by later with Jess. His idea,” John rubbed the back of his neck at the silence that followed, “I mean, son, this isn’t --- the words we said--” 
“I know,” Dean let out with a small breath. “Look, you and I both know that this whole feeling’s thing is not for us,” he motioned between the two of them. “Let’s just deal with the situation, I’ll do what I need to stay out of your hair, and I’ll do my best to follow the rules.” 
John let out a heavy sigh, knocking on the wooden dining room table, “Okay, I’ll let you get settled, and I’ll call Sam to let him know we’re back.” 
“Yeah, I gotta call my probation officer,” Dean grumbled. 
“Probation? What for?” John sounded alarmed at the thought. 
“Those were the terms, I’m not allowed to leave the state, and I have to check in with Officer Billie Reapertwar once I get settled. So I gotta call and see where they want to meet,” Dean walked over to the kitchen and pulled out a piece of paper that was given to him when they released him. 
“Using the landline? Don’t you have one of those fancy phones?” John asked. 
“The phone belonged to the label. In fact, I’m sure I have very few possessions that they are letting me keep.” Dean huffed. 
“Actually, a few moving guys came with some boxes,” John admitted, “they brought them over with the Impala. I put the boxes labeled clothes in your room, and everything else is in the garage.” 
“Thanks,” Dean sighed, “I just wanted to sing and move people with music.” 
“That’s how it always starts,” John muttered under his breath. 
“Huh?” Dean looked up from the piece of paper in his hand after dialing the number. “You say something?” 
“No,” John denied, “I’ll get out of your hair. Need to use my cell to call your brother and the garage.” 
John gave his son one last look before moving out towards the backyard to make his phone call. Dean looked on, wondering how he was going to get out of this mess. Deep inside, he needed to get back on the stage, to sing songs he desperately wanted to sing. No matter what, he was going to bounce back from his fall. After all, when you fall, you’re supposed to get back up, right? 
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The coffee shop was hustling and bustling with people moving around. Dean’s leg bounced as he held the cup of coffee in his hand. His probation officer, Officer Reapertwar, had told him to meet at a coffee shop in downtown Lawrence. His baseball cap hiding his face from any fans that could be lingering. For the most part, it seemed to work until one girl recognized him when he looked up higher than he should have. 
“Oh. My. God,” she let out slowly. 
Dean closed his eyes, cursing softly before forcing a smile and looking at her, “Hello darlin’, how are you today?”  
“Dean Winchester is in Cuppa Joe! Oh wow, they let you out!” she walked towards him and gushed. 
“What’s your name, sweetheart?” he asked as he took the magazine she handed him along with the marker. 
“A-amber,” she let out with a bright smile. “I’m so sad that Purgatory isn’t going to have you as their singer anymore.” 
“I’m sure they got a good guy,” Dean shrugged. He couldn’t help but feel angry at what he was losing. After giving everything he could to the band, he was tossed aside. 
Dean scribbled his name on the magazine and paused at the cover. There staring at him was his mug shot with the headline ‘lead singer caught with drugs in his suitcase. Bandmates heartbroken over their fallen singer.’ 
“When did this magazine come out?” he asked gently as he gave it back to her. 
“It was last week, I think?” the girls said, “I don’t believe any of it. I think the band was just jealous that all the girls liked you.” 
“Yeah,” he muttered. “Well, I’m getting ready to meet someone, so I hope you have a good day, darlin’” he offered her a wink and watched as she made her way back to her friends. 
“He was very nice, nothing like his bandmates. I think they framed him,” she said, “he should just go solo.” 
That was the last bit he heard as she walked out with her friends. Dean sat back and sighed. This was going to be a challenging year. A year of meeting up with Officer, whose name he can’t pronounce, and prove to her that he doesn’t shoot up or is a drug addict. Dean took a sip of his coffee, contemplating his next moves. For now, he had to work at the garage, and his wheels, well, they were one of the loaner cars his dad gives to customers when they have to keep a car to fix for a while. 
He hated it. 
Taking a sip of his coffee, he groaned when it came up empty. Standing up from his stool, he made his way towards the line, annoyed that it had doubled in size. As he was making his way to the back, he remembered his wallet on the table and turned back around only to feel a hot sting and hissed. 
“¡Me cago en el coño tu madre!” the voice cried in annoying anger. “No puedes ver donde estás caminando?”  (I shit on your mother in hell. Can’t you see where you’re walking?) 
“Uh? Sorry, Español no es bueno,” he tried. “I’m sorry, let me help. Um--” Dean frantically looked around, trying to find someone to help him translate. 
“I speak English too, asshole,” she shook her head. “Fucking rockstars think they own the damn world,” she muttered. 
“Excuse me?” Dean huffed in frustration, “listen, lady, I’m apologizing here, alright? I can buy you another damn cup of coffee.” 
“Don’t bother, I’m already late,” she pushed past him, “Gringo de mierda. Nunca saben donde están parados.” (Damn shitty white people. Can’t figure out where they’re standing.) 
“Hey, what did you say?” Dean demanded as he tried to go after her. 
He was about to reach for her when a woman stepped in front of him. 
“Excuse me,” he tried to move past them, only to be blocked. Dean clenched his jaw in anger, “Look, I’m trying to get the girl back in here to apologize and to talk things out.” 
“I’m sure,” they said before pulling something out of their back pocket and flashing it to Dean. 
Dean’s eyes roamed the object, and he closed his eyes in annoyance, “Officer Reapertwar, I presume?” 
“Very observant of you. Yes, I am Officer Billie Reapertwar,” she put her badge away. “You can call me Billie. Let’s have a chat as to what you can expect,” she motioned back towards the hightop and sat across from him. 
“So what do I need to do with this thing? Drug test? Weekly check-ins?” Dean asked as he sighed and slumped in his seat. 
“You read my mind,” she said, “You're not as dumb as you look.” she folded her hands on the table and leaned over. “I’m going to make this easy,” she paused and sighed, “you have no priors. You did six months in prison and kept your nose clean. You didn’t show signs of withdrawal in your cell, so that is a good sign.” 
“You mean you believe I never took the drugs?” Dean titled his head in confusion, “so then why do I--” 
“The court just wants to make sure you aren’t a drug dealer or a drug pusher. This is all pretty standard.” she explained and leaned back, “Now this is our evaluation meeting. Next time we meet, you will be in your house to not draw too much attention.”
