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abiiors · 7 months

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queen of hearts // matty healy x reader

valentine's week - day 6: queen of hearts

a/n: this is. Not Good. the burnout is hitting me now lol this is okayish now after the major edit wc: breakups i think but that's it cw: 4.1 k

“i can be your date to the awards.”

matty’s words freeze you in your tracks and you whip your head to him, almost dropping your coffee in the process. he’s half-leaning half-sitting on the table, flicking through a trashy tabloid of all things that you wish would set on fire right about now. but it doesn’t. and so matty continues to flick through it without even looking up at you while he’s just dropped this bomb on you.

you know what’s caught his fancy… you know there’s going to be some iteration of “the queen of hearts suffers heartbreak” in there. (because let’s face it, the tabloids are never creative enough to think of other headlines and they’ve used this one almost every time you’ve had a public break up before)

you suppose you should count your lucky stars they didn’t find out right away, that you at least got three months to yourself before the news first broke.

“what makes you think i need a date?”

he thumbs over to another page, still looking just as insufferably cool as ever. “your ex is going. ooohh, ouch! he’s going with someone you’re up against in almost every category, babe.”

“i don’t care,” you turn your nose up at him, “and don’t call me babe.”

matty puts the magazine down and finally looks at you.

from the corner of your eye you catch the headline—the queen of heartbreak—along with a photo of you and jack, a dramatic slash going between the two of you. you remember that night, you remember going to a charity gala with him and sneaking out to make out in one of the forgotten hallways. you remember feeling invisible in the best of ways for the first time in your life.

a pang goes through your chest and you bring your attention back to matty.

“in fact, i might not even go.”

“really?” he raises an eyebrow and crosses his arms in front of him. your eyes betray you by flicking to his biceps that strain against the sleeve of the flannel he’s wearing, but you quickly look back at him and blink the thoughts away.

you sigh, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. “no, that’s– yeah, no. skipping's not an option. my publicist would kill me. plus, they already have a dress for me and it’s too gorgeous to be wasted like this.”

“and you think going solo is a good idea,” his eyes flick to the tabloid and you can already see the headlines that would be written about you. all the staged and well-timed photos of you sneaking even a single glance at jack and his date, all the speculation of jealousy and cheating. just think about it makes your temples ache.

“no… i guess not.”

matty grins, “so take me as your date then.”

you take a moment to assess him. he’s certainly hot, (objectively speaking, of course) and going with him would create a…splash to say the least. and if you were being honest with yourself, you kinda dig the anti hero persona he’s got going at the moment.

on the other hand, your publicist might blow a blood vessel trying to clean up your image.

you look at the tabloid again, at the “queen of heartbreak” printed in big bold ugly letters all across the front page. it’s fucking tiring being so synonymous with love songs. it’s tiring singing about romance and yearning and love while your happily ever after comes crumbling all around you.

“okay,” you say and matty smiles wide. you smile back.

and for the first time in three months, it’s a real genuine smile.

you see him around the studio a few more times after that—sometimes with his band, sometimes alone. mostly he’s running around, busy with his own thing and not really playing much attention to anyone around him. you on the other hand, sit in the twin of his studio space.

on most days your head feels empty, not a single song lyric or even a catchy riff in there. not a single thing scribbled in your notebook for months. you know what’s expected of you—another romance pop album to sweep everyone off their feet. your management has been very clear about that—it’s what gets the numbers and it’s what they want from you.

it doesn’t matter what you want. it’s never mattered.

you try everything—walking around the property with your notebook in your hands, hoping to find some inspiration. you listen to your old songs, cringing at how empty they sound, how soulless and exactly like the one before. happy to the point of feeling cognitive dissonance.

as a last resort, you even look up photos of you and jack, just to see if it would spark…anything.

all it does is annoy you more. he’s already got a new girlfriend, the same girl who’s supposed to be his date. you imagine the buzz around their red carpet debut and then think back to your own—how much the tabloid had gushed over you, calling you the perfect couple. a couple that just “made sense”

the perfect king to their queen of hearts.

you close your eyes and lean your head back against the bark of a tree. it’s nice here at least, it’s calm. the place is so far away from the city, you could just disappear for a few months and just not do anything.

but peace has never come to you without a price.

not even five minutes later, a loud guitar riff splits the air followed by raucous laughter. (it’s surprising to you that you already recognise matty’s laugh) standing up, you dust off your jeans and follow the sounds. the guitar only gets louder the more you walk, until you see a group of people around a little barbecue.

matty’s holding his guitar like a classic douchebag rockstar, sunglasses dangling over his nose and arm muscles flexed and veins taut against his forearms as he strums the bright red guitar. it’s so much different from what their music usually sounds like. the notes aren’t very loud or angry but they’re certainly powerful. stronger than anything you’ve ever played before.

it makes you stop in your tracks and watch him.

you just stand there—captivated by the music, captivated by him. it only takes matty a couple more seconds to notice you, and you look away, flustered.

“enjoying the show?” he asks, a sly grin playing on his lips. warmth creeps up your cheeks.

“no, sorry. i was just round the corner and heard you. sorry didn’t mean to intrude—”

“relax,” he laughs and sets the guitar aside. you recognise the others behind him—his band, for one. you’ve seen the other three men with him in countless photos and award shows but the others are unfamiliar.

“that was… really good,” you laugh and tuck a strand of hair behind your ears. matty’s eyes follow the movement. “something new?”

“something old actually. very old. it’s called 28, from when we used to perform under drive like i do.”

that’s news to you so you just nod your head, unsure what to say. “it sounded really good. powerful.”

matty’s eyes flick over your face for a moment, taking you in with such intensity that you feel utterly shy for a moment, almost like a part of you is laid bare—there’s no creative makeup to conceal imperfections on your face, no team of stylists to dress you and style your hair. in front of matty, in just jeans and a t-shirt and your hair in a braid, you’re just…a person. as ordinary as it gets.

“didn’t think it would be your kind of music,” he says after a second and you look down, toeing the grass.

“i didn’t either…” the words are so soft, they’re barely audible. matty opens his mouth to say something but panic shoots through you like a spear. you know he’s going to ask you to join, and music is the last thing on your mind.

“i gotta go,” you mumble, already backing away. matty’s face shifts from a smile to a confused frown. he lifts his hand, almost wraps his fingers around your wrist but matty thinks better of it at the last moment and drops it.

you don’t stay long enough to hear what he says, you just run back to the studio and try to forget this ever happened.

the days leading up to the awards are a whirlwind of preparations—from dress fittings to speech preparation to meeting with stylists, it’s exhausting. at least it keeps your mind off, well, everything else. but mostly it keeps you too busy to interact with any more journalists or paps. the most they get are photos of you going to a couple dress fittings and back to your car.

none of it distracts you from matty though. even though you haven’t since him the weeks that you’ve been back in the city (he’s still back in the studio), you find yourself lingering on thoughts of him throughout the day. even though you haven’t talked to him since then, you find yourself wishing you’d exchanged phone numbers.

but most surprisingly, you don’t think about jack at all. not even once (unless his face just so happens to be on some magazine cover or the other). he simply exists in the periphery, mostly out of sight and out of mind.

your publicist, emma, does blow a blood vessel when you first tell her about bringing matty as your plus one. she’s older than most other people on your team, has been in this industry far longer than you have, so her disapproval stings a bit.

“matty? healy? are you sure about that?” she side-eyes you when you first break the news to her, taking you aback just a bit.

“why, what’s wrong with him?”

she chews on her bottom lip for a second and you hold your breath, waiting for her to flat-out say that this is a bad idea. “he’s not the most…popular right now.”

you roll your eyes. “well if that’s the only thing that’s wrong with him then i’d still like to take him.” and then as an afterthought, you add a “please”.

“fine,” she shrugs and that is the end of that. she asks no more questions, makes none of her personal feelings known. and while on some days you appreciate that degree of professionalism, on others you just need…a friend.

but emma goes back on her phone, already making a call to someone and you swallow all the words that are on the tip of your tongue.

your heart’s in your throat from the moment you step inside the limousine. it’s standard for you—get inside the car, stare outside from the heavily tinted windows until it’s time to compose yourself for the cameras. somehow, tonight feels different, and definitely not because you have more nominations than you’ve had ever before.

“where’s matty?” you ask emma who’s texting on her phone.

“oh, we’re picking him up from his hotel. ten more minutes.”

with trembling fingers you unlock your phone, getting the pin wrong twice before searching him up on instagram. without his number that’s the only way you have to contact him and you wonder if he’s even going to check his instagram dms. but you send out a quick prayer and type out a message anyway.

ready for tonight?

i guess i should say sorry in advance for all the dating rumours we’re about to fuel

then you cringe and stare out the window again, wondering if that was too forward of you to say. it has been weeks since you talked to him afterall. who knows if he’s even excited about this anymore or if he’s simply doing it as an obligation.

your phone buzzes with an incoming dm.

ready and waiting :)

and being linked to you doesn’t sound so bad

in spite of the rumours, that makes you smile, and the car takes a turn towards the driveway of a swanky hotel. almost reflexively, you fix your hair (they’re perfectly done) and smooth any folds in your dress (it fits you like a glove). it’s only the lack of a mirror that stops you from obsessively checking your makeup but you still take a quick glance at your phone’s screen and make sure everything’s in place.

it shouldn’t be this nerve-wracking. it’s just an award show, you’ve done this a hundred times in the past but then the car rolls to a stop and suddenly someone’s opening the door.

you smell him before you see him—expensive perfume and cigarettes, like it’s his signature scent. and then you see him.

matty’s in a sleek black tux, curls tamed for the night with some hair gel and even then some of them manage to escape, falling on his forehead and into his eyes. his eyes look darker somehow, more intense, and they widen when his gaze lands on you.

against your better judgment, you feel a sense of satisfaction when his gaze trails down to the low, low neckline of your dress and back up to your red-painted lips. then back to your eyes before matty clears his throat and gets inside the car. you take advantage of his distraction to steal another look at him. and yep, he’s just as hot as always.

if anything, the tux makes him almost irresistible.

“hi,” he smiles, right next to you now and you try not to lean into his warmth.

“hi” you smile back, uncharacteristically shy. “ready for tonight?”

“you already asked me that.”

colour blooms on your cheeks and you look away for a second, mortified that you have nothing else to say but a second later matty snickers making you roll your eyes at him.

“relax, sweetheart. we’ll be great.” his eyes slide up your face again, dipping to your mouth just for half a second, quick enough that you would have missed it if you blinked. “why are you nervous anyway. thought you’d be a pro by now.”

“‘s not that, i just– the vultures,” you surprise yourself with how intense you sound then, how angry. “sorry, the press. they’d probably leave no chance to find links between me and jack and i’m just… fed up. i’ve had enough now.”

“the vultures,” he says pointedly, “can suck my dick—”

“matty!”

“no i’m serious.”

you look at him properly then, at how earnest he looks. then matty places his hand right next to yours, palm up and open. “we’ll do it together.”

you can only manage a nod, and then you place your hand in his, mentally preparing yourself for the chaos.

as the car pulls up to the red carpet, everything suddenly feels charged as a livewire. the flashing lights, the screams of fans, and the swarm of photographers are all part of the routine. still, it never gets old.

still, you never fully get used to it.

matty’s first to step out, extending his hand out to you—the absolute portrait of a gentleman—and so you take it, stepping out of the limousine. the moment your feet touch the carpet, the cameras go wild.

matty’s hand around yours is warm, comforting. it astonishes you how familiar it feels despite holding his hand for the first time. and even though you can barely hear anything over the camera shutters and the shouts of “look over here”, you can make out him mouthing “i’ve got you.”

right as you walk up to the centre of it all and stop for photos, matty turns towards you and leans in. you freeze, trying hard to hold the camera-ready smile on your phone but his face is so close to yours, his hand so big around yours.

“by the way,” he says, his lips grazing your ear, “you look stunning tonight.”

the cameras erupt into more clicks, the shouts and cheers go wild. you know what moment they’ve just captured—matty, almost kissing the shell of your ear and you going the same shade of red as the carpet. your stomach swirls with butterflies even though the nerves are ever present. a pleasant shiver runs down your spine.

matty’s already facing the cameras once again, staring them down and giving them a gorgeous smile that has your heart skipping a beat.

before you have the chance to overthink it, you stand on your toes and press a kiss to his cheek, leaving a perfect red lipstick mark behind. his jaw goes slack, his grip around your hand loosens. not even a second later, you feel the same hand around your waist, pulling you into him, surrounding you with his scent.

“oh we’re giving a show tonight huh?” he smirks.

you smirk back, feeling the adrenaline rush through you. “thought that’s what you wanted,” you reply, your voice a low whisper that only he can hear over the chaos of the red carpet.

matty's eyes sparkle with mischief as he leans in, his lips dangerously close to yours. “well then, let's make it a performance they'll never forget,” he says, his thumb lightly brushing against your waist.

before they have a chance to ask more questions, you move on—arm around matty’s waist, practically leaning into him as your head swims with the almost kiss. sure, he did it for the cameras but the dizziness you feel is real. the way your blood rushes is very fucking real

“ready, darling?” he asks just before you’re going to step in.

you bite your lip, actually excited this time. “ready as i’ll ever be.”

but the excitement drains away the moment you leave the cameras and step through the massive doors to the auditorium. this is the true test—the outside cameras would only catch a glimpse of your evening, the first look at your outfit and hair and a look into your excitement for the evening. but the inside cameras capture everything!

you remember the utter scandal from a few years ago when the cameras caught a musician rolling his eyes after his rival won a big award. you remember the memes on twitter for days after, the snide remarks from other industry peers, the hateful comments. you remember emma mentioning how his publicist had been fired two days after.

you remember the instagram live meltdown.

and now as you see jack in front of you, arms linked with his date, you wonder if it would be you next, if history would repeat itself.

