Vampira!

Toki Wartooth

Toki is absolutely starstruck when he first meets you, but not in the way you'd expect. He's not impressed by the fame or the glamour, he's genuinely in awe of your music. He's a huge softie who loves melody and emotion, and your pop songs hit him right in the chest. The first time he hears you sing, he gets this dreamy look on his face and whispers "So prettys…" under his breath.

He's a little intimidated by you at first. You're this polished, glittering pop star with millions of fans, and he's just this goofy metalhead who still sleeps with stuffed animals. He fumbles over his words constantly when you first start talking, his cheeks turning bright red every time you smile at him. It takes him forever to actually form a coherent sentence around you.

Once he gets comfortable, he's the sweetest, most devoted boyfriend you could ask for. He's genuinely obsessed with everything you do. He watches all your performances, knows all your songs by heart, and will absolutely belt them out at the top of his lungs when he thinks nobody's listening. He's especially fond of your ballads, they make him emotional every single time.

He loves the contrast between your worlds. You're all glitter and sequins and choreographed perfection, and he's…well, Toki. He finds it hilarious and adorable. He'll show up to your shows in his battle vest and corpse paint, standing in the crowd looking completely out of place but cheering louder than anyone. Your fans are confused but charmed.

Toki is so proud of you. He brags about you constantly to anyone who'll listen, and even people who won't. "Dat's my girlfriends!" he'll announce to random strangers, pointing at you on a billboard or TV screen. He's completely shameless about it. He thinks you're the most talented person on the planet and he wants everyone to know it.

He loves your creative process. He'll sit and watch you write songs for hours, totally mesmerized. Sometimes he'll hum little melodies or suggest lyrics in his broken English, and even though they're usually ridiculous ("Maybe sing about…cookies? Cookies are nice"), his earnestness is so endearing that you always consider it.

He's surprisingly protective of you. The metal world can be dismissive of pop music, and Toki shuts that down immediately. If anyone calls your music "fake" or "not real art," his usually sweet demeanor vanishes and he gets genuinely angry. "You don't know nothing! Her musics is beautiful and she works so hard and you're just jealous!" He's like a defensive little puppy.

Toki loves the glamour of your world. He thinks your costumes are amazing, your makeup is "sparkly and prettys" and he loves when you dress him up for fun. He'll let you put glitter on his face and style his hair and he'll just sit there beaming because you're paying attention to him. He's so easy to please.

He gets separation anxiety when you're on tour. He'll call you constantly, leaving rambling voicemails about his day and how much he misses you. "I saw a bird today. It made me think of yous because you're pretty like a bird. Not that you look like bird. You look like…you. I miss yous. Okay bye." He's a mess and you adore him.

Toki is your biggest cheerleader. No matter how big you get, he never treats you differently. To him, you're not "famous pop star", you're just his girlfriend who happens to be incredibly talented. He makes you feel normal and loved in a world that constantly tries to put you on a pedestal. He doesn't want the pop star. He wants you.

He's so physically affectionate it's almost overwhelming. He's constantly touching you, holding your hand, playing with your hair, wrapping his arms around you from behind. He's like a koala. He doesn't care about cameras or paparazzi either; if he wants to kiss you in public, he's going to do it. Your PR team has learned to accept this.

Toki cries at your shows. Every single time. He gets so overwhelmed with pride and emotion that he just tears up, standing in the crowd with his little face all scrunched up. Afterward he'll hug you so tight and go "You were so goods! I'm so proud! I cried!" like it's the first time every time.

Charles Foster Offdensen

Charles is professional to a fault, so when he first meets you, probably through some industry event or Dethklok-related crossover, he's all business. Firm handshake, polite smile, completely unreadable. But underneath that immaculate suit and stoic expression, he's absolutely done for. You're radiant, talented, and you have no idea what you're doing to him.

He tries so hard to keep things professional. He really does. But there's something about you that makes him forget his carefully constructed boundaries. The way you laugh, the way you command a stage, the way you look at him like he's actually interesting, it all breaks down his walls faster than he'd like to admit.

Charles is incredibly supportive of your career. He understands the industry better than almost anyone, and he genuinely respects what you do. Pop music might not be his personal taste, but he admires the work ethic, the discipline, the sheer grind of it all. He'll sit through your concerts with a perfectly neutral expression while internally being blown away.

He's the ultimate behind-the-scenes boyfriend. He'll quietly handle things for you without making a big deal about it. vetting contracts, dealing with difficult producers, making sure you're getting fair treatment. He never takes credit, just makes your life easier and acts like it's nothing. You have to actively corner him to get him to admit he did something sweet.

