multifandom oneshots/preferences

lix. figured it out--craig jones (slipknot)

a/n: idk why but i wanna do this with a ghost ghoul too hehe

It's been a slow night at the bookstore. Most weeknights are. The most you'll get on a Thursday night like this is a bored middle aged woman looking for either toe-curling smut or wisdom and a few stressed college students who need a book in a hurry. 

That's why the store is only ever staffed with you, one of the managers of the store, and another person on weeknights. 

Tonight, that person happens to be Craig, a reticent metalhead with a pretty impressive catalog of ways to fold paper airplanes in his head. 

"Got any plans after work?" you ask as you doodle on a receipt, leaning on the counter.

"I've got a show to do," Craig sighs. "Not too psyched for it, but I gotta do it anyway."

"No way, I'm going to a concert tonight."

"Hm, where is it?"

"This one shitty club on 46th street...damn, what's it called?"

"Bangle's?" Craig raises an eyebrow.

"That one," you snap your fingers.

"Yeah, we've played there before," your coworker smiles a bit. "It's always an experience."

"I've never seen this group, though. Slipknot, if you know them? They wear masks and shit. I used to think it was cringy and kinda tryhard, but they're really growing on me."

Craig releases the breath he sucked in halfway through that sentence and simply nods. He's not about to let you know that you're seeing his band, mostly because he doesn't want people coming to his shows to see him.

"I don't know why, but I cannot stop listening to nu metal lately. I love System of a Down, I love Korn and Static-X and Mushroomhead," you tell your coworker. "That's what I'm told Slipknot is, just heavier."

"More or less," Craig mutters. 

"Hm?" 

"Uh, yeah, probably."

...

You get ready for the concert, putting on final eyeliner touches before you grab your keys and step out of your apartment. 

The drive to the club is short and you get yourself a drink, arriving just as the band starts. 

And holy shit are you glad you're not late. 

These people are heavy and angry and batshit and it's everything you've wanted. It's such a different experience from their cassette you've listened to. It almost makes you nauseous with the rawness of pain the singer radiates. 

It's pretty fucking beautiful, to be honest. 

After the show, the band comes down to the floor with the rest of the plebians. They gather at the bar before all going separate ways. There's a bit of relative quiet until you feel a light tap on your shoulder. You glance behind you to see it's the bassist, still all masked up and everything. 

"Hey," you greet with a small smile. "You killed it tonight."

"Thank you," you hear a smile under his mask. "You seemed pretty into it."

"Heh, I forget that you can still kind of see in the masks," you roll your eyes and take a hearty drink of your wine. 

"If you want, we're playing a few more shows in the area, might as well come out and join the groupies."