“alright?” matty’s voice cuts through your spiral and you stop instantly, causing him to walk into you just a little. matty’s arms tighten around your waist, steadying both of you and he frowns.

“yeah,” you give him a tight smile. “jitters.”

“‘s that it?” matty looks skeptical, cocking an eyebrow at you, which somehow makes his whole face turn sharper. it’s the kind of sharpness that’s lethal… if you weren’t careful.

in an attempt to steer the conversation away from yourself, you shake your head. “how come you’re not nervous?”

“who says i’m not?”

a laugh spills out of you, sharp and unbelieving. you’ve never seen someone more confident, more self-assured in your life before. hell, you’ve seen their concert videos now and matty is fucking electric in all of them. he looks like he owns the place, owns the attention of everyone around him. he looks impenetrable—an utter fucking rockstar.

“well, you– you…”

“i…? what?” his eyes turn playful, his lips curve upward. “i look so dashing and sexy and in control all the time?”

“sure,” you drawl, fighting the smile that’s about to make its way onto your face. “that’s what i was goin—”

“hi, babe!”

your blood turns cold and a sour taste coats your tongue at the sound of his voice.

jack looks exactly like he did the last time—the same dark wavy hair, the same piercing blue eyes that captivated you all those years ago, the same full lips that… you cut that train of thought before it could lead to places you’d rather not. instead, you stare right at him and give him a tight-lipped smile.

“hi jack.” the babe doesn’t go unnoticed; neither by you, nor by matty, and he straightens, standing up to his full height. jack ignores him entirely.

“was wondering if you were coming.” you resist the urge to roll your eyes at the loaded sentence. you know exactly what he’s referring to—the fucking pathetic pap walk, the absolutely embarrassing amount of pda. it’s curious that he’s here alone now, smiling wide at you with unnervingly straight, white teeth. his date is nowhere to be seen.

“yeah, me too, actually,” you smile turns saccharine, “considering you don’t have any nominations this year.”

matty chokes back a laugh and jack’s face reddens a little. still, he manages to hold up pretty well.

“oh, feisty! aren’t you, babe? isn’t she?” the last part is addressed to matty who stiffens, pulling you closer. a part of you wants to give into the butterflies swarming in your stomach. a part of you wants to lean into him and feel protected.

you expect matty to come up with a witty response, something that would put jack in his place, but matty turns to you instead, looking down at you with… adoration, almost. it’s not like it’s real, you tell yourself, it’s only for your ex. only for show.

“is that the guy you were telling me about, darling? the boring one you dated before?”

now it’s your turn to choke back a laugh. you try not to dwell too much on the darling, or his low, almost seductive voice. you certainly don't dwell on how it makes your insides flutter and feel warm. instead, you focus back on jack and relish in the way his jaw tightens.

“i see,” he mutters, but matty clearly isn’t done yet.

“she can speak for herself, won’t you say john—”

“jack.” his voice is terse now, and as much as you’re enjoying this little interaction, you’d rather it get not picked up by cameras and even more tabloids. the headlines that would be splashed on them tomorrow are already predictable enough. so you tug on matty’s arm and smile up at him sweetly.

“shall we go find our seats, love?”

the iciness in his eyes fades at the one word, and you try not to let that do funny things to you. (even though it’s practically too late now, even though you can almost feel your heart doing somersaults in your ribcage). matty presses his hand to the small of your back, the skin of his palm so deliciously warm that it seeps through the fabric and you have to swallow back a groan.

god! he’s fucking attractive…

and fuck! you might just be in trouble.

jack stares daggers at you when you let matty steer you away, the stare so intense that it almost burns into the back of your head but the electricity from matty’s proximity is something else entirely…

“love?” he teases, the moment you’re out of earshot and you blush deeply.

“i said it for him, not for you!” but even you know the retort lacks conviction.

“whatever you say…” a shit-eating grin appears on his face, melting away all the sharpness from before. and suddenly matty’s just… a handsome boy. curly-haired and smiley and soft. his eyes crinkle in the way that makes you think how used to he is to smiling and laughing—as often as he wants, as freely too.

he’s beautiful like this, you think, different from the rest of them too. you don’t constantly feel on guard around him for one.

his finger lightly taps you on the forehead, catching you off guard. “what’s going on in there?”

what is going on is you waxing poetic about how hot he is but his ego does not need that particular ego boost. but try as you might, you can’t think of a sarcastic remark, nothing teasing or mocking. all you manage is a genuine smile.

“just that… it’s not so scary anymore.”

“yeah?”

you nod, giving his hand a squeeze. “who knew bringing you as my fake date would be a good idea, huh?”

“fake date…” matty smirks, and lets his eyes roam over your face. it’s the type of stare that’s hard to look away from, the type of stare that holds you captive. matty lets out a shaky little breath and takes one small step closer. just one. “i don't know, seems pretty real to me.”

lemme know what you think <33

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#valentine75 #valentine's week #matty healy x reader

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corpseidol · 5 months

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Hola, I'm back for more food. Can I request a poly sbg (again.) with a fem reader who is like Wonyoung from Ive (and she's an undercover singer and they all find out because they searched up her group name because they heard people *cough cough *Barron* talking about her (yummy)

BEHIND AN IMAGE

author’s note : i dont think wony knows how to play guitar expertly but let’s ignore that ok? (IM SO SCARED THAT THIS IS COMPLETE ASS)

concept : sbg with fem!reader similar to wonyoung

genre : fluff, little angst, hcs + drabble

content : fem!reader, mild use of curse words, reader is a kpop idol!!

small hints

�� › ⠀aiden most likely found notepads and random papers with song lyrics when he visited you

⠀ › ⠀ben has heard your singing voice, but you never revealed that you were a famous singer. you have sung for him a few times.

⠀ › ⠀ben blushes when you compliment his plays on the guitar

⠀ › ⠀the whole group has heard you humming and singing a few lyrics when they play songs but the only people who’ve heard you sing a whole song was most likely ashlyn and ben

⠀ › ⠀when taylor hears your singing, she suggested you should become a singer (you couldn’t help but giggle at that)

⠀ › ⠀tyler falls asleep listening to your singing but he’d never openly admit that

⠀ › ⠀you have karaoke with taylor

⠀ › ⠀logan did karaoke with you and taylor (him and soft music would be adorbs)

⠀ › ⠀ben would eventually find out about the notepads that aiden found and would find them fascinating when he reads them

barron

⠀ › ⠀has put you in many situations where you could get exposed

⠀ › ⠀you’ve had many fights exchanging that you would both leave each other alone just for barron to do something and bother you again

⠀ › ⠀claims that he won’t hold anything against you at the end of the fight but literally has tons of stuff kept to himself when he wants to do something you clearly will not enjoy

⠀ › ⠀barron genuinely believes you don’t trust the group and holds it against you very much

⠀ › ⠀doesn’t exactly “bully” you for it. he holds pride that he has a classmate who’s an idol, however, has disrespected your boundaries multiple times.

finding out

⠀ › ⠀barron’s loud ass and terrible lying. that’s basically it.

⠀ › ⠀when the group saw your situation with barron, tyler was going to step up until they started overhearing about some career (he figured he would talk more about it later. first he had to get rid of the trash!)

⠀ › ⠀ashlyn : honestly started connecting all the dots (at first she told herself “i won’t be surprised if she turns out to be a singer” but she’s slightly surprised honestly

⠀ › ⠀taylor : had to process it for a few minutes before going like “can you do a high note?”

⠀ › ⠀aiden : “that’s what the notepads were for.” honestly shocked but not shocked at the same time. prob would start to encourage you to do a high note along with taylor. (would also look at some concept pics of you and just show ben.)

⠀ › ⠀tyler : questioning his life. has no idea what emotion he’s feeling. no idea how to express it. just standing there with a funny look on his face.

⠀ › ⠀logan : surprised but totally hyped about it, finds it cool.

⠀ › ⠀ben : surprised but not in a “woah!! i would’ve never thought about that!!” or “what.. what the fuck..” type of way. more in a “wow.” then a pause “awesome.”

extras

⠀ › ⠀ben is slightly envious of you. he thinks of his childhood when he hears you sing.

⠀ › ⠀i’m not sure if lily was alive/able to remember when ben was still able to sing since she seems wayyy younger. if that’s the case then she would still see ben in you. she likes to think that you’re ben’s lost voice.

⠀ › ⠀after finding out, ashlyn would love to watch you dance practice

⠀ › ⠀the group teases you about anything related to aegyo

ashlyn

“i didn’t think you could do that first try.” ashlyn stared, watching you stretch your body similarly to the way she does it herself. “there’s a lot more than this i could do.” you softly replied, getting up from your position.

the twins

taylor and tyler were on your sides, their head on your shoulders as you sung a soft tune. tyler was trying hard not to fall asleep but closed his eyes for a few minutes, relaxing against you. taylor smiled at this, intertwining your hands with hers “your voice is still beautiful as ever.” she complimented. you rubbed your thumb gently against hers as acknowledgment, continuing to sing.

logan + ben

you hummed a gorgeous tune, walking around with ben’s hand wrapped in yours. logan was tending to his plants while you listened to ben’s music with him. to not leave out logan, you began to sing along to the lyrics.

ben (ft. taylor)

as ben watched you perfectly sing your part in the karaoke with taylor, he stared at you with admiration, and, at the same time, gloom. a thought popped in his head that if he never lost his voice, he could be able to sing along with you. he pushed away those thoughts, clenching his pants as he tried to keep a smile on his face.

aiden

“i think you looked rad here.” aiden said, holding up his phone in front of you. you giggled softly “i loved that concept.” you admired the picture. aiden continued to scroll through pictures of you. at the same time, he couldn’t help but wonder about how you never told the group. so did the others.

#school bus graveyard #sbg webtoon #ashlyn banner #taylor hernandez #tyler hernandez #logan fields #ben clark #aiden clark #ashlyn x reader #aiden x reader #ben x reader #taylor x reader #tyler x reader #logan x reader #sbg

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undead-supernova · 7 months

Text

It's a Delicate Need / Masterlist

Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5

18+ minors DNI

plot: you've never met eddie munson before...and even if your reputation's never been worse, desire is the sound of the whiskey and you're prepared for the risk. but are you willing to let it go to waste?

Pairings: modernrockstar!Eddie x fem!popstar!Reader (curvy!reader, bisexual!reader)

Warnings: drinking, mention of weed, there's genuine smut in here so sorry for the length, mention of body shaming

wc: 6.9k

This chapter is inspired by the sound and lyrics of “Delicate” and her unreleased Lover track “Need” that I haven’t stopped thinking about since it leaked. This is one of my favorite things I've ever written and I can't believe I get to share it! Okay, have fun! (special thanks to @littlexdeaths for helping chill out my frantic screaming about writing smut)

Late April, 2024

You met him in those weird ways celebrities do. Usually, it’s an award show or some house party thrown by mutual famous friends. For you, it was the Grammy after party.

Corroded Coffin won Best Rock Album for “Fire Shroud” and Best Metal Performance for the title track. (Ozzy Osborne presented their award and you couldn’t believe how jealous you were.)

You’d won Song of the Year for “Cradle Me”. The night was electric, one that would go down in history for you and your ever-growing career.

Because you’d done it. You won a Grammy.

And that was the only reason you decided to even go to the after party, really. You rode the high of your adrenaline, your tears. The squealing and stomping of victory as you basked in a kind of pride you’d never felt before. A kind of pride that you didn’t even know existed.

The room boomed with music, everyone seemingly on the same wave as you. You’d been practically shredding up the dance floor all on your own, taking time to close your eyes and feel a release for what seemed like the first time since you’d started your career. You were on top of your game, on top of the world. Nothing could derail you now.

As a remix of Miley Cyrus’ “Flowers” came to a close, you remembered where you were. Opened your eyes to look around you as another song sounded, the bass pulsating in your ears.

And despite the noise, everyone noticed when Corroded Coffin walked in.

Even you.

Here they were, all five members decked out in lavish outfits, all five shimmying their way through the parting crowd with drinks held high in the air. If it was anyone else, they’d look obnoxious and lame. But each one of the members of Corroded Coffin acted like real people. They were in sequins, dark makeup, designer suits and dresses…and they were normal. Just laughing their way through the crowd and dancing like idiots.

And that’s when you saw him.

About an hour after their arrival, Eddie Munson snuck away from the rest of the group. He was at the bar, nursing some whiskey, a smile on his face as he chatted with the bartender. Leaning sideways against the counter with his legs crossed, just lounging as he socialized.

And maybe it kind of seemed a little stalkerish that you were watching him across the room, sipping on your third Shirley Temple—with, yes, copious amounts of vodka—but you were merely observing.

You weren’t his biggest fan or anything, but you were still fascinated by him. By his effortless charm, the sheer effect he seemed to have on everyone. Some had called him the New It Guy, others had called him a Soon To Be Has Been. But, for the most part, he was considered the man of everyone’s dreams.

Not only that, but he was genuinely talented. Corroded Coffin was killing it, having reached newer heights. Those Grammys they won? Yeah, they’d already received two the year prior. In the last two years, they’d collaborated with Post Malone, Joan Jett, Bring Me The Horizon, Nova Twins, Amy Lee, Poppy… The list was starting to get rather full from how desirable it was to work with them, especially smaller artists they’d been bringing into the limelight.

Plus, they were bringing metal to new heights. Tearing down the walls of what it meant to listen to metal and defying how it was “supposed” to sound. And you could go on and on about their lyricism, the way that they wrote about more than just testosterone-driven rage. They talked about mental health, about heartache. Addiction. Loneliness and the way isolation stung. Even the intense weight of fear that comes with falling in love.

They were raw. They were real.