“I don’t know if you’ve noticed,” Dean let out a small huff, “but i’m not swimming in girls screaming my name.” he motioned to their surroundings and gave her a pointed look as if to say, see. 
“So the girl that asked for your autograph, you don’t think that she would let a crowd of people on the internet know where to find you?” Billie asked, raising her eyebrow before motioning with her head to look behind him.
 Dean slowly turned his head and searched for what Billie was pointing to with her head. He could feel his stomach drop at the sight of the familiar paparazzi lens poking out of a hidden area. With his head bowed in annoyance, Dean turned back towards Billie and pinched the bridge of his nose. 
“Looks like you aren’t as forgotten as you might think,” Billie offered him a smirk. “So, back to our meetings. Drug test once a week, we start with a meeting three times a week just to keep an eye on things. Now, do you have a job?” 
“Working in my dad’s auto garage,” Dean let out, clearing his throat. “I’ve worked there on and off since I was 16. I know my way around cars, so it’s a good fit. We can meet at my dad’s house, if anything, or the garage.” 
“You’re making it easier already,” Billie nodded, “I will let you go. I’m sure your dad needs you at the garage, right?” 
“Yeah,” Dean pushed off and got up from his seat, following the officer out of the shop. 
“See you the day after tomorrow,” Billie shook his hand, “garage or your old man’s place?” 
 “Garage,” Dean responded automatically. “We’re usually there early in the morning, around 6 am.” 
“I will call you for the address tomorrow,” Billie waved at him as he walked to the loaner car. 
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Dean arrived at the garage and sighed when he noticed his dad waiting for him. 
“Well?” he asked anxiously. 
“Meeting up with her every other day, for now, weekly drug test, but she says it looks good because I have no priors and I didn't show withdrawal symptoms. They just want to make sure I'm not a dealer,” Dean put on his coveralls and turned to his dad. “What can I work on?”  
John walked past the clipboards that detailed the day’s work and moved to a tarp covering a shape Dean was familiar with. It was a bike. He could tell from the outline of the handlebars that it was a bike. 
“You got me fixing a hog?” Dean asked as he moved to remove the tarp. 
“Not just any hog,” John sighed, “Your hog.” 
“Mine? Why not just give me the Impala?” Dean huffed in annoyance. 
“Because I know you love the Impala, and I need you to understand that the music industry isn’t something that you should focus on. Look at what it did to you?” John said as he ran his fingers through his hair, “humor me, please, son. Instead of the loner, you can go out and pick up girls in this if you can get her to work.” 
Dean nodded and licked his lips as he walked around the beat-up motorcycle. Upon closer inspection, Dean began to note that he had to work from the ground up. He had to start replacing everything. What his father had given him was a busy project. 
“So I fix this up, and she’s mine?” Dean asked for reassurance. 
“Yup,” his father confirmed. “Look, you got your five years of fame, son,” he walked over and put a hand on Dean’s shoulder, “you had a chance to do what you loved, but don’t forget your roots.”
“I never did,” Dean admitted, “I mean, to be honest,” he rubbed the back of his neck, “I always thought it would be country-rock, not alternative. I would be singing.” 
“So, get to fixing her up,” John cleared his throat and began walking back, “I need to see about Mrs. Lloyds carburetor. Damn thing keeps giving out, might need to order her a new one.”  
“Yeah,” Dean let his eyes roam over the bike, “did Sam say what time he and Jess were going to join us for dinner?” 
“Yeah, as soon as we close the shop,” John called back, “get to work, son, that bike won’t fix itself, and I have guys to introduce you to.” 
Dean let out an audible groan and sighed. If he wanted to get rid of the loaner, he had his work cut out for him. He had to work and work in a way that allowed him to have the bike ready. And the first thing he had to do was check the engine. 
It was five hours into it, and Dean had grabbed the sandwich his father had ordered for the whole crew, but he decided to keep working while eating. For now, he had cleaned out the engine and began working on the small parts around it. Dean made sure all the cables and fluid lines were intact, replacing any that seemed cracked or broken. Then, he cleaned out the oil tank of any old remnants to get it ready to fill it with fresh new oil. Once that was done, he set out to work on the engine itself, making sure the gas tank had just enough to test out the ignition. 
The last thing Dean did was to double-check the exhaust, and once he did that, he had to pat himself on the back. The bike roared to life as he turned it on and revved it up a little. Dean walked over to the few parts they had for bike seats and other accessories, satisfied with his work. He fixed up the mirrors and saddlebags, making sure they were good to go. 
In reality, it seemed his father gave him a bike that wasn’t too bad out of shape. He was able to fix her up pretty quick. Dean couldn’t shake the feeling that while he loved fixing up cars and bikes, this wasn’t what he wanted to do until he was ready to retire. In prison, he began writing and kept his work close by, songs that weren’t Purgatory’s style but his own. His father had mentioned being proud of his roots, and to be honest, his roots were being a Kansas boy. 
Dean was confident that he fixed the bike up enough to get her working again. He worked all day on it. He might as well take her for a test spin. Looking at the clock, Dean knew it was almost time for his dad to close the shop. Walking out of the main shop floor, Dean cleaned his hands of the grease that had accumulated.
Reaching the locker area, he noticed his father talking to Bobby and sighed. They seemed to be arguing. About what? He wasn’t sure, but he was going to find out. 
“Damn it, John,” Bobby sighed, “you know that you raised that boy not to touch any of that stuff. And even if he ever did, can you honestly say looking at him that he is just like Jeorge?” 
‘Jeorge?’ Dean thought to himself, ‘who’s Jeorge?’
“Bobby,” John breathed, “Music is a hobby. I learned that the hard way, and what happened to Jeorge has nothing--” 
“It has everything to do with it, damn it,” Bobby cursed. “Jeorge overdosing was not your fault! Hell, that boy had trouble before that damn war ever started.” 
“But our wanting fame made it worse,” John argued, “Sure, we played gigs, but the more we played, the more he took the drug offers shoved in our faces by labels that we were talking to.” 
‘Labels? Music labels?’ Dean tilted his head in confusion as he continued to listen. 
