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#lets get it
animentality · 1 year
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EXACTLY. BENOIT DESERVES A COOL VILLAIN.
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eddiesghxst · 6 months
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PRICE OF FAME (PART 5/12)
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HEHEHE THIS ONES PACKED W LOTS OF... STUFF, ENJOYYYY!!!
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18+ — MINORS DNI
pairing: rockstar!eddie x journalist!reader
summary: eddie doesn't think he hates you anymore and you can't figure out eddie's game
contains: enemies to lovers trope, smoking, drug and alcohol use, sexual themes, masturbation (f), maybe a little kith (hehe), flirting, and eddie being a jealous boy <3
word count: 6.5k
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The four-day break seems to go by in the blink of an eye, and before you know it, it’s show day again.
As always, everybody is busy and filled with pre-show jitters. Although Eddie and Gareth have yet to speak with one another and resolve their dispute, breakfast is not as tense as last time, and you assume the time away from each other has aided in that realm. But then again, you have an inkling that Eddie is only putting up a nice front for Wayne since it’s his last day in New York.
Eddie is stiff and rigid throughout the morning, taught as a guitar string and vividly battling something he has yet to announce. He’s quiet at breakfast and only speaks when directly addressed, and he doesn’t taunt any back and forth that could transpire between him and Gareth. Jeff’s girlfriend joins the table for the first time, and you sit beside her. 
Naomi is kind and bubbly with tight, curly brown strands that smell of honey and lime whenever she brushes past you. She’s from a small town in Georgia, where she spent most of her life before going off to college and getting a bachelor's in fine arts. She tells you about her most recent projects and showcases and even invites you to attend if you’re ever in town, and you take her number to keep in contact.
Jeff has radiant energy throughout the meal, and you think he and Naomi make a fine couple with how they seem to complete each other.
After breakfast, you make a few calls for work and fill in Anna on your progress. She informs you that they’re working on setting a date for Corroded Coffin’s photoshoot for the magazine and should be in contact with Richie sometime soon. When Anna asks how the trip has been so far, you lie and tell her it’s been seamless and fun. 
You never told Anna about Eddie hating your guts, and you don’t even debate telling her that you’ve somehow stirred the pot between two of the band members or that you kissed the lead singer.
You’re still having a hard time convincing yourself that it was even real.
For a moment, when you woke up this morning, you thought you’d dreamt of kissing Eddie, but no dream ever feels as vivid as that.
You could feel the warmth radiating from Eddie’s body, the coolness of his rings stinging your cheeks when he placed his hands over your jaw to pull you in. The taste and smell of weed mixed in with the worn-down scent of his cologne from the day. And the kiss was so quick, and you were so sleepy you barely had enough time to memorize what his lips felt like or how the feeling of his warm breath against your upper lip sent shivers down your spine.
It left you in a daze for most of the day. Every time you remembered what had happened, your heart raced and the back of your neck heated— and you wanted to ask Eddie what the fuck that was about, but Eddie was nowhere to be found.
After breakfast, Eddie practically falls off the face of the earth. Nobody hears from or sees Eddie, and he doesn’t even show up for rehearsals, which is when Richie becomes suspicious.
“Has anybody fuckin’ seen Eddie, for the love of god?” Richie exclaims. Off to the side, the bass player plucks a deep tune in boredom. Standing center stage, Jeff looks at Richie and shakes his head before glancing at the other two members. Gareth sits behind his drum set, twirling the thick drumsticks between the knuckles of his fingers, lower jaw promptly working a piece of gum as he shrugs. His eye looks better, you note.
And that’s another thing. Gareth has been avoiding you like the plague. You didn’t talk to him much before, but now it’s as if you don’t even exist, and fuck is it making your job more complicated than it already is. How are you supposed to write about Corroded Coffin when half of the said band hates your guts?
Wayne had been spending the day at the hotel, preparing to fly back tomorrow morning, so you doubt he knows where his nephew went. Richie asked an assistant to check if Eddie was being a hermit in his room, but to nobody’s surprise, Eddie wasn’t there either.
By the time 8 o’clock rolls around, the doors to the venue have opened for fans to flood in, and Eddie is still yet to show up. You stand in front of the barricade, a perfect and obstructed view of the stage where you can see everything, including the hustle backstage. 
Wayne has opted for a seat next to the sound booth in the crowd, claiming he’d rather not spend the next few hours standing on his feet, “When you’re older, you’ll understand.” He claimed.
You enjoy the opening act, bopping along and singing to the lyrics you know, and before you know it, the band is leaving, and the clock for Corroded Coffin’s appearance is ticking— still, no word from Eddie.
You’re busy watching the stage crew set up Corroded Coffin’s display when a familiar face approaches you. “How’s the article coming along?”
James, one of the three tour photographers for Corroded Coffin. You sat next to James on day five of breakfast. James is kind, and with your little snippets of conversation, you’ve come to peg him as not exactly what you’d expect. 
James’ skin is littered with tattoos, sleeves up both arms with intricate ink slithering up his neck. You’d ask him how many tattoos he has in total, and he’d confessed that he lost count a long time ago and has now resulted in just throwing out a random number when people ask, to which you laughed.
He has jet-black curly hair that you’ve only seen at breakfast because he likes to slick it back most days, and he has piercings in each ear and one on his right eyebrow. 
He’s a character, James. Intimidating from the outside, but nothing but soft, fluffy teddy bear warmth on the inside. 
“It’s… well, it’s going. I’ve still got a bit of work to do, but so far, so good.” You nod. James smiles and nods, “I’m excited to see the final product. I won’t lie, after we spoke at breakfast, I did a little digging,” he responds. You raise your eyebrows in interest, “Digging?”
“Yeah, you know, looked at some of your past work and whatnot— which, by the way, the piece on the Cocteau Twins was insane,” He exclaims. Your eyes widen, “Really? Not many people talk about that one; I didn’t think it got around.” You laugh.
James tells you about his favorite pieces of yours he read, and he asks questions about each one of them. What your favorite interview was, who were you most excited to write about, and which of your works is your favorite piece so far.
You eventually end up talking about James and his current projects aside from the tour. He tells you about the new exhibit he’s partnering with in downtown LA. It’s an immersive piece, something new in the art world where the audience, for the first time, will get to experience art in a more tangible way. It’s more interactive and fulfilling for those who struggle to grasp the full context behind the art, and James seems more than excited about it when he tells you to stop by if you have the time.