And you kinda wanted to talk to Eddie Munson.

He was alone, for God’s sake. Just a sitting duck by himself, clad in that outfit. The sequins on his blazer casted light over his cheek, reflecting off of the LED lights. His blazer was a deep eggplant, all velvet and cool and fitting perfectly tight against his toned muscles. There were patterns of small black roses strategically placed throughout. Not enough to be overwhelming, but enough to give the drama.

Oh, yeah. One more thing.

No. Shirt.

Just his lean stomach with an attention-grabbing happy trail that led to his incredibly tight leather pants. The color even matched his blazer. Combat boots. Rings adorning his fingers and some black nail polish. Layers of diamond bracelets and chains resting against the dark ink of his tattoos. A guitar pick at the center of a black velvet choker around his neck.

Yeah, you really wanted to talk to Eddie Munson.

For a second, you stared down at yourself. You had a momentary lapse in confidence, wondering if what you were wearing was acceptable for a metal lead. Because you were clad in a silk knee-length dress, blush pink. One that hugged your curves and twirled around you wherever you moved. It was Old Hollywood. It was graceful. It was you.

Fuck it.

You approached, handing the bartender your empty glass and kindly asking for a refill. When you glanced over at Eddie in your peripheral, you knew he was being respectful, looking down at his drink rather than you.

It was up to you to deliver the opening line.

“You know,” you started, catching his attention immediately. “you’d kinda look like Lord Farquad if you got a bob.”

Eddie’s eyebrows lifted, trying to stifle a chuckle. “Yeah? You think so?” You nodded and watched as he tried to tuck in the bottom half of his hair to create the illusion of a bob. “‘Run, run, run as fast as you can. You can’t catch me, I’m the Gingerbread Man!’”

You were right. He kinda looked like Lord Farquad’s taller, hotter, more glamorous brother.

“That is perfect,” you said, slow clapping. “Brilliant.”

He laughed, moving his whisky as a subtle invite to stand next to him. “I’m glad you think so. I’m Eddie, by the way.”

You smiled, telling him your name, watching as he nodded. He was wearing some eye shadow, all deep purple and bruise-y. He seemed to have had a coat of lipgloss on that was now lining the rim of his glass, with only a slight residue remaining. It was still effortlessly beautiful. He was effortlessly beautiful.

“Yeah, I actually know who you are.”

Your eyes widened. He knew you?

“I didn’t think it was your genre,” you said honestly.

Eddie shook his head. “Nah. Come on, give yourself a little credit. ‘Tetris’ had a bit of a rock vibe to it.”

“Yeah, true,” you agreed, rolling your eyes. That was a single from your last album, one that hadn’t even gotten much traction from audiences. “But it’s nothing like A Rush of Hellfire.”

Eddie’s eyebrows shot up again. “You heard our first album?”

Confusion flooded your features. “Well, yeah. Hasn’t everyone?”

“No one talks about it anymore,” he responded, shrugging as he scratched the top of his head. “You a fan?”

“Not, like, a diehard fan or anything, you know? It’s fun to work out to. Or scream in the car. You did that remix with Post Malone. ‘Something Real’, right?” He smiled, nodding. “Yeah, I can’t get enough of it. The original is heavenly, but you guys put a spin on it that made it transcend the meaning and give it an extra boost of emotion that didn’t even seem possible. And your added verse? I mean, it was just so raw and…”

You stopped yourself, starting to feel embarrassed from practically fangirling about this guy’s music to his face. He may have been actively listening, or was pretending to, but you had to stop before it got to be too much.

“Anyways,” you finished. “I really like it.”

His smile grew and it was like something flutter-y-ish was rushing to your heart. What was that about?

“I’m flattered,” he said. “Unexpected, but flattered nonetheless.”

“Why unexpected?”

“Well, I mean. Well, your music—I just assumed—”

You laughed at that. “I like way more than just pop. That’s just the music I make, you know?” He gave you another silent nod, making you feel a little self-conscious. “So, I’m guessing you’re not really into my stuff?”

“No, I really like it. I just don’t want you to think I’m a diehard fan or anything. Actually, it’s kinda funny. I saw your cover of ‘Lolita’ by…” he trailed, waving his fingers around in thought until he pointed at you with a smirk. “Lana Del Rey, that’s it. Saw it a few weeks ago. Very cool. I liked the way you changed the sound. It seemed a little sadder than the OG, even with the synth.”

You smiled. You’d done that cover in the BBC Live Lounge to make fun of the way the media portrayed you. A player on both sides, leading everyone on and leaving them high and dry. Being a temptress of some sort, always on your best misbehavior. It was a common story, something that was far from realistic. But the media circus wasn’t about reality. It was about the fantasy.

And a lot of people misinterpreted the song choice as a confirmation of your reputation. It was mortifying. And annoying. Mostly fucking annoying.

And as the bartender handed you your drink, you prayed to whatever God was out there that Eddie didn’t think the same about you.

“I did it as a joke,” you defended sheepishly. “You’ve probably heard about me, but I’m not actually like that.”

And you knew that there was no reason for you to justify yourself to him, especially someone rumored to be a player himself. Eddie was known to the public as someone who collected groupies like a goddamn claw machine, but it was seen as something desirable. He was hailed as some kind of Metal Prince of Darkness. (Though, you’d never come into contact with anyone who’d actually been involved with him…)

So why were you nervous all of a sudden?

You studied his reaction, the way he barely had one. He just kept smiling like that, this kind of half-smile as if you were the most interesting person he’d ever met. You were sure he smiled at everyone like that.

And if it was a trick, well fuck, it was working.

“I definitely got the joke,” he said, chuckling as your eyes widened. “What, did no one else?”

You shrugged. “Not a lot of them, no.”

“Well, I guess the world is as dense as I thought.”

You couldn’t stifle your giggle as you lifted your drink to your lips, nearly spilling it on yourself.

And maybe Eddie thought he was being smooth, but he took a small step forward, closer than he’d been before. “Just letting you know,” he said. “as someone who is also not like that, I thought it was amazing.”

You could smell the tobacco wafting off of his jacket, mixed with something like amber or bergamot. His pinky finger was dangerously close to yours, seemingly inching forward. The closer he got, the easier it was to decode the exact shade of his eyes. Brown had been wrong. No, they were hickory. They were umber. And these hickory, umber eyes were looking at you.

It wasn’t fair in the slightest.

Something in you wanted to call him out because there was something definitely happening between you. Maybe it was a game he was playing, taking shots at your weak spots to lower your defenses. Or maybe it was genuine chemistry, luring you in with a dangerous kind of desire that you’d never felt before.

It was something you couldn’t even explain to yourself.

Out of seemingly nowhere, Eddie asked, “Beatles or Stones?”

You snorted. “Easy. Beatles. You clearly haven’t listened to my album.”

“Oh, I’ve heard Acacia My Dear. How could I not?” Your eyes widened. “But I thought you were sane. Guess I was wrong.” He sighed, waving you away. “This has been fun but get out of my sight.”

“Okay, wow. How does it feel to be a loser?” you asked, crossing your arms.

“How does it feel to be wrong?”

“The Stones do not have half of the amount of hits that The Beatles had. Name any Beatles album, which I bet you can’t, and I can tell you the plethora of well-known songs from each one. You can’t fight me on the factual evidence—”

“Do you wanna dance?” he asked suddenly, cutting you off.

You froze, confusion and intrigue colliding inside you.

“Didn’t you just tell me to go away?”

“As a joke.”

“Are you going to continue to insult my preferences?”

He leaned in just a bit further. “Is that something you’d want?”

“Maybe a little,” you admitted, trying to catch your breath as he took it. “As a treat.”

“I’d be honored.”

Eddie took you to the floor like a gentleman in a ballroom, one arm pressed against his back with the other holding your hand up. As if he was wearing a luxurious tux and you were in a ballgown. As if this was something serious, something more than it should’ve been.

And, god, whatever he was doing was fucking with your head.

Because the two of you started dancing to one of the popular hits of the year, a song you hadn’t cared to listen to. But it didn’t seem to matter to either of you, going back and forth with each other as you moved through the dance floor. Eddie shimmied his shoulders and rolled his hips. You gladly followed his lead.

As the song hit its bridge, he leaned in. “By the way, I don’t know this song.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Yeah, I don’t either. I’ve been religiously listening to Maisie Peters for the last year.”

He nodded before looking at you with a bit of a sheepish expression. “I don’t know who that is either, I’m afraid.”

“That’s more offensive than your Beatles comments,” you teased.

He rolled his eyes before taking your hands and spinning you around. Laughter fell from your lips easily, finding the sensation quite dizzying.

God, how was his energy so infectious?

He tried to bring you back up, to let go. But you were done for, wobbling in his arms from the dizzy spell coming over you. One of your held hands was placed against his chest, the drumming of his heart nearly matching the beat of the song.

“Woah there,” he teased.

You sighed, your grasp on his hand tightening. “Don’t blame me,” you said. “That was all you.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, you’re right.” When you were stable enough to stand properly and the room stopped spinning, he asked, “Favorite Beatles song?”

You scoffed. “Why should I tell you if you’re just going to make fun of it?”

“You wound me.”

“I have evidence. Exhibit A, five minutes ago you told me my opinion was wrong. Twice.”

“I’ll behave myself.” You raised an eyebrow. “Scout’s honor.”

You decided to answer truthfully. “It changes every day, I think.”

“So, what’s todays?” he pressed. When you gave him a quizzical look, he shook his head. “Don’t leave me hanging over here.”

Your smile returned. “Today, it’s ‘Sun King’.”

“Ah, a highly underrated track from Abbey Road. Mine’s either ‘I Want You (She’s So Heavy)’ or ‘Why Don’t We Do It In The Road?’ from the White Album.”

You couldn’t believe your ears. “You know their discography and yet you disrespect them.”

He wagged a finger at you. “You’re mistaken, young maiden. I never said The Beatles were bad. I said they weren’t as good as The Rolling Stones.”

“I think I hate you,” you said without thinking. Without even knowing how he was going to take that.

But then Eddie’s small smile grew into a grin. “Oh, yeah?”

You couldn’t help but smile back. “Mhm.”

“Does that mean we’ll never speak again?”

“No,” you admitted, showing him your cards.

Eddie smirked. “Good.”

Apparently, he was showing his, too.

Another drink and a round of bickering later, you and Eddie were promptly interrupted by a rumbling of voices calling out to you.

Well, not you.

“Ed!”

The two of you turned and watched as the rest of Corroded Coffin rushed over. Well, Ronnie was trailing behind, still in her heels. And you commended her for not running like the rest.

Eddie let out a chuckle and you watched a grin stretch across his face, lighting him up more than anything else seemingly did tonight. It was a look of love, of appreciation. Friendship.

And when he looked at you, you swore that it intensified.

God, he was something else.

“This is Grant, Gareth, Ronnie, and Jeff,” he introduced, gesturing to the group.

As if you didn’t already know.

“Nice to meet you all,” you said, giving each one a handshake and a smile.

“Jesus, you’re prettier in person,” Ronnie said, giving you a look over. “Love the dress.”

You could help but smile, especially with how beautiful she was. Ronnie Ecker. A legendary fucking female drummer standing in front of you. Her satin dress hugged her hips, a slit running up her thigh as the tips of her fingers rested against the opening. And, sure, Eddie was standing next to you, and you were extremely interested in him. But you’d be lying if you didn’t feel heat rising to your cheeks at the sight of one of the hottest women alive.

“Right back at you,” you replied, trying to stop sounding so nervous. “You’re incredible at the drums. It’s such an honor—"

“We’re heading out, actually,” Gareth said loudly, catching your attention.

“To do what? Go to bed?” Eddie asked, snorting. “Did you grind the indica by mistake?”

Grant shrugged. “We came to see if you wanted to go back and do a one-shot…” he trailed, eyes flickering over to you. “But then we saw you over here and, well…”

Jeff pointed at you. “We decided we wanted to meet you,” he said plainly.

“Yeah, exactly,” Gareth confirmed.

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes. “Oh, please. I’m really not that interesting.”

“Don’t sell yourself short,” Eddie said, catching your gaze. “Not to us or anyone else.”

There was something about the way he said it that made you wonder exactly what he was thinking about you. Because there was that hint of a smirk again, one that you couldn’t help but interpret as: You should see yourself the way I do in this moment.

And even though the others fell headfirst into their own tangent, you decided to lean over to Jeff.

“A one-shot, you say?” you asked. “Like for D and D?”

A grin spread across his face. “Precisely.”

“You guys play a lot?”

Jeff nodded. “Yeah, Eddie’s, like, the best DM I’ve ever seen.”

“Better than Brennan Lee Mulligan?” you questioned.

“Close enough,” he admitted.

Eddie tapped Jeff on the shoulder. “Did someone just mention Brennan?”

“She did,” Jeff said as he patted your shoulder. “Wanna get super jealous?”

You raised an eyebrow as Eddie gave you a shit-eating grin. “I’m guest starring in his upcoming campaign.”

“Oh, fuck off!” you exclaimed. Stomping your foot, you shook your head. Your lips twisted into a smile, all jealous and playful. Because you were extremely envious, having watched D&D for years but never playing it yourself. And here Eddie was, getting the opportunity to work with one of the best DMs there were. What a cool fucking asshole.

“Well, if you ever wanted to plaaaaaay,” Gareth exaggerated, clasping his hands together and grinning. “We could always head back and get you a character sheet.”

Eddie flicked his forehead, giving him a hard stare that you couldn’t understand. “Gareth, we are not doing a one-shot tonight.” When both men’s eyes flickered over to you for a moment, you began to pick up the meaning. “So you better scram.”