Charles is surprisingly soft with you in private. The stern, serious manager who terrifies everyone at Dethklok melts when you're alone together. He'll let you lean against him while he reads through documents, run his fingers through your hair absently, press gentle kisses to your forehead when you're stressed. He's a total secret softie and would deny it with his dying breath.

He's protective in a quiet, lethal way. He knows the dark side of the entertainment industry intimately, and he's not about to let anything touch you. If someone tries to take advantage of you, they suddenly find their career mysteriously…complicated. Charles has connections everywhere, and he's not afraid to use them for you.

He loves your confidence. The way you walk on stage and own every single person in that audience? He finds it incredibly attractive. He'll watch you from the wings with this barely-there smile, arms crossed, looking like he's just supervising, but his eyes are full of pride and want.

Charles is your anchor in the chaos of fame. When everything gets too loud, too demanding, too much, he's the steady presence you can count on. He'll pull you into his office, close the door, and just let you breathe in the silence. No pressure, no expectations. Just peace.

He's not great at expressing emotions verbally, but he shows his love through acts of service. He'll have your favorite tea ready when you get off stage. He'll handle that difficult interview you were dreading. He'll rearrange his entire schedule to be at your important shows. He's always there, even when he doesn't say much.

Charles is slightly intimidated by your fame, though he'd never admit it. He knows your world is full of beautiful, talented people, and sometimes he wonders what you see in a perpetually stressed manager who lives in suits and paperwork. But you look at him like he's the only person in the room, and that quiets every insecurity.

He's surprisingly romantic in his own stiff way. He plans dates with the same precision he plans Dethklok's tours. meticulously, perfectly, down to the smallest detail. Candlelit dinners at exclusive restaurants, private concerts, weekend getaways at secluded villas. He spoils you completely but acts like it's just "practical planning."

He loves seeing you happy. Your genuine smile, the one that reaches your eyes, is his favorite thing in the world. He'll do anything to see it, even if that means doing something completely out of character. If you want to drag him to a karaoke bar or make him dance with you in the kitchen, he'll do it. Grudgingly. With a tiny smile on his face.

Charles is your biggest defender. He never lets anyone diminish your accomplishments or reduce you to just a "pop star." He corrects people who underestimate you with cold, precise language that makes them feel small. He knows how hard you work, how talented you are, and he'll make sure everyone else knows it too.

“sorry,” you muttered under your breath, fighting the urge to roll your eyes.

“would it really kill you to listen to me for once?” he asked, withdrawing his arm from its place on your waist.

“would it really kill you to talk about something besides hellfire?” you responded snarkily.

“i don’t always talk about hellfire,” he said defensively.

“yeah right,” you responded, turning the corner. “it’s always dnd this, mike that, dustin this, hellfire that. i’ll shut up right now if you can name three of my friends.”

he looked at you, brows furrowed, before scoffing. the video store was now in sight.

“i don’t wanna get into this with you right now,” he said, turning away.

“name three of my friends, eddie,” you spoke boldly.

“i said i don’t wanna get into this with you right now,” he spoke through clenched teeth, almost yelling.

“whatever. fuck you,” you said, giving him the finger before stepping into the video store alone.

“babe!” he yelled, running into the store after you, “y/n!”

you rolled your eyes, not even turning to look at him.

“uh oh, trouble in paradise,” steve commented from the counter.

all you heard next was a muttered ‘sorry’ from steve, leading you to believe that eddie had shot him a dirty look.

you turned the corner in the small store, now browsing the titles. you continued to search, unbothered, but you didn’t find anything that interested you. you waked back up to the front.

“you done?” eddie asked.

“didn’t find anything?” steve asked after.

“nope,” you replied, not even glancing in eddie’s direction.

just then, steve’s coworker, robin, stepped in. you were familiar with her, considering you were in the same grade and you’d seen her in the halls, but you’d never actually talked to her.

“we just got some new titles. i can take you to the back if you wanna see them,” robin offered.

“sure,” you shrugged.

“i’m going to the corner store,” eddie muttered.

you followed robin into the back room and you heard the door at the front shut.

“were you looking for anything in particular?” robin asked from beside you.

“not really, maybe just something scary,” you responded, your eyes trained on the movies in front of you.

“cool,” she smiled.

you looked up at her and met her eyes, returning the smile. you’d never really looked at robin. you took in her features, noticing how pretty she was. when you realized that you’d been staring, you shook your head slightly and turned back to the vhs tapes. the next thing you felt was robin. she was standing right next to you, your arms grazing. you could feel her warmth, you could even smell her perfume. your heartbeat accelerated a bit, and for a moment it was as though you couldn’t function. you stopped, frozen, mentally scorning yourself.

you have a boyfriend, y/n, you told yourself.

“oh, here. this one’s really good. have you ever watched it?” she asked, holding out a movie.