However, before you can respond, the lights in the venue dim, and the crowd roars. 
This has always been your favorite part of a show, that moment when the lights cut off and the arena comes to life with a shared excitement. It’s exhilarating and pulls you to the edge of your seat, no matter how often you’ve seen it.
Through the smoke-filled venue and the dark atmosphere, you can see each of the boys file out onto the stage, Gareth spinning his drumsticks between his knuckles as he steps onto the drum riser while the other two grab their instruments. Three members are on stage, and you remember that Eddie has been missing in action for the entire day.
The crowd grows louder when they see the shadows of the boys on stage, screaming their names and chanting in anticipation. And as he shreds the first chords to the opening song, you worry that Eddie really might’ve skipped out on tonight’s show.
You’re happily mistaken, however, because soon you see another figure step out, and the crowd goes deafeningly loud.
Beside you, James smiles and shakes his head, “Shit never gets old,” he yells over the screams.
And your heart is racing for some reason as you watch the tall figure walk in the darkness, curly mane of hair akin to a halo as he steps up to the mic, electric guitar strapped across his body.
He leans into the mic and says a few words, words you don’t even hear due to how loud the crowd is, but you feel the gruffness and bass of his voice booming through the speakers, and you nearly mistake it for your heartbeat.
Because when the song finally starts and the stage lights go up, you’re at a loss for words.
Eddie is gorgeous, undeniably so; he always has been, and you never thought he wasn’t. The only thing that got in the way of Eddie’s beauty was his shitty attitude towards you. But this… the way Eddie looks tonight— you’re a speechless and wavering mess of mixed feelings.
Tonight, Eddie is beautiful.
His hair is down as usual, curly and healthy strands sitting pretty atop his shoulders, and he’s opted to play the show in nothing but leather pants and his usual boots.
His upper body is on full display, broad shoulders, and muscles flexing with each strum of his guitar, back muscles working overtime as he trashes along to the music. He’s covered in a thin sheen of sweat, tattoo-covered skin glistening beneath the lights, and you want nothing more than to run your hands down his chest and watch the way it smudges beneath your fingertips.
When the second song finishes, Eddie’s chest is heaving as he pauses and looks out into the crowd, scanning the rows with a lopsided, smug grin.
You can hear faint pants leaving his lips as he leans into the mic, jewelry-wrapped fingers hugging the fret of his guitar. He gazes in silence for a moment, listening to the cheers of the crowd that pull the corners of his mouth into a wider grin. And you don’t even notice the rest of the band on stage because all you see and hear is Eddie.
You hold your breath when his eyes find yours, and your knees nearly buckle at the sight of his dark eyes shining beneath smudged, black eyeliner. 
“Fuck,” he breathes with a smile, softly laughing when the crowd screams at his voice, “Do you look good tonight, New York.”
And he’s saying this and looking at you.
He is staring at you like he can see through to your soul, and it makes your head dizzy with a whirlwind of emotions and greedy wishes.
You don’t even realize you’re holding your breath until Eddie finally looks away from you and into the crowd, “Are you ready to have a good time, New York?”
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Eddie has never, in all his years of living, played as well as he did tonight.
He’s not sure what exactly caused this; maybe the fact that Wayne is in the crowd tonight, or perhaps because he’s still pissed with Gareth, or maybe because he can’t stop thinking about kissing you, or probably because he hates the way you and James won’t stop fucking talking to each other.
Eddie doesn’t know why it pisses him off to see you laughing and enjoying the company of James, but it does. It ticks him off to no end, and he can’t help the feeling that brews in his chest when you lean forward to hear James over the music or when James innocently squeezes your bicep to get your attention before he says something.
By the middle of the show, Eddie has had enough. He’s four shots of tequila in, and he’s feeling bold with the crowd's energy, so when his infamous guitar solo in one of the songs comes, he doesn’t stand center stage as usual.
No, Eddie makes sure to walk over and stand right in front of where you and James stand and play his solo like it’s the last time he'll ever play.
It’s a sinful view, and the crowd goes wild, the big screens zooming in on his skilled fingers dancing across the frets, the flexing of his wet torso, the flutter of his lashes when he closes his eyes and tosses his head back. His lips are slick and parted in ecstasy from the adrenaline high. 
And Eddie can feel your eyes on him. Can feel the heat of your gaze burning through every inch of his body, rolling over every movement he makes and taking him in like he’s a prized possession in a museum. He thrives off of it, and he plays harder.
When his solo ends, Eddie doesn’t bother looking at the crowd or James or his band; no, Eddie only looks at you, making sure you understand what he’s trying to say through his eyes. And for a moment, Eddie wishes James would turn the camera away from him and capture your beauty instead— because you look like an angel under red lights.
Eddie has only allowed himself small moments to appreciate the sight of you, but now, he is greedy with the upper hand he has. He takes in every piece of you; your hair, your eyes, your lips, the delicate necklace kissing the skin of your collarbones— and Eddie wants to run his tongue up the side of your neck and hear you whimper for him. Wants to dig his teeth into your skin until you keen and whine and beg him for more more more. 
The skirt you’re wearing, god, it’s fucking short, and Eddie imagines the way your skin would feel beneath his fingers, pressing into the fat of your thighs and marveling when the skin gives way to the pressure. Hot and messy fingerprints all around your hips and ribs. Teeth bearing marks across your stomach and chest. Eddie is dizzy with lust and need, and he feels like a fucking animal writhing and waiting to pounce.
Greedy, greedy, greedy.
He wants it all.
The rest of the show goes back and forth like that. Eddie catches glimpses of you and James talking and takes it upon himself to direct your attention back to the stage— back to him. Near the end, James finally focuses on his fucking job and busies himself with taking pictures instead of flirting with you, and Eddie walks off the stage feeling satisfied.
The band does their meet and greet backstage and signs a few autographs before they can do their usual post-show rituals: drinking, playing games, and making plans to go out.
Despite his love for post-show rituals, Eddie wants nothing to do with it tonight because he can only focus on you. 
You’re standing with James and a stage crew member, talking about something Eddie could care less about, given how he cuts into the conversation, “Can we talk?”
Your eyes are wide and bright when you turn to him, shocked by Eddie’s ability to even acknowledge you, and Eddie thinks about last night and how your lips felt against his. “Um… talk?”