And then it was its own conversation, one that started with goodbyes but led into another whirlwind of comments. You tried to follow along, tried to understand what they were even talking about in their shared campaign. There was something about a powerful wizard, another realm underneath the one you called your own. A world that seemed upside down, a world that you were glad you didn’t live in.

And as soon as it began to descend into chaos, Eddie sighed and held up his hand. “Alright, I’m cutting us off. Go to bed, you lovely dumbasses.”

“I like you,” Jeff said as the others hugged and bumped fists. Your eyes widened. “I like you a lot.”

Without a chance to ask him what he meant by that, Jeff was filing behind Grant and Gareth, all three sneaking glances back at you as they walked away.

Ronnie gave you another look over before leaning in. “Some advice? Don’t break his heart,” she said, patting your shoulder before she hustled to catch up with the others.

Shock ran through you at the sheer idea of feelings being involved between you and Eddie Munson of all people. As if he would ever actually want something like that. The idea was so absurd that you almost had to scoff.

“Did you want to keep talking?”

You turned to Eddie whose stare was becoming almost too magnetic, having to look away every few seconds. If you didn’t, the eye contact was going to send you into cardiac arrest.

“Talking?” you asked, lifting an eyebrow.

He played innocent, shrugging. “Well, we could always talk. We could do other things, too. If you’d like.”

“You want me to go home with you?”

“To my hotel room, maybe?” Eddie paused, clearly trying to interpret your expression and failing. “Uh, unless I’m reading this all wrong.”

“You’re not,” you said.

Without breaking eye contact, his fingers found your palm before lifting it and pressing his lips against the back of your hand. You could only hope the music would mask your sharp breath.

“I have fewer scarlet letters than people think.”

Another kiss. Another lodge in your throat.

“So, don’t think I’m doing this because I’m a whore.”

You could only nod. “Likewise.”

“I just…” he paused, a hint of something covering his features. “I think you’re really cool.”

“Likewise,” you concluded, disconnecting your hands before his touch could electrocute you further. “See you at the hotel.”

“How many scarlet letters do you have?” you asked Eddie.

How the hell you’d managed to be alone in the elevator was beyond you. In fact, it was a miracle on its own that the two of you were able to leave separately, arrive at the hotel without paparazzi standing out front, and casually make it to the elevator without anyone taking notice. It was a rather close call.

Or maybe it was a sign.

You nearly rolled your eyes at the thought before Eddie’s laugh brought your attention back.

“Ah, man,” he said. “Three, the first two being in high school. What about you?”

“Four,” you said plainly. “All post high school. I wasn’t very popular back then.”

“Neither was I.”

You looked over at him, curious about what else was there.

“Really?”

Eddie snorted. “Are you kidding me? Of course not. Look at me.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

He shook his head. “Uh-uh. Those first two? They used me to get back at their boyfriends. Thought the local freak would, I don’t know, make them jealous?”

You raised an eyebrow at him. “I was also the freak.”

“Really?” You nodded. “Could’ve fooled me.”

And there that stare was again, burning a hole in your chest that you weren’t sure how to make go away. But did you really even want it to?

No words were exchanged as you made your way down the hallway. You looked back, always alert at the potential of a camera or wandering eyes. And when you made your way inside his hotel room, thick with the scent of him, you felt the prickles on your neck that always came when you feared danger.

For some reason, you couldn’t help but look at the door, making sure it was locked. Making sure that the shadows underneath the door were passing by quickly. Muffled voices came and went, but your guard never wavered.

“You don’t have to worry about anyone seeing us,” Eddie said. You turned slowly, watching him unlace his boots. “This floor is all booked for the band. No need to risk anything. That’s probably just my guy, James. He’s a hardass, but he loves a good party.”

A small chuckle left your lips. “It’s not that I’m scared to be seen with you,” you explained. “It’s just a nasty habit.”

“I don’t blame you. Las Vegas can drive people crazy.”

You took the moment to undo your heels, finally able to let your feet breathe after a long, long night of discomfort. There was a stinging pain the moment your bare feet hit the carpet.

But you couldn’t wait, taking tentative steps towards him. Like you were assessing him, assessing the risk. Watching as he watched you, standing like you’d made a silent request that he couldn’t say no to.

“I won’t bite,” he said, hands reaching out to yours. Taking your fingertips and pulling you towards him. Like you were still on that dance floor, like he was as lost in the moment as you were.

As you drew near, you caught a glimpse of his smudged eye shadow, the way it was starting to smear. His eyes, darker than before in the low light of the lamp, only on you.

Yeah, you weren’t thinking about consequences anymore.

“I have to be up early in the morning,” you whispered, nearly chasing his lips with yours.

He nodded. “You can leave whenever you want,” he said softly, thumb brushing your lower lip. “I do want you to know that I want to kiss you so bad it’s going to kill me.”

“Well, why didn’t you just say—”

Eddie kissed you fiercely, nearly knocking you over.

It was like he was chasing after you. Wherever you moved, he moved. Whenever you gasped, he gasped. Your hand met the back of his neck, so his moved to yours.

It was the kindling of a fire.

If you dared to utter it, you would call it passion.

You slowly made your way to his neck, scratching against the choker as you went. Eddie inhaled sharply, trembling as you made your way down his chest. Desperate to feel all of it. Desperate to understand where he started and where he ended. Wondering if you’d truly be granted full access.

But it was his fingers that flipped a switch. Eddie carefully moved the tips along your jaw—gently, like he was trying to learn exactly what you felt like. And before you could register it, Eddie pulled your head to the side and latched his lips to your throat.

There was a release of a moan, the high pitch shocking you.

Because here you were, feeling a lightning strike against your neck, rumbling like chills down your back. Before you knew it, you were limp in his arms.

You were giving in.

Slowly, Eddie helped you out of your dress, trying to take his time. But you were a little more fast-paced, nearly ripping off your own underwear before reaching towards him. Mainly because he only had a jacket on, but you were also extremely close to losing your mind if you didn’t have him inside you in the next ten minutes.

“Now, why’re you going so fast?” Eddie asked, voice hushed in the silent room. His lips met yours again, leaning back just enough to look into your eyes. “Shouldn’t you give yourself some time to enjoy it?”

Dumbfounded. That’s the only way you could describe yourself. Eddie was standing in front of you, offering you the chance to experience not just sex, but pleasure.

“Can I?” you asked him, desperate to be told again.

He kissed your forehead.

“Yes.”

Eddie gently lowered you to the bed, helping you scoot up to rest your head on the pillow. He paused, peering down at you as he unhooked his choker. It was the tucking of his lip into his mouth that captivated you, beckoned you to reach up to his lips.

You couldn’t remember wanting anyone else’s mouth this much.

And amongst the kissing and the harsh breaths, Eddie had his pants off, quickly kicking them aside to focus on you. You immediately clocked how he had not worn any underwear.

Fuck.

You had no time to look down at his length, instead feeling it as he rocked his hips against your mound. With lips against skin and a fever building, you hardly formed a thought as you tried to push his hand towards your pussy.

“Eddie,” you whined. “Please.”

“Whatever you want,” he murmured. “Promise.”

His fingers danced around your entrance, the calloused tips stroking your clit as he went along. Your hips bucked, but it was nothing against his grip on you. Instinctively, you moved your face to the side, wanting to hide your face in the pillow.

“Shh, it’s alright,” he whispered, placing a small kiss to your nose. “Let yourself go.”

Before you had any time to respond, Eddie was inside you. His fingers pumped in and out, the squelching sound of your wetness filling the near silence.

Eddie wasn’t done annihilating your neck, leaving more and more marks as he went. There your sounds returned, nearly choking on your breath as you whimpered.

It went on like this for a while, Eddie taking his time to bring you to the brink of an orgasm. Once. Twice. Unable to edge you a third time when you came uncontrollably and suddenly. You’d come down only to find his fingers on your clit again, beckoning you.

“Can you do it for me again?” he asked.

Feverish nods, hushed confirmations.

Another orgasm. Another bout of emotions that were ripping through you.

When you finally came down from your third orgasm, you knew you needed more. It wasn’t a want. It was a need. Eddie hadn’t touched himself, hadn’t given in to his own pleasure. It was all you.

All you.

“Can you, um,” you tried to start, breath still heavy.

“What is it?” he asked.

With shaky fingers, you reached down between you, lightly stroking his cock. Eddie let out a hiss, arms struggling to hold him up. It was his turn to quiver.

“Ah,” he finally said, a nervous chuckle eliciting from him. “I, uh, would really like that.”

Without another word, he ran his tip over your clit, a groan leaving your lips before you came back to reality.

“Wait," you sighed, pausing. "What about you?” Gently, you pressed a hand against his chest. “Don’t you want me to, uh…”

You were too embarrassed to ask him point blank if he wanted his dick (cock? Big Ben? Woodpecker?) sucked. Because you knew that if you were to say it out loud, you would be a fumbling mess of Do you want me to suck your cockbenpecker? And then you’d have to leave and kill yourself out of sheer embarrassment.

But Eddie didn’t laugh at you. Instead, his lips found your shoulder. “No, I’m alright. Thank you for the offer, though.” He slowly trailed his tongue to the other side. “Rain check for that?”

You nodded. “Y-yeah, absolutely.”

He carefully slid in, eliciting strained moans from both of you. You watched his eyes widen; mouth agape as he looked at you. Took your silent nod as confirmation to rock into you. He didn’t go too quick, seemingly taking his time to feel you.

And as he built his momentum, you couldn’t help but find yourself becoming a a mumbling mess.

His cock was filling you, completing you. Aching as though you’d been missing each other your entire lives and you were finally colliding.

He lifted your leg over his shoulder, seemingly desperate to go deeper. You felt as he shivered, like he was unable to control himself while trying to maintain the control he already had. It drove you wild, moving with him to get him to keep going. Getting as close to him as you could to keep him vibrating above you.

It was addicting, keeping your eyes connected as you tried to give back what he was giving to you. There was a silent connection forming, one where you were desperate to make him feel the way you did. Craved the ability to make him bend at your will, a carnal desire to make him fall apart at your hands.

Eddie smiled, nearly laughing as you grabbed his ass and pushed him deeper into you. And even though you were close to cracking a smile, it was quickly taken away. He thrusted again, harder, intensifying the wave of ecstasy washing over you. You cried out, unable to hold it in anymore.

“That’s it,” he said. “You sound so pretty, you know that?”

A fourth orgasm ripped through you at his praise, cum coating his cock as he continued to rock into you. He slowed, only for a moment, just enough to help you down before he picked you right back up again. Cradled your face in one hand, his other lightly running up and down your calf. For the first time, you weren’t thrown into overstimulation.

For the first time, you experienced true pleasure from sex.

As you continued to writhe in his arms, trembling as he left you in wave after wave of euphoria, you felt something shift in your chest. You couldn’t see it then, but there was a part of you that would want him the moment he was gone. Because when he finally came, pulling out and spilling onto your stomach, you were disappointed that he hadn’t cum inside you.

It was in the way he took his time with you, treating you like a lady, praising you with each orgasm. Instead of whatever you imagined, something fast and filthy and rough, you were… Well, you were worshiped.

It was much more than whatever a one-night stand between strangers was supposed to look like. And you’d never had a one-night stand, but you were ninety-nine percent sure it was not this. Strangely, you were very, very okay with that.

When you two were officially finished, he pulled you into his chest, your head resting above his thrumming heart. And you stayed there. Without any thought of the future, without any thought of your hotel room or your manager or the flight you had to take tomorrow. No, you were somewhere else. Somewhere lovely. Somewhere safe.

“Tell me something true,” you whispered in the dark.

“What do you mean?”

“Something you probably haven’t talked about to the press or whatever. However personal you’d like to get.”

“I have two cats,” he said. “And I’m actually considering getting a third.”

“That’s really cool,” you responded. “But I’m curious.”

“Hm?”

“How do you have cats when you’re always away from home? I’ve always wanted to adopt one, but I’m scared we’ll have separation anxiety.”

“Easy. I bring them with me.”

“You do?”

“Yeah, I have special bags for them and everything. They fucking love traveling if you can believe it. Goddamn angels on airplanes.”

You couldn’t help your jealousy. It had always been a dream to have a cat. A companion, a friend to curl up next to at night. But your parents despised animals and then, well, you were suddenly never home. You wondered what it would feel like to be able to bring a piece of home with you wherever you went.

“What about you?’

You peered up at him. “Me?”

“Yeah, you,” he said with a smile. “Tell me something true.”

“It’s so stereotypical, but…” You took a deep breath, contemplating if it was okay to be so vulnerable so soon after meeting him. “I get really sad when people talk about my body.” You watched his eyebrows furrow. “I like myself, but it’s hard to be, like, not skinny and still be the artist I am as if my body determines whether I’m good enough at my job.

“Sometimes I wish I could just be a person who happens to have this body and that was that. I’m healthy…what more do people want out of me?”

Eddie’s arms tightened around your waist, fingers brushing against your tummy. “People are fucked up. Genuinely.”

“I agree. It’s like… Either I’m too big for someone to love me but my reputation is that I’m fucking everyone within a ten mile radius at any given time. Like a fucking fuck radar.” Eddie laughed. “Like which is it? ‘Cause I clearly can’t be both and I can’t be neither.”

“You know what I say to that?” he asked, lifting an eyebrow.

“Hm?”

He raised his fist. “Fuck ‘em.”

You gave him a fist bump, nodding. “Yeah, fuck ‘em.”

“Also, if I may add, you’re fucking beautiful.” You shook your head. “No, I’m serious. I saw you walk up to accept your award tonight, which you totally had in the bag by the way, and I couldn’t help but think, ‘Wow, she’s more stunning in person.’ And I was at one of the tables in the back.”

“You really thought that?”

“Please, I think Jeff was getting annoyed at how much I was staring. Said Radiohead wrote ‘Creep’ about me.”