“You didn’t take it,” Bobby pointed out, “and you were in much worse shape than he was after the war.” Bobby placed a hand on John’s shoulder, “Only thing that kept you grounded was Mary and those boys. You know that.” 
Dean moved a small step when his shoulder caught on a wrench, making it crash down onto the floor. The sound echoed all over the garage, making the two men rush towards Dean’s location. 
“You okay, son?” John asked. 
“Yeah,” Dean nodded, “Just bumped into the damn wrench someone left out.” Dean let out a nervous laugh, “people should be more careful, right?” his eyes darted between Bobby and his father, “How you doing, Bobby? Is my Baby safe?” 
“She’s safe,” Bobby confirmed, “Waiting for your jackass of a father to let you drive her again. Although, to be honest, you’re not a kid anymore.” 
“Bobby,” John warned.
“It’s okay, Bobby,” Dean lifted up his hands. “This kind of shows the probation officer that I’m in good hands and not a criminal like everyone makes me out to be.” 
“Damn right,” Bobby chuckled, “more like streaking menace.” 
“Oh no,” Dean let out a groan, “You are never going to let me live that down, are you?” 
“Nope,” Bobby cracked a smile and winked at Dean. 
“You fixed the bike?” John inquired as he began locking up. 
“I, uh… I want to take her out for a test run,” Dean said as he began to take off his coveralls. 
“If you’re confident that you really fixed her up really well, I don’t see why not.” his father shrugged and looked around, “you can meet the guys another time, maybe tomorrow.” 
“Yeah, let’s go home and meet up with Sam and Jess, huh?” Dean changed the subject. 
With everything locked up, John and Dean said their goodbyes to Bobby and made their way to their vehicles. Dean followed closely behind his father and smiled when he was able to reach the house without incident. The bike was running smoothly, and Dean couldn’t wait to take her around town. When he pulled up behind his father, he noticed a small silver Prius and turned his nose up at it. 
“Really, Sam,” Dean scoffed as he walked up to Sam and Jess, who were sitting on the porch swing, “a Prius?” 
“Hey, it’s safer than the metal deathtrap you love to drive,” Sam teased. 
“Hey, that metal deathtrap, as you call it,” Dean began, “is family.” 
“Come here, Jerk,” Sam said, hugging him. 
“Good to see you outside of my orange jumpsuit, Bitch.” Dean reciprocated the gesture before turning to Sam’s fiancee, Jessica Moore, and enveloped her in a hug. “How you doing, Jess? This one stealing all your shampoo?” 
“Please, he has his own bottle,” Jess teased. “How are you doing?” 
“Been better,” he sighed. “Never thought I would be living back at home.” 
 “Hey,” Jess bumped him playfully, “you’ll get back up there. If I can be honest,” she sighed, “I don’t think Purgatory was your thing. Sure, you guys were good, and your voice fits well, but it didn’t really seem like you, you know?” 
“I don’t know Jess,” he gave her a cocky smile, “I mean, the girls were great, I had lots of booze, and my house was amazing.” 
“But were you happy?” Jess asked. 
Dean was a bit thrown off by her question. Was he happy? 
“Yeah,” Dean scoffed at the questions, “I mean, I was making music and singing songs.” 
“Okay,” Jess knew it was a lost cause. She could tell when she and Sam spent time with Dean before his time in prison that he wasn’t happy. 
Dinner itself was quiet once everyone was inside. Dean was glad they opted to order pizza. If he could be honest, he needed comfort food, and pizza was the best kind: the cheesier, the better. With five slices consumed, Dean could feel his mouth water at the sight of the pecan pie that Jess had brought. 
“How are you Sam’s fiancee?” Dean asked with a teasing smile, “you know you’re too good for him, right?” 
“What can I say? He turned on that famous Winchester charm,” she winked at Dean, making him laugh. 
“You guys are good together,” Dean nodded, “too late for me so, you better not mess this up, Sammy.”  
Sam rolled his eyes, “It’s not too late for you, Dean,” Sam sighed.
“Don’t worry about me. Besides, it was nice to see you guys,” he finished off the third slice of pie and sighed. “I’m going to take the bike out for another spin.” Dean pushed back against his chair and proceeded to reach for his keys. 
“Son,” John called out. “You sure that bike is ready for long-distance? You just got back home. Maybe you should stay and rest, huh?” 
“Dad,” Dean sighed, running a hand across his face, “I need this. I need to just get away and figure out what to do.”
“You’re doing what you are meant to,” John argued, “you’re working with me in the garage. You’re going to take over one day. It’s stable work.” 
“Dad, I can’t have this argument again,” Dean breathed, trying to calm his already crippling anxiety.  
“What’s there to argue?” his father denied, “I just think you’re rushing into things. You just got out of prison, and you should be spending time with your family.” 
“I spent time with you guys. I was with you in that garage all day,” Dean pointed out, “not to mention Sam and Jess have to go home, so they aren’t out late. I just want to go out for a ride, that’s it.” Dean ran his fingers through his hair, “why are you fighting with me about wanting to go out for a ride?” 
“I’m not trying to fight you, son,” John said calmly, “I just don’t want you to rush things. You’re always in a damn hurry to just go places. What’s wrong with just staying home and relaxing?” 
“I have plenty of time to relax, other days.” Dean turned to face his father shaking his head in annoyance, “I just got out, dad. I need to be somewhere that isn’t four walls. Is that too much to ask, please?” 
“Dean, I don’t think you should be out there tonight, that’s all,” John licked his lips and ran a hand across his face, his own anger building up, “I’m not starting a fight, boy.”  
Sam and Jess had left the dining room to head towards the kitchen, away from John and Dean’s conversation. 
“But you have to look at what you are doing.” John pointed his finger at Dean taking a step closer to his son, “You’re in such a damn rush to put this place behind you again, to put us behind you again-” 
“I’m just going for a damn ride!” Dean let out in a frustrated cry, his arms gesturing towards the door. 
“You’re running away!” John growled, “You did it when I tried to talk you out of that damn contract. You just couldn’t wait to get out of town fast enough, could you?” John let out an angry scoff, shaking his head at the memory. “You broke your mother’s heart when you left.” 
“I broke her heart?” Dean cried in disbelief, “you have some nerve. Mom wanted me to follow my dream! She told me that if I wanted to go, I would always have a home. You’re the one who said that I would be nothing but a failure!” 