Eddie’s still high on post-show energy, and he doesn’t like that James is standing so close to you, so he takes a leap of faith and wraps a hand around your wrist, gently tugging with a short nod, not even waiting for an answer before he turns and drags you out of the green room. 
He doesn’t know at what point his fingers traveled down your wrist to slip between your warm and gentle fingers, but he becomes hyper-aware of it as soon as you both step out into the hallway, the slam of the door echoing behind you, “Eddie, where are you taking me?”
Eddie glances back at you, fingers subconsciously squeezing yours, “Dressing room. I wanna do the interview.” He answers.
You halt at his response, heels digging into the cement floor and tugging Eddie back, “What?”
The heat of your palm is burning through Eddie’s skin, and he’s not sure if he’ll be able to stop himself from what he wants to do if he continues touching you, so he lets go. “The interview.”
You shake your head and squeeze your eyes, “No, I heard you, but… I mean,” you pause, “why? And why now? This can’t wait until—“
“Look, if you don’t want to do it now, that’s fine, but I’m not doing it any other time.” He doesn’t wait for an answer before turning around and continuing to walk towards his dressing room.
You silently watch for a moment, clearly confused by the sudden change of heart, but you nod either way and follow after him.
Eddie hardly pays any mind to you when you walk in behind him, busying himself with walking over to the bar cart and pouring himself a glass of the first bottle he sees. Glancing over his shoulder, Eddie notices you awkwardly standing near the door and snickers. “You can take a seat, sweetheart; I didn’t bring you here to, like… chew you out or something.” He jokes.
He makes you a glass despite not asking, and when he turns around, you’re now seated on the light brown couch in the middle of the room, hands fiddling in your lap as you silently wait for Eddie.
He sits on the opposite side of the couch and places the second glass on the coffee table, wordlessly nudging it toward you before leaning back in the seat and taking a long sip.
“Where’s your cute little journal?”
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You’re confused.
You don’t understand the game Eddie is playing, and it’s driving you insane the longer you look at him, leaned back against the plush couch, smug smirk kissing the rim of his glass as he takes a slow sip, brown, hazy eyes glazing over your nervous figure. The sheer button-down top he now wears is fully unbuttoned to reveal his sweat-glistening torso, leather pants hug his thighs, snug and tauntingly, the button popped open and zipper pulled down to show the sinful sight of a trail of hair that leads to places you’ve been trying so desperately not to imagine. You don’t mean to stare, and you catch yourself when he shifts his hips upward to get more comfortable, the sight of his lower stomach flexing and tattoos coming alive on his skin sending shivers up your spine.
You clear your throat and turn to grab your journal out of your bag. You haven’t had the time to buy a new journal after you ruined the binds by tearing out those pages for Eddie, so you must handle the remaining structure carefully.
You take a deep breath and flip to a clean page, clicking your pen once before glancing at Eddie, “Okay, I guess we’ll… start.”
Eddie smirks, and you want nothing more than to wipe it away.
You open your mouth to ask your first question, but Eddie cuts you off, “I have a proposition,” he begins.
You look at Eddie, blinking once and thinking over if you want to indulge in whatever trick this is. You relent, “Okay?”
Eddie smiles triumphantly and leans forward to put his glass on the table, yours still untouched. He grabs the pack of cigarettes lying to the side, picking a single stick and grabbing the lighter before leaning back onto the couch, lighting the cigarette before shifting to face you. He drapes an arm across the back of the sofa, blowing out a cloud of smoke before speaking, “I get to ask you questions as well. Like a trade-off, for each question you ask, I also get to ask one.”
And it’s not as bad as you’d thought, really. Knowing Eddie, you had expected him to propose a game involving stripping or drinking of some sort, and you had prepared to immediately shut him down— but this, you can settle for this.
So, you shrug, “Okay. We can do that.”
Eddie hums in delight, taking another drag of the burning stick and nodding for you to begin.
“Okay,” you sigh, shifting to get more comfortable. In the distance, you can hear the chaos of backstage rituals happening, and you fight through the noise to focus. “We’ll start light. What made you choose music?”
Eddie twiddles the cigarette between his fingers, silently thinking, “I don’t know. I grew up with music, never went a day without it, so, in a way, I guess you could say music chose me.” He responds.
You nod, “What are some of your first memories with music?”
Eddie smiles and gazes up at the ceiling, and you watch as he seems to wander down a road of memories. “When I was younger,” he begins, “before my mom died, I remember waking up and going to the kitchen to watch her cook breakfast,” he pauses as if trying to see through the fog of time to explain it clearly.
“And she had this small green radio that sat on the window sill, and she would play all of her tapes; The Mamas and Papas, Jefferson Airplane, Sam and Dave— you know… hippie shit.” He says. “I knew Surrealistic Pillow like the back of my hand by the time I could talk, I swear.” He jokes, smiling when you softly laugh. He looks at you, a glint flashing in his eyes, and you can tell the memory brings him a joy he misses. 
And you find yourself thinking back to a few days ago, when you were walking beside Wayne with Richie and Eddie a few paces back. You remember what Wayne had told you then; you remember the tone in his voice and the careful thought he’d used behind each sentence.
“Give him time,” Wayne softly says. You glance over your shoulder and catch a glimpse of Eddie and Richie sharing a cigarette. You turn back to Wayne when he adds, “You’re a nice girl, and Eddie… Eddie doesn’t know what to do with nice.”
You dig your teeth into the inside of your cheek, chest tightening at the pained gaze in his eyes when he speaks, “He hasn’t had much of that in his life.”
“I know you don’t owe it to him, but just give him some time… he’ll come around.”
Eddie glances at your empty page before gazing back into your eyes, “You gonna write something down? I’m not repeating any of this, just so you know.”
You nod, snapping out of your daze to begin writing. Eddie patiently waits as you jot down your thoughts and conversation, burning through his cigarette and watching your every move.
You look back at him when you finish, and fight the urge to shy away when you realize he hasn’t looked away from you this entire time. “Um, okay, tell me about—” “I believe I get to ask two questions now.” Eddie cuts in with a smirk.
“Oh,” you pause, “Yeah, okay. Go ahead.”
Eddie ashes his cigarette and grabs his drink again, “When did you start writing?”
And Eddie keeps surprising you. For some reason, you thought Eddie would ask something dumb, inappropriate, or condescending— nothing of this matter. You didn’t think Eddie was interested in actually learning something about you.