A laugh fell from your lips but you still shook your head.

“I genuinely like you for you,” he whispered, lightly lifting your chin up. “It’s something true.”

“I think…I believe you.”

“Please do.”

But when you finally fell asleep, you were thrown into something ferocious. The sky turned black, with crows and ravens circling the trees. You ran along a path, trying desperately to find shelter. In the distance, you saw Eddie, walking with some other girl. One arm behind his back, his other hand holding hers. Just like he did with you.

And then it occurred to you: Now that you’d gotten a taste of Eddie Munson, you didn’t want to share.

It was supposed to be a random hookup. Just a fleeting glance at the unusual mixture of metal and pop, leather and lace. But when you woke up to the sound of your alarm, having to get on a plane as soon as possible to do promo in Chicago, you decided to wake him up.

“Hey,” you said. “Wake up, sleepy.”

He opened his eyes slightly, taking in your already dressed appearance. “Where are you going?”

Sitting on the edge of the bed, you shrugged. “Chicago. I have a podcast to go on to talk about the Grammys and bullshit about having anything written for the next album and do promo and all that.” You looked down at the white duvet, all wrinkly from the long night (with a hint of his smeared eye shadow.) “I just wanted to thank you for last night and tell you that I had fun.”

“Yeah?” You nodded. “I did, too.”

For a moment, you were quiet. Watching as he bit his lip, noticing how you were chewing on yours. Wondered what to say. What to think. How to end an interaction you really didn’t want to end.

“Favorite Beatles song this morning?” he asked.

You tried not to smile, but you couldn’t help it as you looked up at his cheeky expression.

“‘I’ve Just Seen A Face’.”

“Help!” he nearly shouted in a fake scared voice, clasping onto his face.

Rolling your eyes at his antics, you said, “If I didn’t know better, you know every album they’ve ever done.”

“Maybe I’ll tell you the answer next time I see you.”

You chuckled, telling yourself that this was just something people say. Next time this. Next time that. And there’s no follow up. Just a glance here and there at events. No one calls. No one cares.

You tried to get up, but Eddie gently grabbed your hand, rubbing his fingers along your knuckles. “Actually, in all seriousness…I wouldn’t mind seeing you again sometime.”

“Do you really mean that?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I do.”

Without a word, you disconnected your hand from his and started towards the door. Started towards what was ultimately going to be a long day with endless naps and replacing the water in your body with coffee.

And as you placed your hand on the cold doorknob, Eddie said his last words.

“I’m going to miss you.”

You glanced over at him, your armor starting to come loose.

But it tightened as soon as the weakness was identified. Because there was no way to make any promises, no way to guarantee anything more than what this moment in time had provided.

“I’ll see you soon, Eddie. I’ll make sure of it.”

After that, you couldn’t stop thinking about him. The way he was just so honest. Upfront. Wanting you close.

He told you he was going to miss you. He told you that he liked you for the person you were, not the person that everyone expected you to be. And he was the same, his reputation being nothing more than a façade for the lovely human being underneath.

The rest of that day, that week, you could only think of him.

Shouldn’t you give yourself some time to enjoy it? his voice echoed.

It’s alright.

Just let go.

Early October, 2024

His makeup smeared down his face as he held your eyes. You’d never seen him so soft, so gentle. Full of emotions reserved just for you. Desperate for the one thing he ever wanted.

You.

And in that moment, it all froze mid-air. The laughter and gasps of the crowd. The sound of the photographers shouting his name, shouting yours. The videos and the comments that felt like sticks and stones. Ronnie’s hurling words that felt like daggers.

It dissipates as you remember the start, as you remember why you were there in the first place. Why it mattered.

“Okay,” you murmured.

Eddie's eyes widened.

“I’ll stay.”

#Eddie Munson x reader #Eddie Munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson angst #modern!eddie munson #modern!eddie x reader #Eddie Munson x female reader #boyfriend!eddie munson #rockstar!eddie x reader #rockstar!eddie x you #rockstar!Eddie x popstar!reader

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juztscrollingthrough · 7 months

Text

Seven by Taylor Swift

I always interpreted this song as someone looking back at their childhood nostalgic memories and remembering that one troubled friend who left a deep mark in their psyche but for whatever circumstances they lost touch with one another. This edit kind of depicts the time during the “between years" where they thought of one another but never reached out. This one’s especially from Ian’s POV and all those flashback of memories that compelled him to finally reach out and arrange the meet up with Anthony after a nudge from Dianne. Ian wonders if Anthony still thinks of him, if he still reminisces about their past as fondly as Ian does.

Below are the lyrics with explanation/interpretation in Ian and Anthony's context:

[POV IAN] :

Please picture me In the trees I hit my peak at seven feet In the swing Over the creek I was too scared to jump in

Ian wants his friend to remember him by the fun escapades they shared together. He reminisces about their first 6th grade science project, all their sleepovers, the trips, their first experience with alcohol near the riverside in Sacramento. In their big group of friends how these two became closer due to the fact that he didn’t know how to drive and Anthony was the one who drove him home after school, how after graduation when everyone left for college, these two remained in the suburbs, unsure about their future.

But I, I was high in the sky With Pennsylvania under me Are there still beautiful things?

Ian once said "I'm not exactly the poster child for following your dreams, because I never had any”. He never had exact dreams about career or whatever the future had in store for him. Smosh became a place where Ian and Anthony expressed themselves, an outlet to make each other laugh and with smosh blowing up he finally found his dream: to keep making fun stuff with his best friend which for some reason random strangers over the internet connected with. They were riding the high that came with smosh’s success unaware of the fact that this newfound business relationship would tower over their years of close friendship.

Sweet tea in the summer Cross your heart, won't tell no other And though I can't recall your face I still got love for you Your braids like a pattern Love you to the moon and to Saturn Passed down like folk songs The love lasts so long

Their genuine love and adoration for one another, how they shared every secret with each other, how Ian lied to Anthony about his first kiss in hopes to impress his new friend in 7th grade and in later years opening up about the lie as he finally got his actual first kiss…. in his friend’s bedroom. Slowly these tender moments fizzled out as they grew up, as their channel grew, and so did their stress and workload. Though, they aren't the people they once were, but their mutual love and respect for each other remained deeply ingrained in their hearts.

And I've been meaning to tell you I think your house is haunted Your dad is always mad and that must be why And I think you should come live with Me and we can be pirates Then you won't have to cry Or hide in the closet And just like a folk song Our love will be passed on

Ian knew that Anthony came from a broken home, and how he lost an authoritative figure, his step dad, who abandoned Anthony’s mother and his step-brothers when he was merely a 12 year old, and due to his tumultuous situation at home, Anthony got this heavy responsibility on his shoulders of his family. Anthony feared that his mothers agoraphobia would somehow find a way towards him too and he would stay stuck in this haunted situation which he desperately wanted to break away from. When Anthony fell sick due to his autoimmune disease, Ian’s mom urged his son to visit his friend. The get well soon card he got signed by everyone in their class and gave to Anthony. After their graduation Ian’s parents invited Anthony for a trip to Hawaii and that was the first time when Anthony got to experience something away from his haunted house back in Sacramento. He got to experience what a complete family felt like vicariously through Ian.

Passed down like folk songs Our love lasts so long

No matter how many obstacles there were, the power of friendship conquered it all. They not only got their company back but also rekindled their friendship. They said everything had to happen the way it happened for them to eventually reunite. They might be complete opposites but there is this red string of fate that lingers between them. Their creative partnership is too strong and in the end they proved that “Friendship always wins”.

#smosh #ian hecox #anthony padilla #ianthony #besties #platonic soulmates??#I got too emo while making this lol #sorry for the bad quality T-T #☀️🔍#a friendship like THIS #taylor swift #seven

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dokyccis · 10 months

Text

busy II | h. renjun

it’s been a while !! // part one here.

“sometimes i wonder when are you gonna stop humiliating yourself because of renjun.” yunjin says in a serious, but ironic tone.

it’s been 2 weeks since renjun left you all alone in your apartment. the way your boyfriend left coldly still gives you goosebumps and you feel like crying with the thought of him not loving you anymore.

you’re insecure about all that, you don’t wanna believe your thoughts but you feel like you need to. you need to face reality and accept the truth.

“i don’t humiliate myself.” yunjin chuckles sarcastically when you finally answer. “do i?” you genuinely ask.

“do we really have to answer?” it’s karina’s turn to say something. “that’s obvious, honey. you just need to open your eyes and see what’s going on.” she’s realistic.

maybe they’re right, you think to yourself.

those were 2 weeks of pure silence between you and renjun, he didn’t message you or call you to ask how you’ve been or just to say hi.

you feel like the feeling that used to be like fire burning in yours and renjun’s heart is now dying little by little, and you don’t want that. does renjun want that? you wonder.

you still remember the sweet thoughts you shared with renjun in silent and calm nights at your place, the atmosphere matching the way you two looked at each other and talked to each other so lovingly.

you believed that renjun was the one & only for you and would always be, but destiny stabbed you with it’s tricks.

“y/n, come on! you need to move on, y’know?” yunjin encourages you.

“it’s not like we broke up, yunjin. he just left and…” you pause. “god, i sincerely don’t know what’s going on with renjun.” you sigh deeply and hide your face in your hands.

“he’s just an ass.” karina says, making yunjin laugh and being contaminated by the red haired girl.

you laugh along with your friends, trying to shrug the pain off. it’s like you lost a significant part of you, like your heart has a big hole that’s just filled up with renjun’s presence.

you’re afraid renjun just played with you all this time, but you also can’t believe that. his sweet words, delicate touch and innocent gaze leads you to think the otherwise.

you can’t imagine your life without renjun, your mind and heart refuses to even think of the possibility. you gave your whole self to renjun, dedicating each special part of you to him.

“he may be an asshole, but i still miss him.” you reveal.

“we know that, hun’.” yunjin says, ceasing her laugh. “it’s kind of normal to miss him, though. look what you’ve created within these past 3 years, you had a pretty admirable relationship with renjun, you two were like bee and honey.” she mocks, karina nods her head in agreement.

“it’s okay to miss him, babe, we’re not judging you for that. remember that we’re your best friends, we’re here to help you recover and stay safe over all of this.” karina smiles genuinely, and you can’t be happier to have friends like yours.

“thank you so much, you two.” you smile back, pulling your two best friends into a warm, comforting and loving hug.

a little bit wild, a little bit tamed

it’s the final line, isn’t it?

a little bit lost, a little bit saved

ain’t we all just a little bit hypocrite?

you sing along to your favorite song’s lyrics. all alone at home, you’re totally distracted by the song’s rhythm and melody, like nothing or anyone else could reach you in that moment.

the thin sound of your apartment’s bell leads you out of your own thoughts and immersion, echoing in your head until it gives you a minimum headache.

you get up from the couch, making your way to the front door to open it.

“who the fuck is bothering me this late?” you ask yourself, picking up the key standing in the little desk nearby the door. you open the door.

“hey, how can i help yo-” your body froze when you looked at the person standing in front of you.

it’s like you haven’t looked at renjun for a while, like you two spent 2 years without talking to each other. he looks devastated, and you feel sick with his presence.

you try to shut your door, but renjun doesn’t let you. “please, let’s talk.” he says in a calm and low tone.

your mind doesn’t wanna let him in, but your heart is weak for renjun and everything he does. if he wants something, then you’re giving it to him.

you sigh deeply, letting renjun in before shutting your door and following him to your couch.

you two sat there in silence. renjun was looking at his fingers, maybe thinking of what he could say to you. in the other side, you felt totally restless. your hands were sweating, your heart was beating fast and your vision started getting blurry.

renjun cleared his throat, gaining your attention. you look at him.

“i know i was very immature.” he assumed. “i’m sorry for that.” he looked at you, your gaze meeting.

you immediately look away, not handling keep eye contact with him. “that’s it?” you say without even thinking, the two words swimming out of your mouth.

renjun was taken aback by your response, you could sense the way atmosphere in the room got more tense than it already was.

“what… what do you mean?” he tilts his head towards you in confusion.

every word said by renjun made you feel more and more nervous, like your heart could explode at any moment. “i mean, you ghosted me for 2 weeks, you never explained me why you were acting like that…” you gain courage to look him in the eyes.

“i cannot accept your apology if you can’t explain me what’s happening.” you’re clear. renjun keeps looking at you, looking for answers in your eyes.

“i told you everything’s oka-” you cut him.

“it’s not okay, renjun!” you yell, getting up from the couch with an impulse. “you always say it’s okay, when it’s evidently not okay.” you burst, emphasizing the “not” in the phrase.

“y/n, calm do-” you cut him again.

“how can i calm down?! tell me, renjun! how the heck can i calm down? you didn’t contact me for 2 weeks, i cried everyday because i thought you didn’t love me,” you pause, sighing deeply before continuing. “and you want me to calm down?”

“look, if you came here just to bother the shit out of me, then leave.” your tone is heavy and serious. “i’m already too stressed and i really don’t wanna hear your stupid excuses anymo-” it’s renjun’s turn to cut you off.

“can you please hear me?” he speaks a little louder. “god, listen to me for once in your life!” he exclaims and you cross your arms, signing for him to continue.

“i’m sorry for ghosting you, i’m sorry for everything i did to you all this time.” he gets up from the couch, facing you. “i love you so much, y/n. you don’t even imagine how much it hurts to know that i made you feel like that.” he steps closer.

you feel your shoulders tense, your hands sweat again and your breath stop with him getting closer.

“y/n.” he takes you by the arm, hugging you tightly. “please, forgive me.” his voice is weak.

you feel the tears form in your eyes, threatening to fall and stain your whole face. renjun tightens up the hug even more when he noticed you didn’t answer him, wanting a minimum reaction from you.

