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collectivecloseness · 1 year

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Eddie Munson x Rockstar!Reader

Eddie got into the nearly nonexistent line, hours before the show he’d saved up for so long for, the sidewalk behind the black rope soon to be filled with your adoring fans, who’ll wait for you to enter the stadium, hoping for autographs. You were so kind, Eddie knew, that you’d give some lucky people your presence! Or the ones who were good attention grabbers, and oh was Eddie skilled at that! Easily he made his way to the front, and he stayed there after being one of the first in the row, and through intimidating the many people who tried to barge in front of him. Body firm as he held tight to the rope, and stuck in place.

Until you came out of your car. Eddie’s body went through a rush then, every cell in him firing up and making his body soar, as he became just another part of the cacophony of screams, jumping up and down in place while you headed down the line to the stage doors, waving at everyone who screamed your name.

He couldn’t believe he was seeing you again! He’d seen you a bunch of times, but he’d never gotten this close! You were so... amazing, this close up, and not just on a poster or record art. This was you, in all your glory, pumped before a show with that intense surge he knew all too well from his smaller gigs. And Eddie was not only starstruck, but lovesick...

You signed two people’s books, who were closer to your car, before you reached Eddie. His smile beaming as he realised you were stopping! And then you took off your shades, just to smile and look into his eyes. Just for him. His mouth dropped open.

“Hey! I think I saw you this morning, outside of Brent St? I recognised your hair. It’s soooo pretty on you!” You genuinely compliment him, seeming enthused at his looks. Asking him, like this was just a normal conversation between two warm strangers. And that was Eddie. You remembered him...!

Eddie literally can’t help but cry. Fat tears blocking his vision of his dream girl, so he swipes them quickly away from his face, even as they keep coming. The charm bracelet he made based on titles from your albums, scratching at his cheek. Eddie nodded hard, his voice loud and eager. “You’re right! That was me! I’m Eddie! I’m your biggest fan I- I’ve been to every show!!! Thank you so much! You’re the pretty one!” He hopes that last one was okay, swallowing a lot of spit as it blurts out. After he tried to cram every thought into his small one on one time with you. Nervous, but you making him higher than any drug in his stash back home would do to him.

But you keep smiling at him, and his breath stops, as you lean over, and so tenderly play with his hair. “Don’t put yourself down pretty boy. You’re beautiful Eddie!” Your fingers are still teasing the roots in his hair and Eddie just about melts. It felt so good. Eddie couldn’t remember the last time someone played with his hair, someone touched him like this. And you’re touching him! You! Trying with near pain not to close his eyes from your caress, your petting, because he wanted to watch you holding him so fondly!

You sign the little autograph book Eddie can barely keep a hold of, that’d he’d almost forgotten about, and he’s thanking you over and over, just word vomiting about how he’s been following your music since day one, how much he worships it! Mentioning an underground concert basement he saw you play in, which he sees your body light up at, knowing it was one of your very first professional gigs. While you keep on signing.

But then you take his hands, cooing audibly over his rings, before letting your fingertips play over them, up to his own pads. “These are guitar players hands, right Eddie?”

Eddie nods, eagerly informing you all about the model he plays, knees trembling as you’re holding his hands. His eyes flitting between how beautiful you are this close, and what you’re writing into his skin, as you take the pen cap lid between your dark lipstick, and focus on his hand. He swears he’ll get it tattooed. Whatever it is, as soon as he’s home.

Eddie looks as you finally (unfortunately) let him go. It’s not only your autograph on his skin, but some random word. Fleeting panic bubbles up in Eddie for a second, was he supposed to understand some kind of reference? But you explained straight away, “It’s a password.” You had leant in to whisper, ducking your hand and your mouth under those pretty curls to press your cheek to his ear. Giving you two some privacy. “Give it to a backstage manager before the show. But don’t worry, I’ll still remember you again, like I did today.” When you finally leant back, you winked at Eddie. A few fans behind you screaming into his ears at the display. But almost like only you and Eddie existed, you stroked those gorgeous curls you couldn’t believe you’d only seen today, knowing you wouldn’t forget them now you had been so blessed.

Eddie can barely nod, his hands gently holding onto yours as it starts to softly slip out his grip. His eyes as wide as his lips were thick, mouth on the floor as Eddie watched you slink away. Not taking your affectionate eyes off of his until the final second, where you put your shades back on, and turned around to sign one more picture. Before ultimately waving to everyone, and heading inside. Disappearing from public view, behind heavy doors, and butch security.