You sigh as you think, “Well, the first time I ever wrote for myself was around middle school; I had a diary.” You respond, and Eddie’s eyebrows raise in interest, “It was lilac with a gold lock on the pages, and I carried the key around on my necklace because I was so afraid someone would get ahold of it.” You shake your head as Eddie laughs.
“Now, what in god’s name was little middle school Birdie writing about in her secret diary?” Eddie pries.
You scoff, “Like I’d ever tell you that.” You roll your eyes, and Eddie makes a sound of protest, “Come on, it can’t be that bad.” He pokes. You raise an eyebrow and glance at Eddie, “You’d be surprised by what goes through the mind of a twelve-year-old girl on the precipice of puberty. I’m taking those pages to the grave.”
Eddie laughs loudly at that, head tossing back with the action. You find it beautiful, the way his neck stretches and his skin molds against his bones— kissable and enticing.
“Okay, well, aside from your secretive diary. What made you choose this,” Eddie nods towards the journal in your lap.
You hum and purse your lips in thought, “I’ve always loved writing. I loved reading too, still do, and I tried writing fiction, but there’s something about writing people’s stories that just… feels good.” You respond.
“I know how easy it is to become misunderstood in this industry, so I want to hear the truth and help the audience see things from a clearer perspective. I want to help create an understanding if that makes sense.”
Eddie nods, eyes soft and smiling within his gaze. “That’s neat.” He comments, and you smile.
He sips his drink before speaking, “So, how did you end up writing for Rolling Stone Magazine?”
You laugh, “A shit ton of groveling, I’ll tell you that.”
You reach forward and pick up your drink for the first time, taking a sip before speaking, “I’d been trying to get an interview for the longest time, and then I finally just gave up for a while, but then my friend saw an opening a few months later and sent in one of my writings and… I guess they liked it enough to hire me,” You shrug.
“But,” you hold up a finger, “I spent a good year just running errands and shit for the managers; it was awful,” you admit. “So, how’d you end up with the big guys?” Eddie asks.
“Well, I wrote a hell of a paper and blew their fuckin’ minds.” You jokingly say, smirking over the rim of your glass as you take a sip. Eddie softly laughs and takes a sip of his drink as you place yours back down on the table in exchange for picking up your pen.
“My turn,” You remind him.
He nods, and you glance at your journal, thinking about what you want to ask next. “I know in the past you’ve mentioned that you don’t particularly release songs about your life, but you rather opt to tell stories within your music,” you mention, and Eddie nods in confirmation. 
“What’s the reasoning behind that?”
It’s a slightly more in-depth question, and Eddie has to take a few moments of silent pondering before he answers. “Well, for starters, I’ve always considered myself more of a storyteller. I like to create different scenarios and characters and find ways to bring them to life,” He begins.
You quietly jot down notes as you listen to him speak, “When I was in high school, I got really into Dungeons and Dragons, and I still love the game, but I guess you could say it stems from that— the storytelling aspect, I mean.” 
“But as for why I don’t release more personal songs… I don’t know; I guess I just like to keep a part of my life private to some degree. However, that doesn’t mean these made-up characters and scenarios I sing about aren’t in some way correlated to me,” He hints, and you nod in understanding.
“That’s neat.” You copy his words from earlier, and you both smile.
You and Eddie go back and forth with questions for a bit, touching base with topics like childhood, friendships, current projects, and such. It’s nice to have a decent conversation with Eddie, and for a moment you forget that you’re even doing your job because interviewing Eddie feels like any normal conversation you’d have— lighthearted, smooth, and innocent. Until—
“Alright, my turn. This one’s good,” Eddie starts.
You’re both two glasses in, and your cheeks feel warm from the drinks as you gesture for Eddie to go on. Eddie gazes at you and studies you briefly before speaking, “What’s going on with you and James?”
You blink in confusion, “James?” You question. Eddie nods, “Yeah, James. The photographer.” Eddie explains.
Your face twists in slight confusion as Eddie sips his drink, “What about him?” You ask.
Eddie laughs, “What’s up with you two? Are you guys together or something?”
And there it is. The game that Eddie’s been playing all along, revealed in all its true nature. 
Your eyebrows furrow in defense, annoyed with the sudden shift in demeanor, “Is that any of your business?” You question, and Eddie laughs, tapping his ring against the glass of his drink with a soft clink, “Sweetheart, it’s my business if I’m cutting the check.” He snickers.
You narrow your gaze at him, clearly irritated with his words. You don’t know why you ever gave him the chance. Eddie has only ever shown you his true colors, and he’s, more than once, told you that he doesn’t take you or your profession seriously. This has reminded you so.
“You don’t pay me,” you snap, “And I doubt you’ve even touched a check in the last three years.”
Eddie smirks, amused by your sudden frustration, “Maybe you have a point,” he relents, “But you still haven’t answered my question.” He points out.
You roll your eyes, “Why do you care, Eddie?”
Eddie shrugs, “I’m curious.” He smugly answers. 
“I don’t ask you who you’re fucking, do I?” A lousy attempt at dodging the question.
Eddie shrugs again, “You could if you want to, I don’t mind. I bet you’ve been curious to know anyway, haven’t you?” He replies.
You don’t like the way that makes your insides squirm with heat.
And you could tell him the truth. You could tell him the simple and honest answer that, no, nothing is going on between you and James. But as you look at Eddie sitting across the couch, you can’t find a single reason why Eddie should even care or why he should have the satisfaction of an answer. “Ask something else.” You say.
Eddie doesn’t waste a second to spit out his next question, “Did you like the kiss?”
“A different question.” “Those are my questions, princess.”
God, you don’t even know why you’re putting up with this. You could easily just get up and leave, but you hate to give Eddie any room for thinking he’s won whatever stupid battle this is. 
You shut your journal, refusing to stay another minute, going back and forth with Eddie. You stand and grab your bag, shoving your journal in before looking at Eddie and finally answering his original question, “No, nothing is going on between me and James.” You admit. And you think Eddie will leave it at that, but you're sadly mistaken.
“And the kiss?” He asks.
“What about it?” Your composure is beginning to falter and your frustration is seeping into your tone. Eddie’s eyes glint with mischief, gaze never leaving your fidgety frame as he speaks, “Did you like it?”
“No.”