“please, y/n.” he begs. “i know i messed up, i know i made stupid excuses, i know i should pay more attention to you.” renjun said, feeling the tears fall all over his face. “but please, stay.” he begs one more time.

you can’t control yourself, hugging renjun back and crying like a newborn baby in renjun’s arms. his whispered-apologies could still be heard by you, followed by his hands going to your hair and a kiss being deposited in your forehead.

“please, i’m so sorry. please forgive me, y/n.” he begs for the third time.

your heart melted over renjun’s broken tone. you couldn’t handle one more week away from him, so you didn’t think twice before saying:

“i forgive you, jun.”

renjun looked at you with wide eyes, a smiling growing in his face and lightening up his dark eyes. “a-are you serious?” he stuttered. you nod in agreement.

the boy hugs you again, but this time the embrace is filled with happiness and relief. you smile, your arms still wrapped around his body.

“thank you so much, y/n.” renjun thanks you. “i swear i’ll never do that again, i swear to god.” he says without letting go, making you feel safe in his arms after a long time feeling empty when hugging him.

you spend minutes hugging renjun, hearing him apologize to you more than he should and hearing him trying his best to convince you he would never do that again.

the love, affection and admiration that used to be like fire burning in your heart now feels like it again. your love battery with renjun is finally charging itself up after so much time.

you felt like you just returned home and you really don’t wanna ever leave again.

“renjun, we spent about 10 minutes hugging,” you point out. “i think we can pull away, can’t we?”

“let’s stay like this for a little longer, please.” he asks, burrying his face in your neck. you giggle with your boyfriend’s attitude, whispering sweet things and melting in the pleasure sensation that genuine touch gave you.

#— ✦ :: on your lin !! < 3 #lulu ★ing neo!#renjun x reader #renjun angst #renjun fluff #nct dream x reader #nct dream angst #nct dream fluff #nct x reader #nct angst #nct fluff

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artist-issues · 2 months

Note

That’s cool that you love Twenty One Pilots (they’re one of my favorite bands, too). Quick question: How do you feel about the song Heathens?

Love it. It’s genius. It’s so good.

Musically, what is better than the shotgun-cocking sound that the guitar makes? Or the fact that the sound of the instrument vaguely sounds like the phrase “WATCH IT” that is being repeated over and over, so it sounds like you're getting shot by the words themselves. Like the warning in the lyrics isn't fast enough to save you from the consequences of needing that warning in the first place.

I don’t care at all that it’s in/was commissioned for “Suicide Squad.” I totally think Tyler Joseph is too contemplative and analytical to just write a theme song for characters he didn’t create. Plus, he can’t keep his hands off double-and-triple meanings, even when he’s writing original songs. So all of that to say, I don’t think the song is just basically about Suicide Squad.

But let’s talk about the concept that is in the song.

Can I just break it down this way? Can I just tell you what I would do if I were asked to write a song (nobody would ask me that, because I’m not a songwriter) for a movie where comic book villains were the main characters, and I knew that the movie would be playing on “people sympathizing with characters that are evil?”

I mean, seriously, some of you have asked me questions that get me thinking about the trend of idolizing bad guys. I think I can imagine pretty accurately what my thought process would be if someone asked me to write such a song.

I would think about my worldview. I might be a little uncomfortable, first-blush, at having to write a song that makes villains sound cool. But then I’d think about it. I’d think about what I believe; my knee-jerk response would (hopefully) be "what does the Bible say about villains? Definitely that they're bad, and bad guys are bad, not good to emulate, and they lose." But then as I thought deeper than that I'd realize what more the Bible says: that I am a villain. Or I was, apart from Christ.

Nasty and wicked, psycho and outcasted. I belong locked up. Apart from Him, apart from everything good and pure. But I'm not apart from Him. I still live on this planet and not in heaven, but nos that I’m in Him, what am I supposed to do about people who are not—people who are still “villains?”

Remember who I used to be. Because if I don’t remember who I used to be, I’ll start thinking I’m better than them and judge them and we’ll always be divided. But if I remember who I used to be, that I used to be a villain, I can get in there and tell them “I’m like you but here’s what’s different; I know Christ.”

Oh but you know what? I can’t say it like that. Or if I do, I should be prepared to be mauled by the villains. Because that’s what they do.

Like it’s in a pig’s makeup to roll in the mud, it’s in a villain’s nature to be villainous—especially when they expect you to strike first. I remember that nature because I used to have it.

So I have to be careful how I say it. I have to step carefully. I have to convince them that we have things in common—so that I can springboard off of that goodwill, that common ground, and tell the villains about the way out of being villainous. So they don't maul me before I can get the words out.

I genuinely believe that that’s where my Christian worldview would lead me, when looking for a direction to approach the task of “make a song about villains” from.

…And then Tyler Joseph of twenty one pilots writes:

All my friends are heathens take it slow

wait for them to ask you who you know

Please don’t make any sudden moves

You don’t know the half of the abuse

---

We don't deal with outsiders very well

They say newcomers have a certain smell

You have trust issues, not to mention

They say they can smell your intentions

You'll never know the freak show sitting next to you

You'll have some weird people sitting next to you

You'll think "How did I get here sitting next to you?"

---

I mean the easy read is to say, "heathens literally traditionally means 'people who aren't Christians.'" But it can also just carry the connotations of "irreverent, villainous people." So what I'm saying is, he runs the gamut. He's friends with the heathens, but to call them that and to (as the singer) address someone outside that group, he has to be a bridge between the two. Someone who is with the heathens, but is also no longer a heathen himself. And he has to warn the newcomer, who is not a heathen but is about to be among them, of a couple things.

First, be careful. Be careful how you move and what you say.

Second, notice the similarities between yourself and the heathens; you have trust issues and you're trying to figure out the intentions of everyone around you but you'll never be able to do that ("you'll never know.") Just like the heathens are: "they say newcomers have a certain smell." The key to completing your goal is to accept that your similarities, and it's actually not so strange to be sitting among them.

Third, what is your goal? Tyler only gives two hints about why this person the song is "talking" to might be in among the heathens at all. The first hint is "wait for them to ask you who you know." Why'd he say that?

Well one, on the surface, it sounds like you'd need to name-drop someone intimidating to impress criminals. But that doesn't explain why you should wait for them to ask you. So now comes the non-surface read of that lyric, the one that takes into account everything else Tyler's written about and said: wait for them to ask you about why you're there. About the God who makes you different.

Careful, don't come in swinging your sword. You might lop their heads off when you meant to save them. You might provoke them when you meant to bring peace. They've been abused. You're similar but you don't trust each other, and they don't trust your intentions. You can't just sledgehammer them with religious words; they won't understand. They'll associate it with the "abuse."

There's no other plausible way to read that.

You can try to say "it's about becoming a member of the twenty one pilots fandom," okay, but Tyler doesn't think the fandom is touchy about who joins. At least, he doesn't overtly think that. Overtly, he's claimed to be proud of the opposite—he's always quoting that one reviewer who said "your fanbase is the most inclusive clique I've ever seen." He loves the inclusivity. So he wouldn't write a song about a group of heathens who are hard to get in with and be a part of if he was talking about his fans, I don't think.

Now.

Second hint about why the person the songwriter is "speaking" to is in among the heathens; because that's actually the person's rightful place. "It looks like you might be one of us."

I think this is another layer of meaning. Not just "you were once dead," meaning you can still remember who you were before Christ and use that relatability to earn trust. But also, there's something else you have in common with heathens.

And this is where I think you could draw a more meta-line from a listener to twenty one pilots' music. You could go; "I really like this music. But maybe I don't just like it because I can relate to the hope. Maybe I also like it because there's more of me that relates to the struggle than I thought."

Even doubt. I think one of the odd things about Tyler's fans after Blurryface was that they were identifying so much with the struggles and the doubts and the darkness...but in the later eras, there isn't as clear an answer to the dark parts. So you get the vibe that he's noticing that the "brokenness" of his fan base is becoming the loudest part. That even people who came for the hope are also coming for the identifying-with-the-darkness—the bad parts.

#Asked #answered #twenty one pilots #heathens #suicide squad #Tyler Joseph #tylerrjoseph #josh dun #clique #skeleton clique

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bangrychannie · 3 months

Text

Stray Kids Fic Recs

Hello! Recently I have become a stray kids fan and have fallen into a rabbit hole of fanfiction. Various pairings bc I don't care what the pair is just that it's stray kids related lmao. Added a line break bc there's a lot. Also feel free to rec me skz fics please bc I'm always reading

the book of us; electricity: (Seungjin | 10/10 | 84,966 | teen and up)

HJ @hyunfortunately 5h ;-; i was at the store and this song was playing over the speakers and i tried to remember some lyrics so i could search it up later but i can’t find it this is TRAGIC HJ @hyunfortunately 5h it was in korean and it’s kind of got rock-pop-balladish vibes and the first line of it was “neoneun neo neoneun na” if anyone knows it PLEASE tell me Seungmin doesn’t like to interact with other people on Twitter, but the questions seems almost aimed to him. He hits reply and types, “Try Hi Hello by Day6.” [Seungmin falls for Hyunjin from 2000 miles away. He expected that it would be inconvenient. He didn't expect quite how much Hyunjin would change his life.]

Genuinely one of the best fics I've ever read. It reads like a love letter to high school in the best way possible.

so this is what love is by dwaekinz: (Seungjin | 4/4 | 43,743 | teen and up)

seungmong_22 Hi, Hyunjin! My name is Seungmin. I'm Felix's friend, I hope he's mentioned me before…? Ha. We met online two years ago. I know it's unexpected But I kind of need your help hyuntothejin Me??? After 2 years of online friendship, Seungmin has finally found the time and saved up enough money to visit Felix for his birthday. In order for the surprise to work, he recruits the help of Felix's brother, Hyunjin, and together they spend the next three months forging a plan as well as a friendship of their own— or maybe something more.

So cute and fluffy no notes

Endgame by Raesan (Minsung | 9/9 | 150,840 | Explicit)

Jisung didn’t mean to procrastinate, but he didn’t think that all the clubs would be full in just a week. He sighed, seeing that only one club still had availability. Too bad he didn’t know shit about chess. Or what happens when Jisung, captain of the college soccer team, meets Minho, the number 2 ranked chess player in the country.

This fic is genuinely SO GOOD lol I think about it every day

reply hazy, try again by mrehk (BinChan | 1/1 | 14,951 | Explicit)

Changbin’s calculus tutor is Bang Chan. Smile wide, eyes shining, curly hair wild around his head. He’s got his backpack slung over one arm, those fuck ass chino shorts with a five inch inseam that make Changbin’s mouth water— and, goddamn, he’s wearing a fucking cropped t-shirt. Jisung and Seungmin are going to string Changbin up and have their way with public humiliation when they hear about this. (OR: solving for the derivative of l+o+v+e)

Funny and cute, I love idiots in love and that's what this is

Also mrehk is a fantastic writer so if you like this fic there's way more where that came from

i will protect you (gothic font) by mrehk (Minsung | 1/1 | 16,661 | Explicit)

Seungmin ignores him, smacking the folder onto the desk, flipping it open without looking, sliding it across the surface towards Minho. “It doesn’t matter. This was in the lease. You signed, right—” he taps the bottom corner, Minho’s initials perfectly legible. “Here.” “Excuse me?” Minho leans forward. “Paragraph nineteen subsection C,” Seungmin says, not even looking down as he recites the document word for word. “Lease is not voidable in the case of suspected paranormal activity.” He pounds his finger on the period. Minho laughs. A short, barked thing, completely disbelieving. “You’re kidding me.” “I’m really not,” Seungmin’s face pinches up into the sort of fake, squinted smile someone gives when they’re being an asshole. No remorse. (OR: Minho has ghosts, Jisung hunts ghosts)

Another funny one by mrehk my beloved

one day to fall in love (countless ones to love you) by whatifidbeenthatauthor (Minsung | 1/1 | 22,018 | Mature)

Minho stopped in his tracks. He turned to face Han Jisung. He looked unbothered, still going on about his way. “You didn’t say Hi,” Minho said, forcing the voice to come out of his throat. “You always say hi, hyung.” Jisung turned to look at him, a smile playing on his lips. He looked amused. Minho’s mind wasn’t keeping up. “Today’s different, I guess,” Jisung shrugged. “I went with a variation.” Minho would have found him insufferable, but he didn’t have the mental capacity to process the frustrating sensation that usually accompanied Jisung’s presence. Minho blurted out something that might have him sent to a madhouse. “No. I’ve lived today six times. You- you always say hi, hyung.” He felt crazy. More than usual. Jisung laughed. “What the fuck,” he said, and Minho knew he sounded insane, but could this kid please not be so arrogant? “Me, too. I thought I was the only one,” he continued, and he changed Minho’s life. *** Minho's life is boring, predictable, borderline uneventful. Until he gets stuck in a time loop. And, with him, his friends' friend, Han Jisung, a crazy dude who's only into skating. And whom Minho doesn't necessarily like.

I love time loop/time travel fics if anyone wants a list of specifically those lmk lmao

(never) have your fill of me by lolainslackss (Minsung | 3/3 | 36,028 | Explicit)

“How often can he possibly be having sex that it’s disturbing you this much?” Hyunjin asks, disbelieving. “He has sex, like, every day. And then again at night, sometimes.” Jisung makes a noise of distress. He drags his hands down his face before balling them into fists beneath his chin. “It’s just . . . so distracting, Hyunjin.” “Distracting,” Hyunjin repeats, giving Jisung a meaningful smirk. “Oh, I bet it is.” “Aw,” Jisung whines. “Why’d you have to say it like that?” “Like what?” “Like you think I wish I were the one he were fucking, instead.” “Because you do, don’t you, or are we pretending we both don’t know that?” Hyunjin’s gaze flits over to Minho before it swiftly cuts back to Jisung, all-knowing. “You’d let him do anything to you. Am I wrong?” - In which PhD student Han Jisung unleashes a succubus from a magical book, winds up living with him, and then forms a sex pact with him.