“Please, you wanted nothing to do with, steady work ‘cause you had to be a fucking rock star, and look what it got you!” John said, dismissing Dean’s argument. 
“I don’t want to be a damn mechanic the rest of my life! I don’t wanna stay here the rest of my life like you did, Dad! I wanted to make music, go places, and see things outside of the damn garage and these four walls! I still do!” Dean took hold of his helmet and pressed the top of it against his dad’s chest, “And right now, I wanna see my bike on the damn highway!” 
Turning on his heels, Dean swung the door open, letting it hit the hallway’s inner wall before stomping towards his bike. Adjusting his jacket, he was placing his helmet on when a hand grabbed onto his shoulder. 
“Dean,” his brother’s voice calmed him down a bit, “do you at least have an idea where you’re going to go?” 
“I won’t go too far,” Dean sighed. “Besides, I need to cool off and think about my options.” 
“You know he just wants what's best for you, for us,” Sam tried to appeal to Dean. 
“You are who he’s proud of, Sammy,” Dean offered his brother a soft smile, “Me? I’m the son that wanted to play music and get out of Lawrence.” 
“You know dad just worries,” Sam said as he watched Dean climb onto the bike. “I’ve seen what the music industry does to people Dean, hell they almost destroyed you.” 
“No, that was those pricks and the label. Music actually helps give me a voice,” Dean shook his head and scoffed. “I’m not going to explain my reason to you. We don’t do this,” he motioned between them, “we don’t talk about what bothers us, so do me a favor, move out of the way and let me ride.” 
Sam sighed in defeat as he moved away from Dean and his bike. The engine’s roar echoed in the neighborhood as Dean peeled out of the driveway and onto the black pavement of the road. He wasn’t sure where he was going, but he hoped that his ride could help him figure out how to get out of his head and back on a stage. 
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Dean was riding his bike for what seemed to be a good hour when he turned onto a dirt road. He was about halfway down it when the engine began to sputter. 
“No, no, no,” Dean groaned as he heard the engine make a weird noise, “come on, don’t do this now.” 
Dean put the brake on and killed the engine. Looking around, he found himself lucky to notice the lights of the small bar across the road. The neon sign blinking, almost enticing him to come in. 
Rusty’s Saloon and Grill 
Looking both ways along the road, Dean rushed across it towards the establishment. He could see the worn-out wood and the chipped paint. A line of motorcycles and cars all mixed in, and the familiar hint of music playing inside. As he walked in, he could see a small stage with a group already mid-song. He recognized the melody as a song by the band Metric. 
“Don't go,” the woman’s voice was soft and sultry as her eyes closed when she sang into the microphone. “Stay with the all-unknown. Stay away from the hooks. All the chances we took,” she opened her eyes and let them roam along the crowd letting her body sway to the guitar. 
“We're so close,” she let out, letting her hand reach out as if to grab something. “to something better left unknown. We're so close to something better left unknown. I can feel it in my bones.” 
Dean could feel the woman pour her heart out into the song she was singing. The way her body moved to the beat of the acoustic guitar made him watch her in awe. Her presence alone was enough to draw him in. Making his way towards the bar, he placed his helmet close by and sat on the stool facing the stage. He couldn’t help but have a sinking feeling that he knew the singer. 
“Gimme sympathy,” she breathed out to the melody. “after all of this is gone. Who would you rather be? The Beatles or The Rolling Stones? Oh, seriously, you're gonna make mistakes, you're young.” She walked across the stage, working the crowd with her performance, many of the patrons hollering and cheering. “Come on, baby, play me something, like ‘Here Comes the Sun.’ Gimme sympathy after all of this is gone. Who would you rather be? The Beatles or The Rolling Stones? Oh, seriously,  you're gonna make mistakes, you're young. Come on, baby, play me something like ‘Here Comes the Sun’.” 
Dean watched as the woman repeated the last line a few times before the song officially ended. Both guitarist and singer took their bows before a blond woman took the stage as the crowd cheered.
“Ladies and Gentleman, Benny Lafitte and Y/N Y/L/N!” she called into the mic. “You all know that Rusty’s is the place to be to listen to our local musicians not just play cover songs but their own music. And if you’re a local musician in need of a stage to play, just come in and ask for Jo, that’s me!” she pointed to herself with a smile. “Now remember tomorrow we do have happy hour, and Benny makes a mean shrimp gumbo, so don’t forget to come back, play some pool and throw some axes in our ax range!” 
Dean took a look around the bar when she mentioned the pool tables, but much to his surprise, he saw a set of cages with a few targets and people throwing axes at them. Nodding his head, he couldn’t help but smile, feeling a sense of calm in the saloon. 
“What can I get ya?” a voice called to him. 
Dean turned around to see the singer from earlier, her hair up in a ponytail and her eyes giving off an after-performance sparkle. 
“Double shot of whiskey, neat,” Dean said as he looked around. “Hey, do you know anyone that can help me with a set of tools to fix my bike?” 
“Would need to ask Benny, but he’s operating the grill right now. It’s burger night, so everyone's hankering for his cajun smoked pepper burger.”  
“That actually sounds good,” Dean chuckled, “this is my first time here, so there is an amateur night or--” 
“All music questions go to Jo,” she said as she pointed to the blond woman. “Here is your whiskey, and if you need anything, my name’s Y/N.” 
“Thanks,” Dean said before reaching for her and smiling, “Sorry, but I have to say, you sounded amazing up there. Have you guys thought about actually taking the gig on the road?” 
“Look,” she clicked her tongue against her teeth and gave off a frustrated scoff, “I hear that every night, I’m not a hooker or a one-night stand. So please drink your whiskey, enjoy the music and have a good night.” 
Dean let her go and watched as she walked off in a huff. There was something about her voice that seemed familiar. He continued to watch her when she spoke again.
“¡Mira pendejo! Tomate tu trago y te vas a ir de aquí o te voy a dar tres cocotazos por la cabeza”  
“It can’t be,” he muttered to himself before downing his shot and moving across the bar top towards her, “You’re the woman from this morning!” he let out in a huff. “You know you could have at least let me help you and buy you a new coffee instead of getting mad at me,” he let out and smirked when she froze when he mentioned the morning’s events. “Not to mention I was complimenting you earlier. You could have just said that you didn’t want to tour and that singing was just a hobby for you.” Dean pointed out. 
