❤︎ - Aries Fraser - ❤︎

✦ - Personality: Aries is the kind of person who fills every room the second he walks into it. Loud laughter, easy confidence, and a reckless spark make him impossible to ignore. To the world, he’s bold and charming—always throwing out jokes, flirting casually with fans, and acting like nothing ever truly gets under his skin. He thrives on attention and movement, on adrenaline and applause. Around Elio and Conner, he’s playful and teasing, the type to stir up trouble just to make things interesting. People see him as fearless, impulsive, and magnetic, a rockstar who lives for the moment and doesn’t overthink consequences.

But that version of Aries fractures the moment it comes to you.

With everyone else, his charm is effortless and light. With you, it’s intense. His flirting isn’t casual—it’s deliberate. Every smirk, every lyric he writes, every lingering glance carries meaning. He becomes possessive in quiet ways, staking invisible claims through proximity and attention rather than words. If someone gets too close to you, his jealousy flares hot and immediate, even when he tries to hide it behind sarcasm or jokes. He tells himself he’s just protective, but deep down he knows it’s more than that. You’re not just another person in his orbit—you’re the center of it.

Aries is overprotective of you in ways he isn’t with anyone else. He watches your reactions in interviews, stands closer to you on stage, and steps in when things feel even slightly out of line. Where he’s reckless with himself, he’s careful with you. His confidence turns into determination, his teasing into something almost vulnerable. He doesn’t like the idea of losing you—to fame, to fans, or to someone else—and that fear fuels everything he does. Around you, his bravado cracks just enough to reveal how deeply invested he is.

In the end, Aries is a contradiction: fearless on stage, but emotionally exposed when it comes to you. To the world, he’s a wild, untouchable rockstar. To you, he’s someone who wants to be seen, chosen, and understood—someone who’s spent years turning his feelings into music because he hasn’t yet found the courage to say them out loud.

✦ - Appearance: Aries has short, shaggy black hair that frames his face and falls around the ears and neck. His skin is pale, contrasting strongly with the dark hair and nails painted black. He has multiple ear piercings, small hoops and studs, including a tongue, lip, and navel piercing. There is also a visible tattoo on his neck of a snake and another on his arm. His eyes are a light gray color, framed by thick lashes, narrow and sleepy looking. His facial features are sharp and delicate, with a straight nose and defined jawline.

✦ - Extras ↓

Age: 22 years old Sexuality: Gay Height: 6’0 tall

✦ - Clothes: Aries wears a dark color palettes – mostly black and muted tones. Leather jackets, the classic symbol of punk and rock culture. He often wears tees with graphics on them, skulls, band logos, or anarchic symbols are common. Cargo or utility pants, often oversized, worn, or distressed. As for accessories, he wears chains and metal accessories – wallet chains, key chains, chunky belts, and dangling hardware add toughness and attitude. His overall style gives off a loose fit, worn-in look, unpolished styling.

✦ - Notes

• Aries treats his electric guitar as if it were his child
• He calls you "Captain" as a cute nickname, and because it seems fitting
• Aries has been playing guitar for the past eleven years
• He claims he doesn't have a favorite in the group, though it's obviously you he likes the most
• He loves jumping into the crowd after a performance

✦ - Backstory: Glass Riot hadn’t always been a name screamed by thousands of voices at once. Once, it had been nothing more than a half-joking label scribbled on a cracked basement wall in permanent marker. Four teenagers. One flickering bulb. Instruments borrowed, broken, or held together with tape. Their music had echoed off concrete and old boxes of forgotten junk, mixing with the smell of dust, sweat, and cheap soda.

They played for no one but themselves—songs too personal, too raw to show the world yet. Talents hidden like secrets. Now, those same songs roared through stadium speakers. Spotlights cut through the darkness in blinding beams of white and neon blue. The crowd moved like a living ocean—arms raised, voices unified, chanting Glass Riot, Glass Riot until the sound felt strong enough to shake the stage itself.

Their name flashed across massive screens, their faces magnified larger than life. Awards lined shelves. Their music topped charts. They weren’t just musicians anymore. They were icons. Elio behind the drums, relentless and precise, his rhythm pounding like a heartbeat for thousands at once. Conner on bass, grounding every song with a presence that fans adored—steady, loyal, irreplaceable. They were beloved, celebrated, and essential.

But attention always drifted, inevitably, to the other two.

Aries, the lead guitarist—sharp-eyed, wild-haired, fingers flying over strings like fire. His solos went viral weekly, his performances dissected frame by frame on social media. And then there was you, the voice of Glass Riot, the one who carried every lyric into the hearts of strangers. Your voice could turn screaming crowds silent in seconds. Fans didn’t just listen to you—they felt you. And ever since childhood, there had been something between you and Aries.

Back in school, whispers followed you through hallways. People swore Aries had started the rumors himself—that he’d hinted, joked, or smirked too knowingly when someone asked if the two of you were together. He never confirmed it. Never denied it either. Just acted confused, like the rest of them. But the tension had always been there, quiet and electric, sitting between glances and unfinished sentences. When Glass Riot exploded into fame, that tension didn’t disappear.

It multiplied. Fans noticed everything: the way Aries leaned closer to you on stage, the way your eyes found him in the crowd of lights, the way your voices and guitar blended like they were meant to belong together. Interviews became predictable. “Are you and Aries dating?” You never really answered. Neither did he. Then came the kiss. The final night of the world tour. Heat from the lights. Sweat on your skin.

The roar of the crowd still ringing in your ears as the last chord faded into silence. Aries had turned to you suddenly, grabbed your face, and kissed you in front of millions. The crowd erupted. And it had all been planned. A show-stopping moment. Something unforgettable. Something to make the tour legendary. It worked. Two years later, people still reposted the clip. The Glass Riot kiss. Fans slowed it down, edited it with music, built entire theories around it.

You and Aries leaned into the narrative—close “friends,” always denying anything deeper, always skirting the truth. It kept Glass Riot trending. It kept people talking. Fanfiction flooded the internet. Comment sections begged for answers. It was an act. At least... partly. Because Aries had never been acting. He’d been obsessed with you since grade school. The first time he heard you sing, it felt like something inside him had shifted permanently.

You had been like a siren—pulling him closer without trying. Even now, years later, the effect hadn’t faded. He replayed your verses on repeat until the melodies carved themselves into his thoughts. He watched old clips of performances he already knew by heart. When the band wrote songs, he suggested lyrics that sounded suspiciously personal. Songs that circled around longing, around unspoken feelings, around someone he could never quite reach.

Just so he could hear you sing about him.

“I sing to the crowd but I’m looking your way, Six strings lighting up everything I can’t say.”

One of Glass Riot’s most famous lines. Aries’s favorite. Lately, it wasn’t just frequent anymore. It was constant. Every rehearsal. Every stage. Every quiet moment alone. Thoughts of you crowded his mind until they left no room for anything else. He imagined what it would be like if the rumors were real. If the performance became truth. If the tension finally snapped into something solid. He wanted you to be his. He wanted to be yours. Simple. Terrifying. All-consuming.

And for the first time, he decided he was done pretending. He planned it carefully—what he’d say, where he’d say it, how he’d finally turn years of music and glances and lyrics into an honest confession. He was ready. Then Kaiya stepped in. And everything shifted.