I also have a lot of demon fic recs so lmk

36 Questions That May Lead to Love by bluecalicocat (Minsung | 1/1 | 17,282 | Teen and Up)

generic username @realhanjisung yo my friend wants to be a therapist, can someone pls fake date me so he can practice counseling couples? i have 3 cats @leeknow deal

This fic is so funny

Searching for My Heart in Yours by lk321 (minsung | 5/5 | 36,995 | General)

When Jisung moves to Miroh, a town in the middle of nowhere, all he’s looking for is some peace and quiet. Instead, what he finds is a prickly witch for a neighbor by the name of Minho, who accidentally spills a potion on Jisung and forms a psychic bond between them, opening Jisung to whole new world of magic. As Minho tries to find a cure for their predicament, Jisung finds himself pulled into Minho's lively and magical life. It's not the peace and quiet Jisung was looking for, but as Jisung gets to know the witch through the emotions they're forced to share, Jisung realizes that the answers he’s searching for in life might just lie here in Miroh, in places he least expects.

Feels like a warm hug

the long game by floraii (HyunSung | 1/1 | 16,045 | Teen and Up)

“Anyway,” he continues, voice still sultry, “I’ve been seeing you in class, and I was just wondering—” he moves his hand to curl around a strand of his hair. “Could I get your number?” Han Jisung’s big brown eyes blink again. His gaze darts to his lips, then to his notebook, then up to his eyes. “To study?” “Yeah,” Hyunjin blurts without thinking. What the fuck? Study? What is happening? Why is he agreeing?

Hyunjin has a type. It’s not usually shy boys in his Intro to Statistics class with big round eyes and glasses, but Han Jisung is different.

This fic was so funny I was actually laughing out loud

I have plenty more where that came from! So there will be more recs soon

#fic rec #skz fic recs #fanfiction #stray kids fanfic #minsung #minho/jisung #hyunsung #seungjin #binchan #stray kids fic #stray kids fluff #skz fics #minsung fic #minsung fics #stray kids fics

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badnewswhatsleft · 2 months

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THANK YOU FOR THE MANIA TEA POSTING like genuinely im so. interested in it i wish to know more…like we know some parts but i need the full picture u feel me

LITERALLY mania tea is fascinating im constantly microwaving it in my mind.... like don't get me wrong i rlly do love mania i will defend it always, but knowing joe was absent from and particularly unhappy with it... it doesn't affect my enjoyment of the album per se, it just always. sits in the back of my mind.

it was pretty obvious that joe was literally effervescent with pride in being more involved for srar. it was very interesting to me to find out llamania demos were likely joe & patrick close collaborations because you can tell joe really valued those sessions. for smfs: "[...] i have been more a part of the process from the ground up than i have been in years. i feel a personal connection to these songs." (p.211). and in that discord q&a "i like collaborating with my band" - like that guy clearly loves working with patrick/his band so much😭🥹

(and idk i have to shoehorn this opinion in llamania is soooooso so so so excellent to me like i promise thats not even joetrick brain speaking because i loved it before i even knew any of this info. like hello musically and LYRICALLY all 4 mins of it is already so good and interesting. im so serious)

so to see what happened with mania is so interesting. im just so stuck on the fact that joe says patrick initially agreed with him on the idea of returning to a more acoustically driven sound!!

like why would there be/who would make that sudden call to scrap everything...??

at about 00:58 in this vid patrick explains that the way it used to work, he and pete work so smoothly together they would produce a bunch of material and then ig the industry machine steamrolls on. from the sounds of it in joe's book as well, i wouldnt be surprised if maybe some version of that had happened again for mania? this is so tragic because all of srar they were so fresh faced adamant that the process would be different this time round lol. lmao even. but then... again: the fact joe says before going into mania, patrick had agreed with him on returning to a "band" sound again in the first place is still very intriguing?!?! which then leads me to think about the following -

there are also these points about mania from the guys that also give me much food for thought.

(source) "it didn’t feel like it was what me or Patrick really wanted to be doing but we both thought that was what the other wanted!" literally what. i dont like to extrapolate from one sentence where i cant even read his tone or body language but. what kind of dysfunction lol

(source) wild post-mania description of mania. everybody fights and everybody's miserable sweeeeep

also sorry for scuffed photos of book pages but the way joe describes it all is.

ummm i don't remember if i had a point to this. mania is literally like "this tea ain't shit" and half an hour later im pacing back and forth muttering to myself with none of this rocks open in my hands sticking book tab stickers on every paragraph. unfortunate album of strange creative frustration and pressure from pop culture and industry trends and joe clocking himself the fuck out of it we love to see it !!!!!

#cut cus im embarrassing #despite the length of this post i PROMISE im not being melodramatic like theyre clearly fine.#i just wanted to stick my mania thoughts on a corkboard connected with pins and red yarn and point at it crazily i guess LOOL #theyre grown men besties first and foremost and the band hasnt exploded and theyre clearly like. better than ever even #like and ik i'll just never know the ''full story'' or the ins and outs of the industry lol #sometimes u just read something and ur like ''hm. lol.''#q&a

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eddiediazismyhusband · 3 months

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i really want a fic of eddie realising him and buck have been falling in love the entire time.

I keep seeing posts (and even had someone tell me) that it’d be unrealistic for Eddie to be in love with Buck and not realise. Like not even think of him as an option.

But that’s such a real queer person thing- i’ve lived that experience. I’m a women and despite all the times I admired other women it took forever for it to click for me.

I mean I grew up with accepting parents and kind friends and even queer people on tv. I remember looking at girls as much as I looked at boys. And yet I still had the reoccurring thought “I could be gay, I mean i’m not- but I could be. But most people aren’t gay and i’m most people”. (gay being used here in my head to mean “not straight”) AND YET despite it all I didn’t realise i was Bi until I was much older.

And even then, I’d had at least two long term crushes without realising they were crushes before it clicked.

(I kid you not- it took a drag queen talking to me like i was a toddler for it to click, but that’s a whole other story SO-)

Whether or not Eddie already knows he’s gay (or demi or whatever) doesn’t really make a difference, cause it’s that same sort of heteronormative internalising that causes these feeling to not be understood.

Especially for Eddies character who’s had this messy norm with Shannon for so long, a stable thing to grasp (even when their relationship was a mess) and then her death and him chasing to find that weak grasp to SOMETHING again- something that can be another excuse to not go looking for himself.

Like he’s internalised this behaviour of, “if i’m in a relationship, I don’t have to look deep and figure out why it’s not working” and never quite realising that maybe the reason it’s not working is cause he’s trying to replace something that was never really real.

(Speaking of, Eddie and Shannon are the epitome of loml by taylor swift. I mean- “we were just kids babe” “from one kiss to getting married” “something counterfeits dead” “what a valiant roar, what a bland goodbye” “i’m combing through the band of lies- “i’ll never leave” never mind”)

babe you are speaking to the POSTER CHILD of raised in a religious household and convinced themselves they weren’t queer until it was staring them in the face

the biggest issue is that most (again i said most before yall try to jump down my throat) of the people who are against buddie are either straight people who don’t understand the nuances of queerness, or queer people who didn’t grow up in environments of oppression and have never felt the need to hide themselves

i used to tell my parents i had crushes on girls only to later realize that it was because i just had a genuine platonic connection with them (two of whom are my best friends and are also queer women) and i used to get confused about what the difference between attraction and admiration was— something a LOT of queer people go through without realizing.

comphet is literally such a widespread phenomenon that people truly don’t realize just how common it is— like even queer people don’t realize they probably know several “straight” people who are still lying to themselves bc sexuality isn’t black and white— it exists on a spectrum. I’m not saying that to invalidate anyone’s straightness, im just saying i know multiple men who are my dads age (60s +) who only recently came to the realization that they were gay.

it’s genuinely so disappointing to see some of the people in this fandom pushing homophobic talking points from history just to disprove a character’s implied queerness bc they view that character’s queerness as a threat to their ship.

anyway, i agree eddie and shannon’s relationship is soooooo unconscious lavender marriage coded to me and there are SO MANY beautiful TS lyrics that apply to that… another song that i really feel like captures Eddie’s pov of the relationship is Home by One Direction… especially these lyrics:

#911 abc #911 #911 on abc #buck and eddie #eddie diaz #evan buckley #buddie #buddie 911 #queer eddie diaz #eddie diaz is a queer man

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mistyresolve · 1 year

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if it's not too much, I was wondering how task 141 + König would react to finding y/n jamming out to this 80s song called Erotic City. it's absolutely foul but such a good song

Word Count - 1.9k

Tags/Warnings - mostly just nonsense with some allusions to the dirty

A/N - yes yes yes, this was so much fun and thank you for allowing me the honour! and nothing is ever too much when it comes to these boys. Although I'm nervous about Gaz and Alejandro bc I've never written anything for them before and I feel like I can't do those two justice. I hope I'm listening to the right song by Prince and i hope this is what you were looking for 🤍

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The 141

Ghost

You were the camp's armour and you spent a lot of your time alone. So your radio was constantly on. You had very few channels but the 80s on 8 always had the best music.

Ghost could hear the music through the open door, but couldn’t make out the lyric yet. Although it sounded vaguely familiar to him. He was coming to drop off his firearms and get them serviced. He did most maintenance himself but would come to you every couple of weeks for a thorough cleaning.

More often than not he would walk in on you singing along, bobbing your head or tapping your foot along with the radio, but this time you were full-on dancing. The type of dancing people save for when at the nightclub and when drunk.

He would knock once but you wouldn’t be able to hear him. So he would stand and wait for you to notice him in the doorway. A smile tugged at one side of his mouth. Not out of mockery but because he was genuinely impressed with your rhythm.

He would shamelessly admire your hips and ass, remembering how they felt under his fingertips a couple of nights before. If he had known you could move like that he would have had you on top of his rather than beneath him. Next time.

When you finally turn around and make eye contact with him you jump back into the table behind you. Containers sloshing with oils, and metal brushes knocking off the side.

“Jesus!” you would rub at your side and the bruise that would soon form there, “Little creeper.”

You would use the little remote to turn down your radio after clearing your throat.

He would turn over his gear, and raise his hands in fake surrender, “I knocked,” he teases, jerking his chin towards you, “but you didn’t hear me.”

“Just give me your gun and get out of here,” you weren’t one to get embarrassed but he couldn’t have caught you at a worse time. And it was him of all people.

Soap

You were in the bathroom, getting ready to go out for dinner with your co-workers when this song came on. He knows the lyric and you can’t change my mind.

Soap was sitting on the edge of the bed waiting for you to finish up in the bathroom and just when he started to question how long it was taking you, he heard the volume of the music increase. And judging by the type of song it was he already knew what he would expect when he poked his head into the bathroom.

He’d be horribly off-tune but completely on-beat and he would match your energy. He would let you be the lead because he knows he wouldn’t be able to decide whether he would want to feel you dancing on him or watch you dance to the song.

That is until you guide him back towards the mirror so you can resume getting ready while continuing on with the dancing. This way he can both see you in the reflection of the mirror and still have his hands all over you.

He loved being near you, loved being able to feel your body heat and smell your fresh-out-of-the-shower scent. The one that smelt like lavender soap.

He loved it when you played him like a violin to get what you wanted from him, and he didn’t care that you did it. He was aware the entire time and let you take advantage of him anyways.

He knew you didn’t want to go to the dinner, but he also knew you didn’t want to be the reason you guys never made it out the door. You were the instigator and he would be the initiator.

“I know what you're doing,” he sing-songed into your ear from behind, dragging his nose up the length of your neck, “and as much as I too would like to stay…we did skip the last dinner and it would be poor manners to skip another.”

“You’re no fun.”

“Oh lass, I’m fun,” he backed away, “all I said was that we couldn't skip. I never said we couldn’t be late.”

Price

The smell of bacon and eggs wafted from the kitchen, dragging Price from sleep and then the bed. He noticed your side of the bed was empty. The pillows that had been thrown off the bed last night were now neatly piled on the bed.

Next, he would follow the funky pumping music, the sun was already risen and lit up the hallways to the kitchen and living room. He watched as your shadow slid from one side of the counter to the other.

You were never up before him and you were far from a morning person. Yet he was watching you working away at the stove, wearing his white button-down from the date night before, and he decided it was a crime to cut the fun short.

You heard him come down the hallway and when he turned the corner you dragged your fingers up your body, catching the fabric and dragging it up with your fingers. Revealing nothing but promising everything.

He took a seat at the island, folding his arms across his chest and continued to watch. His soft eyes followed and cataloged every twist and bend of your bare legs. Lingering on the silhouette of your body through the shirt as the sunlight passes through it.

“You’re makin’ me breakfast? At seven am? What did I do to deserve this?” he tosses you a sleepy smile from behind the cup of coffee you just poured him. Black and as strong as you could make it. He preferred the bitterness.

“You took such great care of me last night, seems only fair I return the favour,” you poured yourself a cup of hot water for yourself, preparing it for a tea bag.

Confidence bloomed in his chest. That I did. He thought to himself.

“Carry on, Dancing Queen,” you did as he asked but not without a quick kiss.

Alejandro

You were picking him up on base and it was normal for you to pull up with loud music but the last thing he expected when he opened the passenger door was “Erotic City” by Prince to be absolutely blaring.

Each time he called you for a ride he told himself it was the last time. He debates the repercussion should he decide to walk the rest of the way to HQ rather than get in the car with you.

Your sunglasses hanging on the tip of your nose and your eyes peeked out from the top, and you would immediately point at him, an invitation to join in on the festivities.