Y/N grabbed a rag and began wiping the counter down. She bit the inside of her cheek at his words, "I--" she took in a deep breath and stopped wiping the counter. "It was a very, very, very, bad day, Gringo. So I am sorry, this morning was not my best." she admitted, "how about a truce? Two shots of whiskey on me?" She grabbed two shot glasses and a bottle of the best whiskey on the shelf, “Thank you for the compliment on my singing, but I only do it to help out. Someone like me isn’t a going on the road kind of girl.” 
“Someone like you?” Dean raised his eyebrow in confusion, “you mean sexy and has the voice of an angel?” 
“Do those cheesy lines work, Gringo?” she leaned on the counter and grabbed the glass full of the shot of whiskey, “‘Cuz I have to say, A mi no me hace nada.” (It doesn’t do anything for me)
Dean let out a chuckle and shook his head, “I have no idea what you said, but I can tell when I’m being shot down.” he raised his own glass and tapped it against hers, “to new beginnings?” 
“To new beginnings,” Y/N echoed before downing her shot. “On a serious note, if you’re interested in performing, talk to Jo. I’m sure she’ll be able to help you out.” 
As they both downed their shots, Dean found himself studying her face. There was something about her, something familiar from before the coffee shop incident. He tried to rack his brain, but it came up blank. With a smile, he pushed his empty glass towards her and hopped off the stool. 
“Thanks for the Whiskey,” he rapped his knuckles against the counter, “I’ll be seeing you around?” 
“We’ll see, cowboy,” she shot him a wink and a smile, “hasta luego.” 
Dean couldn’t help but watch as she walked away. Head tilted to the side,  he let his eyes roam over the curve of her hips and the sway of her ass. He let out a soft groan knowing that he never had a chance in hell with her. He couldn’t help but feel at home in the small saloon he found. He could come back tomorrow now that he knew where it was and talk to ‘Jo’ about signing up to sing on stage. He still had his six-string in his room, and he could dust off some old songs.  
"You the guy dat Y/N said iz havin trouble with their bike?" 
Dean looked up to see a man in a chef’s jacket walking up to him. Short buzz-cut hair and blue eyes seemed to look like water on a clear day, and a goatee framed his face. Dean couldn’t help but wonder what this man’s story was. 
“Yeah, that’s me,” Dean reached his hand out to shake his and smiled, “thanks, man, I know you must be pretty busy. I can wait until later if you want?” 
“Itz no trouble,” Benny clapped his hand over Dean’s shoulder and smiled, “letz get you all fixed up and on your way. Da kitchen ain’t goin nowhere.” 
“Okay, thanks,” Dean nodded as he grabbed his helmet, “You were outstanding up there performing with Y/N. You guys perform together all the time?” 
“Every once in a while,” Benny chuckled, “But I gotta tell ya brotha’ she is a gem.” 
“She seems like it,” Dean agreed, “She has talent. She could be big if she went out to other places.” 
“I am gonna stop you right, der,” Benny stopped and turned to Dean, “Cher has gone through too much for someone like you ta come in and turn her life upside down, ya hear?” 
“You telling me to stay away?” Dean asked as he licked his lips with a soft cocky scoff, “you her boyfriend or somethin’? 
“Or somethin’,” Benny replied. “Now, where is this bike ah yours so we can get you on home.” 
“Right there,” Dean said as he pointed to his bike and watched as Benny began looking around for the problem, “and what if I come back and start performing here?” Dean asked, challenging the Cajun man just a bit. 
“You can juz sing ya songz and drink a few drinkz,” Benny chuckled but stood tall as he faced Dean, “But, Cher don’t need another rock star coming in and trying to use her.”
Dean pursed his lips and nodded as he sized Benny up. Seemed he had a history with Y/N, and if he was being told to stay away, then there must have been something done to make her off-limits. Dean’s cocky side couldn’t be calmed as Benny’s warning came as more of a suggestion. 
“Ya’know she’s a big girl and can take care of herself, right?” Dean let his lips curl into a slight smirk as he watched Benny circle around his bike, tools in hand. “I mean, you tell me she’s just somethin’. That tells me she’s free game.” 
“She,” Benny gave him a dangerous glare, “ain’t for tuz. I am only warning you, brotha, Y/N has been through enough, and she don’t need a washed-up rock star looking for a quick path to fame again.”  
Dean ran a hand across his face and clicked his tongue over his teeth, “you know who I am then.” It was more a statement than a question as he looked at the Cajun. 
“Ah do,” Benny confirmed as he went back to fixing Dean’s bike, “and ah know that you got choself in a bit of trouble der.” He paused as he found the problem and began to fix it, “wire came looze, juz needed to be tightened up a bit.” Benny turned the ignition and smiled when the bike roared to life, ‘you hurry on home now.”  
“Thanks,” Dean said as he shook Benny’s hand but held onto him a bit, “no matter what you think, I can guarantee you don’t know me. Nothing that happened was on me. I ain’t no druggy. I wanna make music, and she seems like someone to make it with, so I sure as hell don’t need anyone, especially a Cajun reject, to tell me who I can and can’t talk to.” 
Benny licked his lips and squeezed Dean’s hand harder, “Oh, I know, but letz get one t’ing straight,” Benny pulled Dean closer and chuckled in his ear. “Anyone hurtz Cher and dey meet da end of my fist, understand?” 
“Yeah,” Dean matched Benny’s grip, “I understand. I best be on my way.” 
“Have a good night, der,” Benny said as he let go of Dean. 
Dean waited until Benny was a reasonable distance away and turned around before calling towards him, “Hey Benny!” He paused when Benny turned to face him, “see you tomorrow when I’m on that stage.” 
With that, Dean revved up his engine and drove off back towards his father’s house. He had work to do. 
Chapter 2 
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Bottom of the Bottle 
@maliburenee 
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blushmis · 4 days ago
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Only Angel Series Part 38 {Unedited Teaser} (70s!Rockstar!Harry Styles x Reader):
“It was an amazing time we had. Coming back with the Stones… I realized how much I missed this place. But it wasn’t the same, of course. There was no flower picking or running in a field or buying pastries at a local market. There was no handsome rockstar waiting for me in bed or the shower,” you chuckled. “There was no you.”