A lie. A terrible one that Eddie can see right through.
You begin making your way to the door, but Eddie catches you before you can even lay a finger on the handle, turning you around to face him when he speaks, “You’re a shit liar.” He points out.
And he’s so close you can barely think straight with his overwhelming presence. You find your footing through the haze, gazing into Eddie’s eyes when you speak, “Did you ask me to come in here so you can answer my questions, or did you just want to waste my time?”
Eddie is silent for a long moment, eyes dancing between your wide and sharp gaze, darting down to your lips, the tip of his pink tongue darting out to lightly lick across his bottom lip. You can smell the smoke on his breath, reaching out to mix with your liquor-coated exhales.
“Did you like the kiss?”
Fuck.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
Eddie has you cornered now, pressed against a wall so tight you have no choice but to admit defeat, moving forward to press your lips against his liquor-slicked lips.
It’s hasty. Messy, greedy, drunk, and needy, and it rids your mind of all rational thought as Eddie presses himself against you. 
Eddie kisses you like it’s the last chance he’ll ever get, pressing into you so close you’d think he’s trying to jump into your skin. And the taste of Eddie is addicting.
You crave for more, and you’re hesitant to push, but Eddie understands the second he feels your tongue lick against your lips. He takes it upon himself to push his tongue into the warm, wet cavern of your mouth, and you happily let him. All clear thinking has gone out the window at this point, and you let your bag slink off your shoulder to plot onto the floor, busying yourself with sinking your fingers into the curly strands of his hair and gently tugging at the root. Eddie moans against your lips, and you pant, your brain going dizzy at the heavenly sound.
Eddie’s hands are eager and hungry as they rest against your hips, sneaking up your torso to squeeze and grab at your skin. And he hates the fact that there are so many layers of clothes between you, and he wants them gone.
His hand travels down the side of your body and digs into the thick of your thigh, dipping lower to catch the back of your knee and hitch your leg around his waist. You keen, pitching your hips forward into Eddie’s, and he moans, greedily squeezing your skin and gliding up your leg. Cool rings send shivers up your spine when he slips under the hem of your denim skirt and kneads the fat of your ass.
If breathing weren’t a necessity, you would kiss Eddie forever, but your lungs burn with the lack of air, so you find yourself pulling away with a wet gasp, “I—“ Eddie presses a kiss to your lips, cutting you off before you can speak and you whine, fingers moving to dig into the soft material of his open shirt, “Eddie, I can’t… I can’t breathe, I gotta breathe,” You pant.
Eddie laughs, and you smile as he trails his kisses down to your neck, licking against the base of your throat before sinking his teeth into the skin. You moan, whiney and loud in Eddie’s ear and he hums in appreciation, grumbling into the skin of your neck as he speaks, “I wanna fuck you.”
His teeth scrape against your pulse, and you gasp, head dropping back against the wall with a soft thud as your nails dig into the skin of Eddie’s shoulder. “What?” You hazily blink.
Eddie moves back to see you, lust-ridden eyes darting all over your face. And he looks so pretty, hair messy, shirt skewed against his lean frame, lips swollen and pink from kissing, and you want him. You want him to a dangerous degree.
He kisses you, muttering his words against your lips as he squeezes your hips and pulls you closer, “I wanna fuck you.” Eddie repeats.
You pant, opening your mouth against his and preparing to speak, but you’re interrupted by the door opening, the two of you jumping at the sudden intrusion, your hand swiftly shoving at Eddie’s body to push him away. 
And you think you might die because who better to walk in on you and Eddie practically devouring one another than fucking Jeff.
“Oh, shit, uh,” Jeff looks the other way as soon as he sees you and Eddie. You hastily pick up your bag and tug your skirt back down to a modest length from where it had ridden up to your hips.
You and Eddie are still breathing heavily from your extremities, and Eddie— fucking Eddie; he snickers when Jeff glances back at him and makes a lazy attempt at holding back a laugh. Your face and neck heat up in embarrassment as you shift in your spot, wanting nothing more than the floor to open up and swallow you whole.
“The car is here, man, let’s go,” Jeff snickers before leaving.
And truthfully, you don’t currently have the confidence to look Eddie in the eye and register what’s just happened between you two. So, you grip the strap of your bag and flee before Eddie can say or do anything.
You’re not sure how that happened, and you’re not sure why it makes your stomach twist in a way that makes you blush, but you like it. 
And you can’t believe yourself.
You can’t believe that you spent the entire drive to the hotel thinking about how Eddie’s hands felt on your body, his lips against the skin of your neck, or how you could feel him pressed against your thigh, begging to be touched.
When you shower, you try to ignore the throbbing ache between your legs when you think of those words Eddie whispered to you. You try to ignore it as you get ready for bed and ignore the toe-curling sensation of the cool hotel sheets brushing against your hardened nipples when you slip into bed. You try so hard; you really do.
But you can’t help it when you begin imagining how Eddie’s hands would feel across your chest, the light and rough feeling of his calloused fingers ghosting over your nipples to watch as you writhe beneath him. 
Fuck, you really try to ignore it.
But you can’t. It’s annoying, the way Eddie clouds your mind. And you feel like a bitch in heat when the only thing running through your mind and body is the burning desire to cum. And if you stuff your hands between your thighs and bring yourself to cum to the idea of Eddie and the feeling of him pressed against you with your name on his tongue, who’s to judge you but yourself?
Because despite everything your mind is telling you, you can’t help but find yourself wanting Eddie.
But all of that flies out the window the following day.
You’d decided to order breakfast to your room, and the hotel sends the daily newspaper with each meal, and you like to read it while sipping on a hot cup of coffee on your terrace. However, when you see the newsletter cover, you’re not sure you have much of an appetite for coffee.
A picture of Eddie from last night with a familiar red-headed girl wrapped around his arm and a caption that makes your stomach twist in knots. The caption, ‘Corroded Coffin lead singer, Eddie Munson, new girlfriend debut!” in bold and italicized letters.
And you don’t know why, but your stomach sinks. You should’ve known better.