He would immediately decline with a firm shake of his head. He knows the song but refuses to take part in the antics. He will be staring out the window until the song ends.

He gets even more annoyed when you roll down the windows, slow down the car by 5 and turn the music even louder. He isn’t sure if he wants to laugh at the ridiculousness of it all or if he wants to rip the stereo out of the dash.

He wasn’t moody or angry but he had a reputation to uphold and you revelled in making it just that much harder for him. He wasn’t going to give you the satisfaction of you knowing that you get under his skin.

He could still you out of the corner of his eye, watching as even though you were restrained by the seat belt you still grooved. He felt your fingers poke his shoulder, taunting him.

He didn’t even wait for you to fully put the car in park before he was hopping out, slamming the door behind him, “Get your ass out of here,” he jabbed an accusatory finger at you as he passed the front of the vehicle.

He could see the shit-eating grin from behind the windshield, and he couldn’t help the matching smile from spreading across his face. He shook his head and that finger switched to the middle one as he walked into a building.

Gaz

He would be coming back into the bar from getting some fresh air and when he walks in he is met with you pulling people onto the floor. The night was getting older and still no one had taken the leap so you took matters into your own hands.

This man wouldn’t skip a beat and would cheer you on. He would be cheering the loudest and would hype you up like no one else could. His energy would be infectious and the rest of the bar would follow suit.

He wouldn’t jump into the fray immediately, he would be content just sitting and watching while you work the bar. Elbowing the men around him and pointing to you, “That one’s mine,” he would announce proudly with a boyish grin.

All you would have to do is look for him (not even look at him, just the act of you looking for him would drive him crazy) and he would find his way onto the dance floor to join you.

His mom forced him to take a dance class in high school as an elective so this man can move. He would lead obviously, but he would keep to the genre of dancing you were doing before he joined. He would make sure you were comfortable and happy the entire time.

The two of you would stay on the dance floor for the next few songs. Till you are both sweaty and out of breath. Till your both giggle as you guys make your way to the bar for another drink.

+ Konig

At first, he would be completely content just watching you while leaning on the door frame. His arms crossed, biceps stretching the fabric of his shirt (he was doing this on purpose bc he knows you like it), and a wide toothy smile paired with the always there mischievous glint in his eyes.

You had come into the kitchen to clean and put stuff away but your soundtrack was coming out with banger after banger.

He always enjoyed watching you be carefree and encouraged it. In fact, he lived vicariously through your devil-may-care attitude. He wanted so badly to join you in these situations, but the fear of watchful eyes kept his feet firmly planted by the entrance.

He may understand English, but when it came to music he listened to the beat and melody more so than the contents. So when he caught a few choice words he tuned his ears in.

His eyes drop to your mouth and he begins to decipher the actual lyric. Reading your lips to aid him. His smile gives way into a confused frown, his eyes flicking to the speaker bumping the music into the room. His blue eyes would narrow, and his brows would knit together.

Next would be the rouge that creeps up from beneath his shirt to the tips of his ears.

Oh. Ohhh.

“Mein Gott, I have to go,” He would attempt to vacate the area as soon as possible. You’ve already taken note of his change and immediately grab at his arms. Wrapping your warm body around it and guiding him back into the room, sitting him down on one of the kitchen table chairs.

“Just enjoy the show,” you roam cheeky hands across and down his chest.

Maybe it was the fumes from the cleaning supplied or the music was influencing him but he obediently leaned back into the chair, spreading his legs to allow you more room.

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A/N - sorry, i was gone for a little while i had a wee health scare 😗

Tag List: @thychuvaluswife ❤︎ @shuttlelauncher81 ❤︎ @lostinsideourminds ❤︎ @v1naco ❤︎ @konig-breedme ❤︎ @wolfyland07 ❤︎ @dog55teeth ❤︎ @cumbersome-robes

#cod fanfic #mw2022 #mw2 x reader #call of duty #task force 141 #konig #simon ghost riley fanfiction #simon riley #soap mctavish #john soap mactavish #captian price #john price #konig mw2 #cod headcanons #call of duty headcanons #task force 141 headcanons #alejandro vargas #kyle gaz garrick #MistyGhosties

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sunnebeam · 1 year

Text

good for a weekend.

DRABBLE.

pairing: jung hoseok x reader

warnings: smut (minors do not interact), oral (m receiving), unprotected sex (yall know the drill, let's be protected irl), sex against a window, blank space au, chaebol!reader (she has issues), businessman!hoseok, profanity

masterlist + disclaimers.

note: took me a long time to choose the title for this one bc i just realized i already used a blank space lyric for jimin's drabble lol. but anyways here it is! idk the accurate word count but i think this is longer than all my other drabbles so far. enjoy <3 don't forget to share ur thoughts and give feedback ^^

When you were younger, you didn’t really understand why no one wanted to be friends with you.

Apart from your butler Yeonjun (who's paid to put up with your shit but is still genuine in his companionship nonetheless), a paintbrush and a canvas were the only real confidants you had for your pent up frustrations as a child.

Now that you're older, your isolation becomes more self-induced.

"Is it true that she's back together with Kim Taehyung again?”

“No, I heard that her family arranged for her and Park Jimin to marry next year...”

“But wasn't she spotted looking cozy with Jeon Jungkook at a bar last week?”

"No, no, I could've sworn she was hooking up with Min Yoongi—"

"Damn, she's going through men way too fast, don't you think?"

“Honestly, I think she's just a spoiled, rich playgirl."

You sigh, sitting on your chair in the art room of your very own mansion — a gift from your father after he missed out on your eighteenth birthday — while Yeonjun watches you paint your heart out.

“I haven’t seen Kim Seokjin around lately…” he muses as he steps closer to look at your work. By the looks of it, you must be feeling some pretty angry emotions.

“Silly Yeonjun,” you giggle too loudly, hand gripping your brush rather forcefully as you stare at your palette. “Seokjin and I broke up ages ago. Actually, I haven’t seen him since the haircut incident.”

Ah, the haircut incident…

Yeonjun shivers, remembering that outburst all too well. The memory of you hysterically chopping off your hair in a fit of jealousy while Kim Seokjin helplessly tried to get you to stop. That marked the end of your six-month relationship, leaving you with uneven chunks of hair and the man with a questionable restraining order.

Not your best moment, that much you can admit.

“Anyways,” you snicker, shaking your head to clear the onslaught of memories, “let’s not talk about him anymore, ‘kay?”

You stand up, leaving your painting half-finished, and walk over to the big floor-to-ceiling window.

Your mansion is the biggest in the area, filled with numerous rooms and spaces that far surpassed the amount you need for basic living. Your art room – easily the biggest room, even topping your master bedroom – houses a beautiful glass window that overlooks the property.

“Besides,” you say, clapping your hands, “we have more important things to worry about.” You turn to him and squeal, jumping up and down. “My art exhibit is in a couple of months! Can you believe it, Yeonjun?"

Your excitement has you skipping around the room in glee. You’ve been planning your own exhibit for months and now that it's drawing nearer, you feel more excited than nervous. You hope with all your heart that this exhibit could finally paint you in a proper light, letting you shine as 'the young, twenty-something art extraordinaire' instead of the 'resident fuckgirl who's only good for a weekend.'

“I know, sweetie.” Yeonjun smiles, feeling genuinely happy for you. But before he can further share in your excitement, the doorbell rings.

The noise makes you glance at your watch and smirk. Right on time.

Together, you and Yeonjun walk down the massive staircase to greet your guest, and Jung Hoseok hears you before he even catches sight of you — the clicking of your heels resonating loudly across the living room. He turns his head to the sound and smiles handsomely at the both of you.

For a few moments, none of you say a word but the electricity between you and your guest is hard to ignore.

"Shall I leave you to your business?" Yeonjun breaks the silence, directing the question at you. After all, at this point, he already knows the drill whenever you have your guests over.

You nod, never taking your eyes off Hoseok's and your butler immediately excuses himself.

Once it's just the two of you left, Hoseok holds out a hand to you. “Jung Hoseok. Pleasure to meet you."

You tell him your name, placing your hand in his and immediately, he brings it up to gently brush his lips against your knuckles. “Pleasure's all mine, Hoseok."

“Just Hobi is fine, gorgeous."

He winks at you and smiles. And just like all the other times, you feel yourself falling. Spiralling. Obsessing.

“Hobi…” you repeat, “shall we go over the terms of your company's sponsorship for my art exhibit?”

“Of course,” he responds. "Shall we discuss it in your office?"

"Oh no," you feign disappointment.

"What is it?"

“I'm terribly sorry, Hobi,” you utter, “but my office is under renovations at the moment—"

(It isn't.)

"—and I’m afraid it's not convenient for business discussions for the time being.”

“Is that so?” Hoseok muses, his eyes on your lips as you purse them contemplatively. “Should we take our discussion somewhere else, then?” He offers, not wanting to cut his visit short.

He stares right into your pretty eyes and he swears you've performed some sort of magic right then and there because he finds himself right under your spell.

“Good idea." You smile, your hand sliding up to rest on the crook of his elbow as you lead him up your stairs. “I know the perfect place.”

And that's how he found himself in your bedroom, sitting on the edge of your immaculate bed with your head bobbing up and down between his legs.

"Shit," he curses when you take him deeper in your mouth. "Yeah, that's it, gorgeous."

You look up at him with wide eyes, making sure to maintain eye contact when you swallow around him. He bites his lip at the feeling, his thumb reaching out to wipe the stray tears running down your cheek.

You look so pretty. So fucking gorgeous.

Hoseok wonders how the hell he managed to get an invitation to your bed. Sure, he's quite attractive but you're in a whole other league of your own. You're way up there on a pedestal, you and the other chaebols in your wealthy family's circle. Whereas, he's just a mere businessman trying to negotiate a sponsorship proposal.

But, fuck, he's not complaining.

You whine when he pulls you up and onto his lap, your lips releasing his dick with a pop. Feeling needy, you suckle at the soft skin of his neck while he desperately removes your clothes and then his.

"Hobi," you whimper into his neck and the sound goes straight to his already hard cock. "Need you. Please."

"Shit," he groans when you rub your leaking core against his thigh. "Hold on to me."

You comply, wrapping your arms and legs around him, and he stands up to walk the both of you towards your bedroom's clear, glass window. Just like the one in your art room, this one spans wall-to-wall, floor-to-ceiling, and overlooks the front of the mansion.

He sets you down on your feet and turns you around so that you're looking out. Your pussy dribbles even more arousal at the sight of your enormous front gates from the distance, the thought of being seen turning you on.

"Hobi," you whine when you feel his throbbing cock prodding at your entrance, and push your ass out in response.

"Don't hold back, gorgeous," he tells you when you let out a muffled moan. "I want the whole mansion to hear you."

He enters you swiftly, making you groan loudly and press your palms against the window. He pulls back, making you whine desperately and shift your weight on your feet. He slams back inside roughly, making you scream incoherently and fuck yourself back on him.

"That's it," Hoseok groans, "fuck me back."

And you do.

He thrusts into you in rough but deep thrusts. You fuck back into him, arching your back, causing your tits to press against the glass. The added stimulation to your nipples makes you play with your clit, making figure eight motions and heightening your pleasure.

"Shit, gorgeous. You're creaming."

He sees a creamy ring of white on the base of his cock and curses, the sight pushing him closer to his climax. You only whine in response, clenching around him uncontrollably.

"Hobi, I'm gonna—"

"Cum with me, gorgeous," he coaxes you. "Now."

You obey, cumming around him while he finishes inside you. You're breathing heavily, relishing in the warmth of his release and he just chuckles affectionately at your fucked out face.

He pulls out of you and when you lead him back to your bed, he suddenly feels exhausted. His eyes can barely stay open and the last thing he remembers before sleep takes over him is your voice telling him three little words.

When Hoseok wakes up, he sees you all dressed, propped up on the headboard and glaring at him.

"What's wrong, gorgeous?" he asks groggily.

"Who's Sooah?" you ask him immediately, your voice clipped.

"What?"

You show him the unlocked phone in your hand. His phone.

"What the fuck? You went through my phone?"

"She was texting you nonstop. Who is she?"

"She's a colleague, not that I need to explain myself to you. And she's the venue coordinator for your art exhibit!"

"I don't beleve you!"

"How the fuck did you even know my password?"

"Are you cheating on me?" you demand, tears falling down your face.

"Cheating on you?" he repeats your question incredulously. "We literally just met!"

But you aren't listening to him. No, you're spiralling, clutching your hair and looking at him desperately. "Did I do something wrong? Is she prettier than me? Is she—"

"You're insane," he cuts you off, frightened at your sudden behavior. As quickly as he possibly can, he puts on his clothes and scrambles towards your bedroom door. "Fuck this shit, I'm leaving."

To his surprise, you don't follow him, though he can hear your heartbroken wails all the way to the front door. When he gets to his car, his eyes widen and his jaw drops.

"WHAT THE FUCK? YOU WRECKED MY CAR?!" he yells, the question directed at you but his exasperated eyes are trained on his wrecked vehicle.

The punctured tiles, cracked windshield, and dented exterior would cost him a fortune. But he decides that's a problem for another day. Right now, he just has to get out of here.

"Crazy bitch," he mutters when he finally exits your property gates on foot.

Back in your room, you cry your heart out while Yeonjun caresses your hair comfortingly.

Your butler knows the drill by now. You just need one day to cry all your tears, another day to forget about it, and around three more days to move on.

Which is why, a few days later, Yeonjun opens the door to a charming, dimpled face. He leads the man to the living room where you're waiting and leaves you two to your business.

"What's your name?" you ask your guest.

"Kim Namjoon," he replies, taking your hand and kissing it. "Pleasure to meet you, gorgeous."

A heartbeat. Then another.

And then you smile.

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