Eddie’s puppy eyes could finally leave you, head slowly creaking down to his hand that was just trembling. Especially as he looked and saw the black ink still there. That just really happened... Now Eddie wasn’t running to get to his front row place through the auditorium’s doors. He was running to any stage door, any, so he could obey you. To see why you gave him this password and why you wanted to see him! And so, just like you wanted, he could go follow his star...

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velvet-paradox · 10 months

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Heartstrings (Part One)

Fandom: Sleep Token (Band) Pairing: eventual Vessel x Female reader Length: Medium Summary: Memories haunt our beloved frontman, some he'd like to forget and some he's been hiding. Warnings: eventual NSFW, 18 + ONLY, strong language, tobacco use, alcohol consumption, supernatural (no, not the show) element, a twisted little game. Tagging: @synnersaint as always, @megangovier20

NOTES: I’ll be reposting to @roman-is-a-horse as well as that’s my little hole in the wall for all things masked men and Sleep Token

ENJOY!!!

He's exhausted. He's all sweat and grit, dirt beneath his fingernails, mud on his boots.

He could care less.

What he needed was sleep. Glorious, pillow soft sleep. And the deity let him.

He dreamt of monkey bars, chipped green paint, orange creme popsicles, a dizzy tire swing blurring in the distance, a familiar face hanging upside down from a wound up swing set. The air is light and the sun is high. He learned why ancient Egyptians rimmed their eyes with kohl. Learned the proper pronunciation for Persephone. Had his first kiss. Got into his first of many, fist fights and tasted blood and why you don't pick at knuckle scabs. The taste of woodchips.

And then he met you.

Vessel woke with a jolt, restless leg syndrome, jerking him at the worst of times but helpful on the stage.

"You're pretty when you cry." That silky voice that lulled him to the dreamworld sang down to him. Above his head, resting oh so carefully upon his pillow was Sleep, taking the form of a smoky red cat with six black slits for eyes. The deity grinned sharp, bone white fangs before leaping into the air at Vessel's recognition that he was indeed crying, his cheeks and lips streaked with salt. Sleep hung in the air above him, wagging its tail.

"Bad dream?" Sleep asked, resting its face on its paws like some teenager, coiling the phone cord, awaiting the latest hallway gossip.

"I'm fine," Vessel sniffled and turned on his side, an attempt to ignore his maker.

Sleep rolled onto its' back, little red paws pointing up to the ceiling before floating in front of his face and purred. "That's not what I asked."

Vessel blamed it on his uncomfortableness, the bed was cold and the sheets icy against his bare legs. Sleep wasn't buying it, squinting all six eyes at him as he tossed and turned for the rest of the night. ....

"That's not fair!"

"Life isn't fair, brother, get used to it."

"You big troll, that's the last can!"

"Watch it you little gremlin or I'll step on you and put you out like a light."

Brotherly threats floated up stairs along with the smell of someone cooking breakfast. Cinnamon butter, scrambled eggs, no doubt since his heathen brothers refused to eat them any other way. Roasted earthy mushrooms, peppered bacon.

Vessel clung to the staircase watching three others maneuver around someone's rented home in the highlands. Through a large bay window he could make out the silky green grass and sparkling yellow daffodils dancing in the wind.

SpaghettiOs.

III and IV were giving II shit in between grabbing plates, poor thing was jumping up and missing terribly the can of the tomato sauced rings. Vessel shook his head and jumped down the last two steps before they all stuttered to a stop, III hid the can behind his back as if he were about to be scolded.

"Never gets old, huh?" He asked and snagged a piece of less burnt bacon.

"Not a chance." III resumed his taunts until II gave up, growling low in his throat and angrily shut off the stovetop, marching outside into the daylight.

"Package came for you this morning." IV mumbled through a mouthful of eggs as he found him out on the porch swing. Vessel took the box with more questions than answers.

"Who knows we're here?"

IV shrugged and joined him on the bench, crossing his legs as the wooden slats swayed.

Vessel looked it over. Just a standard brown box, wrapped in a weeks worth of clear packing tape. Just several stamps -international corners, a beating or two in a mail office dented one of the boxes sides. He took the switchblade IV handed him, scoring the edged until it came loose.

He shook whatever was hidden, another box came tumbling out into his lap along with a folded piece of cardstock. He handed it over. Though as he dug around inside, he should've looked at the note first because IV's eyes, already on the large spectrum, had bloomed into bright blue saucers.

"What? What is it?"

"Look and see."

Vessel dropped the note to the ground as it were on fire. Explosive. A grenade of nostalgia and pain, if not sudden death.

ARE YOU GAME?

No.

No no no no no.