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part six
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a/n: HIII YOU MADE IT TO THE END!! i know i said there would be drama drama in this part BUT it started getting too long for my liking, SOOO THE REAL DRAMA WILL COMMENCE IN PART 6 HEHE. THANK YOU FOR READING, AND AS ALWAYS, I LOVE TO HEAR YOUR THOUGHTS SO PLS LMK IN THE COMMENTS OR REBLOGS HOW YOU FEELLL <3
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cutie lil taglist: @mastermindmiko @whataboutbibi @ryanmxrie @ihatepeanutss @tlclick73 @motherfckerrr @emxxblog @jesssssmaybankk @eddiesguitarskills @bibieddiesgf @chloe-6123 @micheledawn1975 @demxnicprxncess @emma77645 @sidthedollface2
@mvnsonslvt @s-u-t @hereforshmut @mmunson86 @welcometohellsock @lma1986 @birdsinmywalls @animechick555 @sheneedsrocknroll92 @spideydreams00 @lorosette @prestinalove @sirensleepingsoundly
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mangoob · 2 months
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Hey guys who wants to start bookworm tumblr with me, let’s get revolutionary
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fadedinmysong · 10 months
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it's taeil time ! HAPPY BIRTHDAY MOON TAEIL
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kithtaehyung · 3 months
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You don't understand how excited I am for minted 🧍
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i was able to work on it a bit last night and let me tell you… it’s getting even spicier LMAO so lfg!!
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fridayiminlovemp3 · 2 months
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long ass title. i’m so ready
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jmdbjk · 9 months
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Jungkook is all grown up ~ Min Yoongi, June 13, 2022
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So, I guess we’ve all had a chance to restart our hearts and get our big girl undergarments changed after seeing this:
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Is this the “climax” of what Kookie has been working on since early February? He's had an agenda all this time?
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Jungkook has been trying to break out of this BABY star candy, golden BABY, BABY highness, giant BABY villain bubble he’s been in forever. I feel called out, JK. Let’s not kid ourselves though. He’s been grown up for a few years now.
JK biases/stans have always been horny over him and see him as his My Time performance sex god. It took me a while to view Kookie in that light. The muscles, the boxing, the tattoos, the piercings do not tickle that "sensation" in me as easily as it does for the JK biases. I'm resistant to his "charms."
I do love him but Jimin is the one who makes me think and feel things I won’t detail here. As I said to my bestie the other day: "I don't know why I feel that way about that skinny little thing." Seriously, the idea of a bias is so interesting though isn't it? So, just saying, the following is my point of view as I think out loud....
When I first saw this image:
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… for a split second my brain registered "Jimin" and then went "huh?"…. hmmmmm. Of course it also went, wow, naked. Also I thought, let's get it JK... bring it.
And then upon seeing the rest of the images and his behind the scenes video I had to sit with it and think about it... the other similarities in the other images: the spikes, the grainy photo effect... very intriguing. They (Jimin and Jungkook) really do play off each other don't they?
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As I'm processing all of this, I think about what I know:
They have a team of stylists. They have a team for content. They have teams for each member. They have staff. It's the "big machine" that Namjoon mentioned once. And the big machine all work in tandem.
What I’m assuming:
The teams may work on all or some of the members. For instance some people on the style team may work on Jimin and Jungkook but not on RM’s team. We don't know though. Might be one team who works on every single one of them and individuals are just delegated to doing the tasks.
More specifically, and also for example… I know Bit and Boot (the hair stylists) travels with them overseas. So I am going to assume the Bit n Boot team consists of a point person and several others who style their hair. Or maybe they are one and the same person. Or maybe several stylists. I don’t know. I'm assuming more than one because when they are overseas they need others to tend to the other members needs elsewhere.
I know the wardrobe team in the past has explained they get samples from clothing companies or design houses and they catalog them for future use. They meet with the members (at the time I saw this information the solo era had not begun yet) and determine what sort of look or concept will suit a particular theme. This is a very creative process in my opinion. And this one particularly would be involved in the members' solo concepts because other than the actual set surrounding the subject, its the clothing that conveys the vibe and theme.
So all that being said… seeing JK’s images very similar to Jimin’s is so interesting to me. I feel 99% sure it was not a coincidence nor was it incompetence or the ridiculous claim of “plagiarism.” I saw JK's smile when he saw Jimin commenting during his lives. I saw it when he was watching Jimin on tv. I saw him say wait until midnight when something amazing is coming (SMF MV) so don't try to tell me now that he's undermining Jimin's work.
There’s something else going on here that we don’t know what the goal is yet but copying Jimin is not it. JK is conveying his concept. I am a big proponent of the members making the choices and decisions for their solo work. I am 99% sure this was done intentionally. But why?
HOWEVER. THAT BEING SAID. I recall how much Kookie has been watching Jimin over the years. At least ten years now. And I feel strongly that Jimin has influenced JK tremendously. I feel like JK has learned how to be empathic and he’s learned about work ethic (though putting that into motion for him looks much different than it does for Jimin). And if Kookie thinks Jimin is sexy when he does [insert whatever it is Jimin does that turns Kookie on] then he might try to emulate that? Remember, I'm just thinking out loud here.
Or are they really just flipping us the bird and doing what they know turns each other on? That would be a fabulous joke on us. I would love it, to be honest. Jungkook has been vocal in the past whenever Jimin has shown his sexy side and he's been pretty obviously obsessed with him in his lives lately too.
Anyway...
We may never know, it might be a mystery forever why the image concepts are so similar. We can make up all the theories we want (and we do) and make assumptions and “put two and two together” reading between the lines, but knowing exactly what was going through their heads is something we’ll never know unless they tell us.
Is there something in the near future that this is all leading to? I guess we have to wait and see… (don’t you hate it when someone says that?)
Maybe it will be for the long awaited Jikook collab? I had a video concept that I sketched out roughly for my bestie yesterday but now I'm going to elaborate on it: JKxJM collab, the MV opens with Jimin stepping out of his Like Crazy MV set with the mud splattered pants and JK stepping out of his Seven MV set in his oversized outfit and they start taking off their clothes but underneath each layer are their "look alike" clothes and there is layer upon layer they have to take off and its comical because there are so many couple outfits they've worn over the years, until finally they get down to the white tank tops and boxer shorts and then they break it down in the mother of all dance breaks that will break the internet and slough off the dead meat of the fandom and then when the song is over, they walk off the set arms over each other in a giggling fit.
Why hasn't BigHit hired me yet? My brain is full of these uniquely creative ideas that will never see the light of day.
