Grojband | Reader Insert

Rock the House

"If you, me, Kon, and (Y/N) meet our fiery death during a chilli cook off gone wrong-"

Kin taps on the chalkboard where he has drawn the band dying, "Corey won't have anyone to play with," he shows off his next picture of the guitarist looking sadly at his friends' gravestones.

Laney and (Y/N), watching him, give the other and Kin a frown.

"So in the event of that happening, I created this!"

Kin raises his arms to Kon, showing off a blue backpack with a yellow latch for an opening.

"'The One-Man-Band pack™!'" he exclaims, "One tug of the string, and all ya gotta do is sing!"

Kin pulls the opening of the backpack, and the bag starts rumbling and making mechanical noises on Kon's back.

"So you planned for our deaths?" Laney deadpans.

(Y/N) makes an appreciative hum, "He definitely planned for mine. You get used to it."

Kin just stands with his hands idly clasped behind his back, glancing back at his brother.

Kon smirks along with him when, out from the backpack and as advertised so well, a bunch of instruments shoot into various positions for Kon to play as he pleased.

Laney and (Y/N) jump back a little, gaping at the effectiveness more than anything.

"That's not even all it does," Kin adds on, pulling out a remote, "It even plays speed metal!"

With the click of the only button on there, the instruments surrounding Kon all play on their own, shaking him as bolts electricity spark from the intensity.

Kon starts to shriek until the entire invention blows up in his face, leaving him slumping around a bunch of broken instruments.

Behind the chalkboard, Laney, (Y/N), and Kin hid from the inevitable explosion.

Kin hums to himself, "Might need some minor adjustments."

"No, really?" (Y/N) punches him in the arm, to which Kin raises his fist to retaliate.

"Cancel your plans!" Everyone looks over to the sound of their band's leader's voice.

Corey rises from the garage's stage, "I entered us in the Peaceville School System's Annual Battle of the Bands!" he raises his index finger.

Laney's eyes narrow, "Core, Peaceville's band battles are never straight up music fights," She walks over to him, "What kind of competition is it this year? Greco-Roman checkers? Quilt to the death?"

(Y/N) raises their hands in a mock-plea, "Oh please, let it be wife-carrying!"

"Chilli cook off!?" The twins zip on stage with Corey and beam.

"Even better," Corey grins, "Extreme curling!"

Kin waggles his lanky arms, "YEAH! The riffs! The speed!" he holds his hands to his heart.

"The high-risk of injury!" Kon squees, sparkles filling his eyes.

Laney's eyes widened, her hands over her head, "Core! Extreme curling is-"

"Ice hockey's lame cousin," (Y/N) finishes the thought with a gag, "No way I'm doing that."

"Yeah, same here," Laney rolls her eyes before raising her arm, "I say we take a vote. All in favor of entering the extreme curling battle and dying before we learn to drive?"

Corey, Kon, and Kin's hands all shoot up, Kon offering one more than needed.

Laney sighs in defeat, "Why do I keep calling these votes?"