“no, i don’t think so,” you answered.

“great!” she cheered, beginning to walk in the direction of the counter.

“wait,” you called, reaching out to grab her arm.

once you realized what you’d done, you quickly dropped your hand. robin turned to face you with a questioning smile, her brows furrowed slightly.

“since i’m uh, already here,” you stuttered, “do you have any other movie recommendations?”

“sure!” she said as she searched the titles.

you waited for a moment before she triumphantly held up a movie.

“here it is,” she said.

“rumble fish?” you asked.

“have you watched it?” she asked.

“yeah, i have. i don’t mind watching it again, though,” you spoke.

“i love it,” robin enthused.

“diane lane looks super hot in it,” you said before you could stop yourself.

your cheeks felt hot and your gaze dropped.

“she does,” robin agreed.

you looked back up at robin, her cheeks tinted pink, a small smile on her face. when your eyes met hers, you could see a hint of desire in them. you immediately knew she was feeling the same things as you were. when a flirty smile came onto her lips, you knew it was your chance to make a move. you stepped forward and kissed her. your arms moved to her cheeks as you tried to pull robin closer. she pulled away slightly.

“what about eddie?” she asked in a whisper, your faces only centimetres apart.

“we were doomed from the start,” you answered hastily, aching to have robin’s lips on yours, ”don’t worry about us.”

she hesitated before shrugging and closing the gap again. you felt her smile into the kiss and you did the same. the kiss was becoming more intense and lustful by the second. she pulled away only to take a breath before they were attacking your neck. your head was thrown back in pleasure. you tried to process what was going on but all you could focus on was how badly you wanted to go further. her hands sneaked their way into your shirt as she pulled you towards her even more.

when she was satisfied with what you were sure was a massive hickey, she went back to kissing you.

“y/n!” you heard eddie’s voice call from the other room, muffled slightly due to the closed door.

you could’ve sworn you’d never been more upset to hear anyones voice ever.

“i guess you’ve gotta head back out there,” robin said disappointedly, rubbing the back of her neck.

“i guess so,” you said.

you spotted a pen in her breast pocket and took it out. you looked around for a piece of paper but didn’t find one. eager to make sure she’d contact you again, you wrote it on her arm.

“call me,” you said flirtatiously before opening the door and stepping out. you quickly checked out the movies and made your way to the exit. eddie’s arm had found its way around your waist again. you turned back around and found robin already looking at her. you sent her a quick wink that made her blush once again and watched as she fought a smile before you were out of the store. you called a nearby cab.

“eddie, we’re over.”

--

One of those relationships where you just seem to slip into dating without ever having an official conversation about it. Late nights watching game show reruns and talking shit turned into waking up the next morning slumped together, still in yesterday's clothes. He collapsed onto the couch and settled in with his shoulder against yours one time, and it became a habit practically overnight.

If you ever get around to sitting him down and asking the dreaded, "What are we," question...

"I dunno," He mumbles with a shrug, pulling his legs up and propping his heels against the edge of the cot, "Never really thought about it." "Yeah, but do want that kind of thing?" You push, drawing your legs to your chest and letting your head loll to rest your temple on your knee, "I don't know, I just figured I should ask before it got too weird." "Was it weird before you asked?" He posits with a wave of his hand, the smoldering joint between his fingers trailing smoke. "Well... no." "Then it won't be weird later. People get so hung up on this kinda shit, man. The label's not important. Are you havin' a good time?" He's doing his best to look blasé and philosophical, but his eyes keep darting toward you while he waits for your answer. He licks his lips and busies himself with taking another drag. He's pinching the joint too hard- the paper is crumpling between his fingers. "Yeah." You admit, readjusting to lean against the mechanic. He switches the joint to his off hand and wraps an arm around your shoulders. You feel the weight settle on you when he tips his head over to rest on top of yours. He hovers the joint just shy of your lips as an invitation. "Wanna have an even better time?"

It's said that you can tell an addict by the quality of the substance they use- true addicts aren't looking for a certain taste of alcohol or a certain kind of high, they just want to leave the world behind. Palmer? He smokes weed at the same frequency Childs smokes cigs, and it isn't shitty leaf, either. He knows everything there is to know about different strains and their uses. Sure, he always has that musky undertone typical of any stoner, but it's sharper and cleaner- almost citrusy. It clings to him like his own personal fog. You're sure if life were a cartoon he'd look like Pig Pen from Peanuts.

If you haven't smoked before meeting him, he's happy to be your trip sitter! Has a stash of "beginner stuff" that he was saving for Windows cause he's sure that Windows high has got to be less high-strung than Windows sober, but uh... he thinks it'll be more worthwhile to give it to you.