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utterdrip · 2 months
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hm
im gonna do everything i can in act 2 before going to moonrise
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magicshop-pjm1 · 5 months
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(JUNGKOOK) ‘GOLDEN’ THE TRACKS PT. 2:
INTERESTING!
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This album is shaping up to be very interesting. I'm excited to see what JK has in store for us!
LET'S GET IT!
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drewstarkeyslut · 3 months
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if you see this — happy new year to all my mooties + followers!✨ hope 2024 is amazing to you all!! grateful for all of you + especially grateful for all the mooties i have gotten close w/ over the past few months, lucky to have made such amazing friends here. i ove you all sm! Here’s to another Drew filled year😝🤍
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jjkeverlast · 6 months
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fucking hell it’s happening.
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prismprisonr · 4 months
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new blue sun = blue kachina
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eddiesghxst · 4 months
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PRICE OF FAME (PART 9/12)
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HIIII HERE SHE IS!! i hope u enjoyyyy <3
18+ — MINORS DNI
pairing: rockstar!eddie x journalist!reader
summary: you have questions and eddie needs to get something off of his chest
contains: enemies to lovers trope, alcohol consumption, sexual themes, angst, feelings feelings feelings, and eddie going through a crisis <3
word count: 5.1k
| previous part | next part |
| series masterlist | -main masterlist- |
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Eddie’s gonna be sick.
There’s a sweet smell of pancakes and coffee wafting through the air and a dizzying chatter dancing amongst the table, and Eddie’s going to be sick.
He’s not sure why because all he’s had was a cup of throat coat, half a French toast, and a cigarette, but he has a feeling it has something to do with the empty chair across from him. Or maybe it’s the guilt that’s been churning in his gut since the moment he stepped out of your room last night. Or maybe it’s the realization of the truth that Eddie was forced to admit when Richie found him at the studio early this morning.
Eddie’s not sure who told Richie or how much of the story Richie knows, but Eddie hates feeling like this— feeling out of control. It’s a sick feeling Eddie had been used to when growing up, but now that he’s older and has his career and money, Eddie does everything in his power to never get into situations like this— and nine times out of ten, these situations only come with things like the press.
And it’s upsetting— the way this has spun out— because Eddie knew this would be the result, and he was so desperate to avoid it in the beginning, but he’s not sure when that persistence vanished. Somewhere along the line, you managed to find the split in Eddie. The part that needed fixing the most. Eddie’s not sure where that split is, but he feels it, and the change— you— has seeped too deep into his skin to dig out, and Eddie is panicking.
He’s been panicking since yesterday— since he fucking pulled out of you, and you looked at him like he was the only person you’ve ever really seen. Like you were seeing him in color for the first time.
He couldn’t think because all that tossed around in his mind was you.
He couldn’t speak because all that would form on his tongue was your name.
He couldn’t breathe because all he would inhale and exhale was your scent.
He was drowning in you yesterday. Sinking like a stone, quicker than he’d ever intended to— because, believe it or not, Eddie was ready to take the plunge. 
He was ready to try and figure out his path of redemption from being the asshole you (rightfully so) hate to someone you could maybe forgive and tolerate. The first step to that was supposed to be the song from the show, but fucking James ruined that. 
It was all fucked. Everything was fucked. The way Eddie was going to apologize was flipped upside down, and you both moved too quick, and now Eddie’s in way over his head— because jesus christ, Richie grilled the shit out of him this morning.
Eddie’s going to be sick.
“Anyone know what’s up with Rich this morning?” One of the crew members asks. Jeff shrugs, tossing a grape into his mouth, “Beats me. He’s always upset about something, though.”
Eddie tries to muster through the rest of breakfast, but when Richie comes back into the room without you in tow, Eddie decides he can’t sit here a moment longer with that empty chair staring at him.
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Although Eddie practically begs Richie to let him skip out of the group interview, he still finds himself walking down the hall of the hotel. The interview is being held in Richie’s suite and was originally planned to be a few days after the residency was over, but a change of plans with photoshoots in LA caused some last-minute alterations to the planned schedule.
Eddie spent the day holed up in a friend's studio. He hasn’t seen you since breakfast, and the day is almost over now, so it’s safe to say the initial shell-shock feeling of the sticky situation he’s tossed you both into has somewhat dissolved. Eddie didn’t record anything at the studio; he only wrote, and the change of scenery, with the added peace away from his friends/bandmates, gave him a more open space to figure his thoughts out. 
So, when Eddie sees you walking out of your room, he immediately knows now is his chance to do what he’s been milling about in his head all day— because when Eddie said sorry and when he spent hours fucking you into your bed to show you just how sorry he was, he meant it— and he needs to tell you that before things get misconstrued as they always do.
You’re not paying attention, too focused on sorting through the questions you’ve prepared for the band, so you’re face is riddled with shock when Eddie places a hand on your shoulder.
“I think we should maybe talk…” 
Eddie’s not sure what he expected you to say, but he sure as hell didn’t expect you to turn to him and nod, “Yeah, I think we should.” Eddie nods as well, taking a breath and opening his mouth to speak, but you’re cutting him off before he can even fully form his thoughts, “Where the fuck have you been?”
And that’s not what Eddie thought you would start with, but it’s better than he expected. “Um—” 
“I’ve been signing papers all fucking day thanks to you,” You stress, “And the only person that has any answers to the millions of questions I have is you, but you’ve been missing in action all fucking day, so what the fuck?” You snap.
Eddie’s face pinches in confusion, “Signing papers? What papers?”
You scoff, sarcastically shrugging, “I don’t know, maybe the fucking NDAs Richie piled onto me, again, because of you,” You’re tone is dripping in irritation, and Eddie only finds your disgruntled look to be cute. “Thanks for that, by the way. I don’t know how many times I have to tell you that I’m not here to ruin your life, but the last thing I want to do is tell the world all about how I was dumb enough to let you fuck me.”
You don’t exactly care that a cleaning maid is just a few doors down, but Eddie does because this is precisely how shit gets into the press. “Jesus Christ,” Eddie mutters, wrapping a hand around your arm and tugging you off into the small ice room off to the side. “Would you lower your fucking voice?” Eddie grumbles as he presses you into the open space beside the vending machine, creating some sense of secrecy from anyone passing by.
Your eyebrows furrow in annoyance as you glare at Eddie, “Why does it even matter when you’ve been practically screaming it from the rooftops?” You point out. Eddie waves a hand and squeezes his eyes shut, shaking his head in dismissal, “I didn’t tell Richie shit.” He argues.