He could feel IV's eyes on him as he fumbled with the spare box, careful with the folds, peeling back the layers on carefully placed and wrapped tissue paper. His fingers ghosted over the jewelry or what was left of it before holding it up in the afternoon sun.

Vessel began to panic, anxiety was never far from him as he thumbed over one of the personally laid coins like a treasured rosary and if he were totally honest; it was just that. ....

Vessel had recently gotten into a band called Immortal the previous summer, expressing himself in a similar manner of covering his face (still experimenting with paint on his hands, he was always on the look out for the best greasepaint his first high school job could afford), in black and white paint, cut off jackets and ripped denim. Had attempted to look as cool as possible with a cigarette behind his ear. He never smoked it, just toyed with his mothers' addiction. The girls dug it so there was always that.

His friends chased squirrels until the popular girls noticed them, could've been a dare, could've been a prank but that didn't stop them from turning and chasing them instead. Their shrills squeals of laughter sang through the halls, tickled pink for attention in the back of classrooms.

The boys had ditched him once again as they left him at the playground, holding on to his bullet belt as he made his way, by foot, across town towards his job. He was going to be late, but the owner of the coffee shop couldn't care less; he was probably a few beers in as it was only three that Saturday afternoon.

Louie could really pound them down.

He was almost there when he stopped short. There on a park bench were a pair of shapely legs. Just sitting there in the air. Torn fishnets with shin high striped socks and boots, scuffed and beat up, much like his own when he looked down.

He crept by slowly, curious if they were a mannequin's legs or if they were real or, God forbid they were just that. No body attached! How scandalous!

A murderer on the loose and Vessel would be the first witness to the crime. His stomach had flipped at that.

But still, the young man proceeded forward, cautiously now as he left his usual path and got closer, squinting when he saw one of the ankles twitch.

Vessel made calculated steps around he bench and saw- gratefully of course, that the legs were indeed attached to a body, the body of a girl his age that he'd never seen before. She was laying upside down with her eyes closed, arms bent and on the ground beneath her head so she wouldn't roll off and crack her skull. An opened can of SpaghettiOs sat next to her, along with a sad looking purse.

"What are you doing?"

"What's it look like I'm doing, smart guy? 'm thinkin'." Was her response. She didn't even bother to open her eyes and acknowledged him. Foreigner for sure, he thought.

"Upside down?"

"I get all the cobwebs out better this way," then she cracked one eyes open, searching for him in this state and she smiled, the brightest smile he'd ever seen on a person. Stunning. Absolutely fucking stellar. "You should try it."

"Doesn't all the blood rush to your head like that?" Vessel turned his head to see her face better.

"That's the point, silly! When my brain talks to much the best way to shut her up is to rush her out, let her out. Come on, try it. There's plenty of room." She quipped and wiggled over in the bench, using her hands for leverage.

Vessel looked at his watch; twenty minutes until his shift started and he'd need to be there and get his apron on and punch in his timecard and Louie might not be drunk and waiting for him patently at the doors with a pained expression and angry, uncaffeinated patron waiting to get their fix.

He had trouble moving his body and wincing when one of the bullets jabbed his hip bone, but all in all he managed her similar position. Fucking wild. His jacket creaked when he moved his hands to the earth below, mimicking her position.

"Good job. Now watch me. Just breathe in and out like this, don't think about anything other than that and you'll be clear as a Koi fish pond."

He frowned but went along with it, looking at her as instructed he slowly shut his eyes, long legs growing tired he let them hang over the back of the bench instead and controlled his breathing.

He wasn't thinking about school or work, his thesis he had yet to start that was due in two weeks time. Not what he was going to have for dinner or which skirt II was trying to get under this week. Probably Jessica. II was always after Jessica.

"See. How do you feel now?" She asked.

Vessel couldn't even answer her at first, too caught up in the sensations, more aware of her perfume when his senses kicked into overdrive with his heartbeat pounding in his ears like this.

"Weightless. Clear." He mumbled.

"Exactly."

Then her hand was on his, carefully he opened his eyes and his world felt like his house of cards were about to tumble down if he breathed too loudly.

"I'm Y/N." ....

He thought about you as he ran the rest of the way to coffee shop, the little blue and white striped awning coming into view as his boots pounded pavement. He was just seconds away from being late, clocking in just in time and wrapping a brown apron around his jacket in the backroom.

He thought about as he rang up a pretty dark skinned girl, fresh faced and smiling at him.

He thought about you when a crotchety old woman barked her order and waited too close to the counter until he could brew it, which she made him do it twice. He thought about you when a regular by the name of Johnny Two-Step came in, grooving to the beat of whatever song which was playing softly in the background.

