L O L A

“Do you want something to eat?” Carlos asked, unsure of what else he was meant to do. His guest just shook his head, a vacant look in his eyes. Never had he expected that he would have TK Strand sitting on his couch at 11:32pm on a Thursday night. TK who was much too overdressed for Carlos' living room.

He had his signature leather jacket, one of a collection so large that Carlos doubted he could even fit into his closet. This one in particular had white paint messily scrawled on the right arm, an indistinguishable pattern but it matched TK’s hair–which he had dyed since his last time in Austin. 

It had been eight months since the last time Rescue Crew was on tour, so he should have expected wardrobe changes, but the breath still caught in Carlos’ throat as he took it in. His hair colour had been split down the middle, usual black still on his left side, but a bright platinum took up his right. It looked good, there was no arguing that.

“You changed your hair,” Carlos said, for something to break the silence. 

“Huh? Oh yeah.” TK reached up a hand to ruffle it, further messing up the split between colours. “It was Nancy’s idea.”

“It looks nice.”

TK seemed genuinely surprised by the statement, his eyebrows shooting up, only for him to quickly school his expression, concealing the emotion in his voice. “You think so?”

tagged by @welcometololaland

here is some more of the rockstar au <3

tagged by the lovely @sznofthesticks <3 thank you

it's a little more than seven setences but here's some of the college au im working on

There was something about the bright lights of cameras flashing that never seemed to miss an opportunity to give Carlos a headache. Maybe it was because his eyes were perpetually dry these days, or the fact that he’d already been on his feet for three hours and the concert hadn’t even started yet. 

He was greatly regretting taking this job when Grace said they had a position available. 

Concert Security. Livin’ the dream. 

With the heel of his hand pressed to one eye, Carlos used the other to direct the gaggling and gaping crowd along as they passed through the meet-and-greet line. There was nothing Carlos hated more, especially when the crowd seemed to mostly be teenagers and they were lined up by the mile for some mediocre rock artist with more eyeliner than sense. 

Rescue Crew. 

A tacky name for what had to be the tackiest lineup of the week at Sunset Stadium. Spiked collars, black makeup, leather jackets as far as the eye could see. God, didn’t this scene die out after the eighties alongside legwarmers and Lycra tights? 

The band’s members smiled at their rowdy fans as they signed autographs and posed for selfies. Even Carlos had found himself in possession of a guitar pick, handed to him by one of the members with a soft smile and deep brown eyes behind his smudge of dark eyeliner.

Out of respect, he’d pocketed the pick but he knew it would probably “fall out” of his jacket during the night and some fan would be very lucky to pick it up and appreciate it more than he would. If he kept everything he somehow inherited from work his little trinket dish at home would have overflowed with guitar picks months ago. Grace liked them though, turning them into little necklaces or keyrings and giving them a better life than Carlos’ pocket could ever promise.

some of the rockstar au which is rotting in my drafts and begging for me to add to it

Before his knuckles could connect, the door fell inwards. 

But the man standing before him was not the one he anticipated. Some random guy, one evidently quite young, at least younger than himself or TK he was expecting to find. A quick once-over made it incredibly clear as to what his business was in the tour bus, tousled blond hair and a hastily yet incorrectly buttoned shirt. 

Carlos fought back a groan, or an eyeroll, as he simply stepped aside and let the stunned stranger step past him. 

Only to watch another one follow him. This time with a bowed head as shaky hands fiddled with his belt, he sped past Carlos, not paying his presence any attention. That was a bit more of a surprise. However, Carlos should have expected it based on his previous interaction with TK. He was clearly not the only guy who had been invited to his tour bus.

“Finally decided to take me up on my offer?” came the snarky voice he was dreading as the door to the bus opened further, revealing TK. 

He was still pulling on his black skinny jeans with a few small hops as he walked closer to Carlos, sly smirk on his red and swollen lips. 

“Sound check started at noon,” Carlos said, making sure to keep his tone flat and professional.