“I’m sure Mick was waiting for you,” Harry stated, but there wasn’t any bitterness in his tone. He was having a conversation. No insecurity.
“I’m sure he was,” you agreed. “But he had some groupie to fill in that space. Or his wife.” You took a sip of your lemonade.
“Us rockstars. We aren’t too good at love, are we?” Harry teasingly joked, taking a drink of his water.
“None of us are,” you declared. “What about Cynthia? Or Penelope? Whatever happened to them?”
Harry shrugged. It was an honest shrug. He had no clue where they were in life.
“Four years… Four years I’ve known you,” Harry stated, holding your hand on the table. “Why does it feel like ‘s been so much longer?” Harry paused, his thumb skimming over yours. “Four years and I’ve had the biggest crush on you.”
His words pull a sweet chuckle from you, your hand squeezing his.
Harry let out a soft sigh before looking at the ocean once again. And you watched him admire the view. The waves and the sky.
Harry looked at peace as the cool breeze ran through his curls and waves of hair. He looked like he was meant to be there in that moment. He looked free.
“You look happy,” you gently spoke, running your fingertips across Harry’s smooth hair.
“I am,” Harry hoarsely stated, taking your hand into his and kissed your fingertips. “And do you…” Harry’s voice trailed off, as if he were nervous to complete his question.
“Do I what?” you pressed, encouraging him to finish.
“Feel loved… by me?”
You could see the hope in Harry’s eyes. Hope that he had finally gotten it right. All he needed was your answer.
And you could tell how nervous he was by the fidgeting of his hand.
***
wow wow wow we are getting super close to the end of this series ))): SO NO THIS IS NOT THE FINAL CHAPTER !!!!
part 38 will be posted tomorrow (6/12/21)
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the-al-chemist · 5 days ago
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@kc-needs-coffee is currently my fave person, and I am officially back on the Rockstar AU train…
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Meet Rockstar!Artemis - she’s not actually a rockstar, just some jumped up little diva who knows her way around fireworks, as shown here by Kate’s amaaaaaazing edit! (ty so much, I am in love)
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flamencodiva · 5 days ago
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Bottom of the Bottle: Prologue
Description: Dean was at the peak of stardom until his world came crashing down. Can he find his way back to the top?
Word Count: 2185
Pairing: Rockstar!Dean Winchester x Reader (Eventual)
Warnings for entire series: Smut (oral female and male receiving, P in V, Threesomes, Fingering, Orgies) Fluff, Angst, Violence, Language, Mentions of Drug use, Drinking, Mentions of Death, Slow Burn, a smidge of Fake Dating.
Beta'd by: @wonder-cole​
Aesthetic by: @firefly-graphics​
Divider by: @talesmaniac89​
Series Masterlist
Main Masterlist
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One minute, the band was giving their final encore, then the next thing, they were having a party in their hotel room. It was bliss, the groupies were supreme as they loved to have fun, and it was the only way for the lead singer to feel anything at all. He looked down at the redhead sucking on his cock while he laid back on the couch, the bottle of whiskey in one hand as the other helped the redhead bob on his shaft. 
“How’s her mouth, Dean?” Gordon, their drummer, asked as he was pounding his own groupie. 
It wasn’t uncommon for the band to once in a while indulge in a bit of fun. The orgies were just a way to blow off steam after a show. Besides, it helped Dean forget about his troubles or at least numb the pain for a while. Michael, their guitarist, had one girl sitting on his face, another bouncing on his cock.
“She’s a fucking dream, Gordon,” Dean let out a groan when the redhead swirled her tongue just right, making his hip buck. His cock was hitting the back of her throat, making her gag. 
The sheer act of the redhead choking on his cock made Dean want to cum down her throat, but he needed to please her; he had a reputation to uphold. Even if it was filled with emptiness, the numbness he felt was worth it. 
The moans and groans echoed in the hotel room, the lights were dim, and everyone was having a good time. 
“Come here, sweetheart,” Dean said as he pulled the girl up. “Let’s see how good you can ride a cock.” The girl was high off her mind, having smoked or snorted something that someone had brought in. 
Dean only drank at times like these. He had tried drugs before, Angel Grace and Demon Blood, but they messed him up, and he never touched them again. The other members of the band, on the other hand, love both of the illicit drugs, one that acted like a steroid, the other acting as an antidepressant. So deep in his thoughts about drugs, Dean never noticed the woman had started riding him. 
“Oh, Dean,” she giggled, “feel so full.” 
“No talking, keep fucking,” Dean growled as he pulled on her hair, making her moan in pleasure.
He found the kinkiest groupie of the bunch, and he had to smile at that. He loved that they were kinky. It helped him get into a headspace where he could detach from his emotions. The random girl bouncing on him had cum, and he took the opportunity to shift their positions so that he was fucking her from behind, pushing her into the couch cushions as he pounded into her at a furious pace.  
“No fair! I wanted to fuck Dean,” a voice called out. 
“Relax,” Lucifer, the band’s guitarist, called out, “you’ll get your turn, right Dean-o?” 
Dean smirked, “Damn right,” he called out before shifting the position he was in again, “now,” he called to the redhead, “ride me good while I eat her out,” Dean turned to the brunette and crooked his finger towards the girl, “Come here sweetheart, let’s see how good your pussy tastes.” 
He could hear the hushed voices conversing, but he didn’t care. He needed to fill the void. This is what being a rockstar was all about, right? The sex, the drugs, the liquor: everything that came with fame and fortune. He never thought that joining the group Purgatory would lead him to this; he always thought he would be a solo act. But after singing at a local bar, he had been scouted by Ketch, the band’s manager, looking for a new lead singer. Sure, the music wasn’t what Dean was used to singing, but his voice was a perfect fit for the rock band. 
“Look at that pretty pussy,” Dean said as he grinned. He licked his lips before licking a stripe along the girl’s slit. “Tastes nice,” he praised. “Tell me, how many times can you cum?” he asked as he traced his fingers along her slick lips. 
“As many times as you want me to,” she moaned, bucking her hips against Dean’s finger. 
“Oh? Are you a cum slut?” he asked before using his free hand to drink his Whiskey, the alcohol doing its job of numbing his loneliness. “Will you cum until you pass out?” 
“Yes,” she moaned desperately. “Please,” she begged. 