He thought about you on the walk home, every park bench he passed by, with his hands in his pockets were shockingly empty.

Would he ever see you again?

Where you from? What were you doing here in this small seaside town? And why were you eating cold SpaghettiOs right from the can like a cat with a tin of tuna? ....

"Straight from the can?!" III asked the following day, sitting on his roof with an open notebook, ready for some action along with a stolen can of his father's beer. It would go unnoticed. They always went unnoticed.

III's dad would give a shrug and mumble about needing to slow down though he never did, he just went out and bought more, stocking the fridge in the garage for the next day.

"Never seen anything like it."

"I would hope not! Sounds like she's a screw or two loose."

"Maybe."

Maybe you did. Maybe you were what his mother would call 'quirky' or carefree, the possibility of being a hellion might be written in the stars for you too. Either way Vessel was into it.

"No no no, that's not how you do it. Here, you're just gonna' make a mess of it. Now look, you take the can like this..."

Vessel couldn't help be drawn into the kitchen of a house party a few weeks later, he'd toyed with the cigarette again, holding between his two front teeth as some girl in an obscenely short dress chatted him up outside. He told her to hold that thought and maneuvered through the bodies. Sweat and beer lingered on the air, music pulsed and couples and a possible throuple but Vessel's standards were making out in a dim corner.

The snap of a beer can had him joining the little circle around the sink. A few guys cheered. A few girls made noises, he couldn't decipher whether it was a good or a bad thing at the moment.

Vessel towered over the group, watching II wipe his mouth over the sink before slipping his trusty balaclava back up over his nose. He saw someone and when he looked, his eyebrows shot up to his hairline in an instant.

It was you.

It was really you!

You cheered in delight, gave him a high five and grinned.

"Whose next? How about you pretty lady?" You waved Jessica over, who was shy at first but followed your lead in her pink and yellow bellbottoms and halter top.

After your next shotgun you hugged Jessica who looked worse for wear and slumped against II who was more than happy to help her stand and move out out of the kitchen. II passed him in the doorway, giving him a fist bump to the shoulder, talking to his love interest, lost in the haze of beer and clouds of weed smoke.

"You! There you are you big tall drink of water."

Vessel turned just in time to see you, focused and barreling straight towards him, a look of drunken excitement on your face. You weren't stopping and then you were lunging at him, embracing him in a hug that should feel all sorts of foreign and wrong but... was welcomed and warm and you smell like floral perfume and beer foam.

You looked up at him with silly grin. "Hi."

"Hi yourself. Having a bit of fun I see."

"Wanna' shotgun a beer with me?"

"Maybe later. How many have you had already?"

You made a goofy sound in your throat, released his waist and took his wrist in your hands, dragging him outside. Something made of glass shattered somewhere inside the house as you two ducked out and sat down in a little gazebo on the property. Vines and little white flowers coiled up and around the lattice.

"You gonna' smoke that?" You asked, digging those same weathered boots into the dirt.

"You want it?"

"Can I share it with you?"

"You can have it. I actually don't smoke."

Your expressions ranged and rivaled those of a comic strip as you looked at him. "What the what?! You don't smoke, yet you just casually have a cigarette behind your ear?"

Vessel shrugged. "It's just an accessory at this point."

"Next thing you'll be telling me is you're not a real jester!"

"A jester?"

"The makeup! You're not a clown either? Some practicing mime? Although if you were a mime you wouldn't be talking, would you?" You drunkenly mused and Vessel wondered how many beers you’d already rushed into your bloodstream.

Vessel snorted and shook his head. "Afraid not. I'm just a guy."

"A handsome guy." You huffed and lit up the cigarette, leaning back on your elbows as you smoked.

Vessel snorted, unaffected by the tobacco hanging around your heads as you both looked up at the moon. Tethered to it's soft glow over the treetops. "I've been called a lot of things, but handsome ain't one of them."

You bolted upright, cigarette renting space between your teeth and burning his eyes as you grabbed his face like you were old friends.

"That's a damn shame. I'm going to make it my mission to tell you everyday I see you how good you look. Even if you are talking mime!"

Part Two Part Three

#look friends #i don't know what to tell ya #i got an idea in the middle of the night and haven't been able to put it down #vessel is so fun to write for bc... POSSIBLITLIES DUH!#anyway this will have some supernatural elements #as i'm making sleep into a figure that vessel can see and interact with #let me have my fun ok??#sleep token imagine #sleep token fanfiction #sleep token fanfic #sleep token fan fic #sleep token fic #vessel x you #vessel x reader #vessel x female reader #vessel imagine #the characters involved are not mine ofc #except the random oc's i'm seasoning in

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