So casually and openly affectionate all of the damn time. Flops onto the couch and immediately throws an arm over your shoulders. Shoves his hand into your parka pocket and weaves his freezing cold fingers with yours. Snorts and whines, "What? 'm fuckin' freezin', here," if you call him out on it, one side of his mouth pulling into a lazy smirk.

Comes in for a kiss kind of like a bumblebee trying to land on a flower. Hovers near you for a moment and then very slowly starts to lean in. Adjusts his trajectory as he goes, and the result is a clumsy sort of circling motion as he tracks your movements and tries to correct accordingly. Always tilts his head to the left. When he finally comes in for a landing, the kiss is a lazy, open-mouthed thing. He's not going to make out with you in front of the guys, but he's very firmly pressing his mouth to yours and just lingering for a moment like he's savoring the taste of you (he is).

Has a similar approach when shotgunning, but he stabilizes himself with a hand on your shoulder or the back of your neck. Can't waste precious weed, y'know. Exhales very slowly to let the taste sink in. Lingers millimeters away from you while you hold the breath he just gave you. Doesn't care if you blow smoke in his face- he's fixing you with a lopsided grin and going in for a very sloppy, very giggly kiss.

This man has wandered into multiple blizzards with no gear on. That 60s acid damage did a number on him, and he's convinced that nothing can kill him. He's an official member of the 100 and 200 Club, and if you don't keep an eye on him, he might inadvertently try for 300. Be ready to trail after him and grab his parka on your way out the front door.

Please play board games with this man. He can cheat like a motherfucker, and Mac's pretty fun to cheat against when the pilot isn't completely smashed, but actively trying to play a game honestly after years of rigging the system is surprisingly challenging for him. Additionally, if you bring a game he hasn't played before, you'll have this guy in your back pocket in no time. He's surveying the board state with wide, eager eyes and already reaching for his pieces without having read the instructions. He'll figure it out as he goes. That's the best way to learn, anyhow.

God forbid you bring anything even vaguely war or strategy related (Risk, Battleship, Pandemic) with you to the station. He's taking at least five minutes per turn to explain the logic behind his moves and exactly what effect they'll have. Or, if you're not careful...

"They really did that, y'know." "What?" Palmer sets his cards aside and gestures to your part of the board, "Dumped experimental drugs on some of our guys. There was this thing called The Ladder, like PCP on steroids, and our own government sent it over to Vietnam..." It takes him another ten minutes to explain the experiment to you, and by the time he's done, you're slumped back in your chair and slack-jawed. "So... does that mean I made a good move? In the game?" "Oh sure, but I already know how the whole conspiracy works, so your ass is grass."

Can fall asleep in literally any conditions. You'll feel the weight of his head on your shoulder while the chopper is actively bobbing and weaving through turbulence. He can sleep sitting straight up in a steel folding chair and not fall out of it.

Likes to sleep with you in a sort of haphazard pile. Falls asleep on his back most of the time and pulls you on top of himself like his own personal blanket. Doesn't care if you're on your stomach or laying with your back to his chest- he'll throw one arm around your waist and tuck the other under his pillow. You're in charge of the blanket if you want to be covered- he's already asleep once his head hits the pillow.

I just personally feel like he'd be incredibly dense about it all before you tell him, sorry not sorry loll!

You can't go into the sun without full coverage of your body? "Ah, well I get it 'roo, sometimes being physically perceived is intimidatin'."

Refusing to eat, touch, or even just be in the same room as garlic in any form? "You must have a terrible allergy to this stuff if you stay so bloody far away, I would bring you to the doc so he could work his magic, but... I'm sure you can guess why I'm against it."

Biting him, puncturing his skin, and feeding off of his blood? "Shit— I, uh, didn't know you were... Into this sorta stuff, I won't judge though, just... Maybe keep this between us, yeah? Don't want the fellas giving us trouble over it."

Literally morphing into a bat and flying away? "Man, I never was super big into magic tricks but... When it's you, I don't really mind."

Straight-out telling him "I'm 5000 years old"? "Yeah, I feel like that too sometimes. Mainly when I'm having trouble gettin' out o' bed because of my back pain from being hunched over all day for work, even more so when I see that wanker scout first thing in the morning doin' laps around the base simply for fun. Mentally, aren't we all just 5000 years old on a Monday?"

At some point you just have to sit him down and explicitly be open about it, he's not one to assume things about you even if the evidence is staring him down directly.

He'll blush and rub the back of his neck in embarrassment, trying to play it off like he was previously just kidding around— but I'm sure you're not dense enough to actually fall for his propaganda.

Once he's actually made aware of it though, not that much really changes other than his better understanding of why you do the things you do. He's surprisingly laid back and casual about dating an immortal otherworldly entity.

divider cr: @petalpxl