Dean chuckled before letting out a moan in pleasure, the redhead’s pussy squeezing him tight. Reaching around the brunette sitting on his face to slap redhead’s ass, he appreciated the way it bounced back onto his hand like jello. He didn’t bother to remember names, and he didn’t care. He was famous, didn’t need anybody, didn’t need relationships, and he certainly didn’t need to have a care in the world, not after what his father said to him when he left. Sure, there were a few calls to his brother to check in on him, but any conversation about his old man made Dean change the subject to talk about the next tour and all the girls he could get. 
“I want Dean to touch me,” a whine came from the room. “Why do those two sluts get him?” 
“Relax,” Micahel grunted as he fucked into one of the girls, “he has two hands, a mouth, and a cock. There is plenty of him to go around and please you all. After all, it's what he does.” 
Dean had already started to let the Brunette ride him, his tongue plunging deep into her as she ground her hips on his face. He let out a soft hum before sucking harshly on her clit and letting go, “Come on, ladies,” he invited. “Although, I need someone to keep red in check for me. She looks like she’s getting tired. Who wants to take over?” 
There was a slew of girls hissing and growling to one another before someone had yanked red off, claiming she wasn’t doing her job of making him cum. He sucked harder on the brunette's clit at the claim, making her gush on his face. The girls didn’t need to know he was saving himself to just cum in one of their mouths. He hated cuming in any of them, even with a condom. He was too paranoid for that. 
“Move, bitch,” one of the girls said, “let me show you how to ride him.” 
Dean could feel the bodies moving around him, shifting so that he was sitting upright, the brunette still sitting in his face. She came again before switching with another girl, the new girl taking no time in placing her cunt right on his lips, his tongue going to work once she did. The current pussy was trying to milk him for everything he got, and he was ready to blow. He could feel it, but he had to have some fun. 
He began fingering the girls, their pussies clenching and fluttering around his meaty fingers. He chuckled against the brunette’s pussy as he fingered two girls on either side of him, the way they moaned and screamed in pleasure, letting him know he found their g-spot. God, he loved hearing the moans, loved the fact that they all wanted to fuck him and that he could just ruin them. Or at least, that’s what he told himself. Once he had his fill of making sure the girls were satisfied, he gently pushed them away and smiled. 
“So,” he began pumping his erection, looking at each girl in turn. “Who wants a taste of me?” 
The girls pushed at each other, practically toppling him over.  
“Easy, ladies, easy!” he called out. “You can each have a turn. But,” he gave them a devilish smirk, “only one of you can get a good taste to share with the rest. We should all be having fun. This is an orgy after all.” 
He let out a moan as the girls all found a way to all lick and suck on all parts of his cock. But one girl worked his tip masterfully. He could feel her push all the others away, taking him as deep as she could go. Dean could feel her nose hit the base of him. The sounds of her choking and slurping filled his ears as his balls tightened. He could feel himself get close, and he pushed her away, cock in one hand as he held her face in the other. 
“Open up, Baby,” he purred as he began jerking himself furiously, the girl opening her mouth and sticking her tongue out. 
Just as Dean was about to cum, there was a heavy knock on the door, making the girls in the room squeal in surprise. Dean’s cum missed its target as it landed on his hand and the floor. 
“Fuck!” he cursed and looked around as the rest of the guys in the band began to move around. 
Dean walked over to the door with a frustrated grunt, grabbing a shirt to clean his hand along the way. He didn’t care that his dick was flopping around and he was naked. Gritting his teeth, he pulled open the door, ready to fight whoever was interrupting the party. 
“Wha--” he froze as he noticed the police officer. In his drunken state, he offered a smile and swallowed the lump in his throat, “What can I help you with, officer?” 
“Are you Dean Winchester?” they asked. 
“What if I am?” Dean huffed. “I haven’t done anything.” 
“We were tipped anonymously that there were illicit drugs in use here? We have a warrant to search everything.” The officer pushed past Dean and shook his head, “Get dressed,” he called to everyone, “you too,” he pointed at Dean before making his way around the room. 
Dean walked over and grabbed a pair of pants, deciding to go freeballing as the officers began searching things. They searched through the girl’s purses, finding nothing but lipstick and other female products. Then they moved on to the band’s stuff, finding nothing. 
When they reached Dean’s luggage, he crossed his arms and sighed, “I have no idea what you are looking for, but I don’t have anything other than--” he stopped mid-sentence when enormous blocks of drugs came out of his suitcase. 
“Oh really?” the cop said. “Because it looks like you’re looking at possession.” 
“It’s not mine!” Dean argued. “One of the girls must have put it in there, but I don’t touch the stuff!” 
“You can explain it downtown,” the cop said as he placed Dean’s arms behind his back and cuffed him. 
Everything that happened was a blur to Dean. One minute he was in the hotel room getting cuffed and then escorted to the station. The officers put him in a cell alone after he was fingerprinted and booked. Sitting in his cell, he tried to make sense of what happened. He hung his head in shame as the alcohol left his system. How in the hell did he get in this mess? He continued staring at the floor when he heard footsteps approaching his cell. 
“Well, this is quite a mess you are in,” he heard. 
Dean lifted his head to find the band’s manager and label representative, Arthur Ketch, on the other side of the cell.  
“Ketch, why am I still in here?” he asked. 
“Well,” Ketch adjusted his tie, “you were in possession of over 5 Kilos of Angel Grace and 5 Kilos of Demon Blood.” 
“What? I never touch the stuff,” Dean argued. “Sure, everyone partakes, but it’s not mine. I didn’t carry it.” 
“Regardless of that fact, you signed a behavior clause with us, Mr. Winchester, and due to recent circumstances, we will need to drop you.” 
“What?” 
“Mr. Winchester, everything you own, aside from the Impala, is now ours. Your home and the other cars you own. We wish you the best of luck, but it seems that your time with Purgatory is up. We do appreciate your time with us and hope you get yourself some help.” Ketch ran his fingers through his hair, “But, our Lawyer can help you out so that your sentencing isn’t too harsh. It’s the least we could do for everything you have done for the label with your talent.” 
“Wow,” Dean huffed, “sounds like you guys wanted to get rid of me.” 
“Of course not,” Ketch denied, “this is an unfortunate circumstance. The other members were cleared of charges because they were clean. You were merely in possession,” he offered him a smile as he began to walk away. 
“What does that mean?” Dean cried out. 
“You will have to talk to the lawyer when he arrives, Dean. It’s been a good ten years with you, sorry it ended this way,”  Ketch called over his shoulder with a wave of his hand. 
Dean sat on the bench, letting his head fall back, hitting the concrete wall. His life as a rockstar was over in a matter of seconds. 
Chapter 1
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queerzubat · 5 days ago
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So...a friend on Discord talked about his Borderlands Rockstar!AU in which Tim was the lead guitarist in Jack's band until he leaves after getting fed up with Jack's bullshit.
And my Timothy brainrot kicked in and made me draw a Guitarist!Timothy.
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Drawn over this photo found on Unsplash, pins and patches are or drawn by me or inspired by some patches I found while googling in search of inspo.
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flamencodiva · 5 days ago
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Bottom of The Bottle Masterlist
Description: Dean was at the peak of stardom until his world came crashing down. Can he find his way back to the top?
Word Count: 2185
Pairing: Rockstar!Dean Winchester x Reader (Eventual)
Warnings for entire series: Smut (oral female and male receiving, P in V, Threesomes, Fingering, Orgies) Fluff, Angst, Violence, Language, Mentions of Drug use, Drinking, Mentions of Death, Slow Burn, a smidge of Fake Dating.
Beta'd by: @wonder-cole​
Aesthetic by: @firefly-graphics​
Divider by: @talesmaniac89​
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Prologue     Six Months Later    Sneaking Back on Stage   Finding the Beat 
More chapters to come 
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basicallyfnaf · 6 days ago
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Hmm, I don't really know what to post lol. I have been focusing on my YouTube channel more than anything at the moment. So uh, go subscribe to my YouTube, I try hard to make my videos, though it's okay if you don't lol. Just a recommendation.
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Go check it out, I would most definitely appreciate it :)
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saeran-imagines · 9 days ago
Ooo can I get a rockstar! AU Saeran relationahip headcanons? Please and thanks!
Thanks for the request!! I wasn’t sure if you wanted the MC to be a part of the band or a fan or something else so I took some creative freedom with this, just let me know if you’d like something different and I’ll be happy to write up something else 🥰 It’s fun to think about how the RFA would react in different AUs and stuffs!
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Hmmm if I were to put the RFA in a band, Jumin would be the manager, Zen would be lead singer, Seven would be lead guitar, Yoosung would be bass guitar, Jaehee would be on drums (on Jumin’s command, but she’d grow to love it) and Saeran would be rhythm guitar. For the sake of this AU I’m putting MC on PR and advertising duties! Though that might be a personal bias because I love that stuff hehe~
The band gets along surprisingly well. Everyone’s close enough and there’s enough problem solvers in the group that any conflicts that come up get resolved quickly. It’s a great group of people to be around and everyone loves having you there!
Saeran would rather leave being the center of attention to the other members, which is the main reason why he took up the position that he did. His sound gracefully ties the rest of the instruments together without any pressure to make a flashy performance. It gets difficult to explain, though- when he says he plays guitar everyone assumes he plays lead or bass. Nobody remembers the rhythm guitarist :’)
Saeran is always looking for ways he can help you out with your job. PR is a big task for one person, after all! More than helping you out directly, he keeps the more obnoxious members at bay. He’ll notice Seven and Zen constantly taking dumb selfies and begging you to put them in flyers, and he’ll gently take them aside and say “hey, maybe you could filter some of your… ideas… through me before asking MC? :)” He’s a lifesaver.
He gets a little embarrassed when you want to listen to him play for you, but he secretly loves it. It relaxes him to get away from the band a bit, but he can get a bit anxious when he’s completely alone so solo sessions are just as stressful. Playing for you and only you is the perfect middleground. It’s one of his favorite things!
If you tell him what your favorite songs are he’ll learn them to play for you, even if they’re not his usual style. He loves sharing his own favorite songs, too, but he’d never bring it up on his own. Please ask him to play them for you! If you catch him in a really good mood he’ll even sing for you. He’s insecure about his singing voice so you’ll have to lean in to hear it, but it’s the softest and sweetest melody you’ll ever hear.
When the band goes on tour Saeran insists you come along, even if he has to stretch to come up with a reason. You know, for “emergency PR situations,” he just wants to be safe! Of course they COULD email you the content to post on social media but… but… it just isn’t the SAME, if you don’t see them perform in person you won’t be able to relay the musical experience to your instagram followers. He thinks he’s being subtle but everyone else in the band knows what’s up.
You’re just his anchor, he wouldn’t be able to play as well without knowing you’re waiting for him at the end of the performance. Whether you’re dating or not, you give him the encouragement and strength he needs for this stressful job. Please hold him he works so hard 😭
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night-rhea · 9 days ago
Let me just combine the two AUs giving me absolute life atm: my own Rockstar AU and your Coffee Shop AU.
Imagine one day this girl pops into the coffee shop, being all nervous and fidgety and pale. Night makes her a giant latte and the girl goes to put flavour shots in it, hands so shaky that she almost spills the whole thing. Night wants to know if she’s alright and they start chatting. The girl introduces herself as Lizzie and notices the drumsticks poking out of Night’s bag. She asks if they play and both instantly bond over their love for drumming, talking until Lizzie is almost running late for the big show she is set to play with her up and coming band that night, but talking to Night made her a lot more relaxed than before. Night is happy they could calm her nerves, laughs and asks to take a picture with her because “maybe we can say a famous drummer came here one day”. Lizzie laughs along, finding the thought hilarious but they do it anyway.
Several years, albums and tours later, Lizzie never ever fails to stop by Khanna Café when they pass through town, whether before a show or on the morning after when she needs an extra shot of espresso in her latte. No one knows how to make a coffee like Night.
💛💚🤘☕️
OH MY, GOD!
Mate thats... Thats so beautiful im- im in tears... 😭
Just the image of Lizzie and Night sitting together and talking for hours, the smiles on their faces, Lizzie calming down without her noticing, in the end of the day Night taking her photo and believing her... Thats.. Thats so beautiful.. 😭
That photo will be in shops wall forever, and Lizzie's fave drink will always be waiting for her...
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I need to know more more and more about your rockstar au know.. So i can daydream about their friendship 😭😭
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