And it’s the truth. Eddie didn’t tell Richie anything— he hasn’t told anyone anything aside from what little to the story Jeff and Gareth know. But they would never say something to Richie about it, right?
You snap Eddie from his train of thought, “Then where did you go last night, Eddie?” You ask.
And well, Eddie doesn’t think he’s ready to confess that he practically had a panic attack when he realized he likes you— like, really, really likes you. He’s not ready to admit that he spent the night at the studio, scribbling down words and mixing sounds, cutting clips of his voice, and perfecting it until he passed out from exhaustion. He’s not ready to admit that.
Eddie goes silent, gaze dark and filled with hesitance. His jaw ticks, and he replies with a snap, “It doesn’t matter.” He shifts to turn around and leave— because that’s what he does best— but you reach out to wrap a warm hand around his wrist, and Eddie— god, Eddie’s heart skips a few beats.
“If I had to sign a goddamn NDA, the least you can do is tell me where you went.”
And you’re right. God, isn’t this precisely what Eddie was just writing about? 
It’s not difficult, Eddie says to himself. Just tell her you went to the studio— maybe even offer to show her what you were working on.
Eddie thinks he would rather chew bricks.
Before Eddie can fully prepare a response, Gareth pokes his head into the room, glancing between the two of you as you quickly drop Eddie’s hand. Gareth fails to hold back a grin at the scene before him, and Eddie’s shoulders stiffen from the tense situation between you that Gareth fails to catch onto. Gareth points over his shoulder, “Unless you want Richie to start flipping out from wasted time, I suggest you guys head back to the room so we can start.”
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“It’s chaotic.”
“Your known sound or the new sound?”
“Both.”
You laugh, shifting in your seat as you twirl your pen between your fingers. Jeff expands on Gareth’s comment, “I would say our past music is chaotic in general, but the newer stuff we have coming is more of an… orchestrated chaos.”
Gareth snorts at Jeff’s answer and mumbles something along the lines of melodrama before Eddie pitches in, “There’s more of a structure to this record. Our past albums have been like… multiple stories in one, and it can be overwhelming, but it’s also exciting because you never know where you’re going next,” Eddie talks with his hands, jewelry clinking with each wave as he glances at you, “And I think this album still has that type of excitement, but it’s more… interconnected. Like there’s bits and pieces of every track within the next one, and it’s just… it’s a fuller experience.” 
It’s beautiful— how Eddie thinks and speaks and forms his thoughts about music. It’s so captivating that you could spend forever listening to him talk about music. Gareth is saying something, but you’re hardly listening because you can feel Eddie’s gaze on you, and it makes every hair on your body stand. 
When you finish writing a note, you clear your throat before glancing back up at the boys as if your heart isn’t beating out of your chest. “In relation to this topic, do any of you have a specific idea or sound you’d like to explore in the future, maybe?”
Jeff hums, “I grew up listening to a ton of Janis Joplin— and shit like Jimi Hendrix— so I've always had a love for that kind of clash between rock and blues. So, maybe something along those lines." It's utterly off-track from what Corroded Coffin sings, but Jeff, you've come to learn, is the most mellow of the group, so you're not as surprised as most would be.
The boys each answer the question, eventually blending into each other to create one extensive conversation. You ask them what they plan to do when they’re old enough to retire. Gareth wants to venture into the art world; unbeknownst to you, he’s had a knack for art since middle school. Jeff wants to do something with producing, and right before Eddie gets the chance to answer, Richie steps in, clearing his throat and reminding you of the time. 
You seem to have lost track of time in your conversation. The boys have a line of press interviews today, but you have more than enough content to complete the article. You thank the boys for giving their time and being compliant, and as you file out of the room, Gareth turns to you, “Are you coming to the dinner tonight?” He asks. Your eyebrows furrow in confusion, “Dinner?”
Jeff steps up beside you, slinging an arm over your shoulder as you all step into the hallway, “Of course, she’s coming to the dinner, dumbass; it’s for the entire crew.” He flicks at Gareth’s shoulder. Gareth bats at Jeff’s hand, “Sorry, I didn’t know if that included journalists.” He bites back with a light shove to Jeff’s shoulder. 
“I’m afraid I don’t know this dinner you’re talking about.” You chip in. Gareth and Jeff glance at each other before Jeff clears his throat, “Uh— Eddie didn’t tell you?”
Of fucking course, it reflects to Eddie. You shake your head, glancing around the hall, only to see that Eddie is nowhere to be seen. Jeff nods, removing his arm from your shoulder and shrugging, “Well, there’s a dinner tonight, and we have some family and friends coming in from Hawkins, so you’re obviously invited regardless of Eddie’s lack of communication skills.” Jeff jokingly concludes. You nod with a small smile, “I’ll most likely be working through this,” You raise your journal, “But I hope all goes well.”
You don’t stick around to see the looks Gareth and Jeff exchange because you’re too busy trying not to be bothered by the fact that Eddie purposely didn’t tell you about the dinner. But then again, can you blame Eddie? You’ve only known each other for a month, and that entire month has been full of mixed feelings, arguments, and selfish kisses. 
Still, you find yourself feeling estranged and saddened— because, despite your complicated relationship, if the roles were reversed, you know you would’ve extended the invitation.
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Eddie glances over himself in the mirror for what seems like the millionth time.
It’s stupid, the nerves coursing through his veins, but then again, what Eddie’s about to do could potentially put him on his ass if it goes wrong. Wrong, meaning you say no, curse him out, and tell him to fuck off for the rest of his life. He’d deserve it, sure, but that doesn’t mean it would lessen the sting either way.
There’s a cassette tape in his hand as he walks up to your room, 403, the numbers that seem to be engraved in his mind at this point. He taps the thick band of his ring against the clear case of the tape, teeth digging into his cheek as he knocks on your door.
The silence is deafening as he waits, and Eddie debates if he should just make a run for it before he makes a fool of himself, but then you open the door. And you’re so pretty, and Eddie’s fingers tighten around the tape for a split moment to ground himself because— fuck, what does he say? Why is he here again?
You’re staring at him with a blank gaze, bored and intimidating enough to have Eddie wishing the floor would open up and swallow him whole.
Eddie clears his throat and shifts in his spot, “Are you busy?” You blink, glancing down at the tape in his hand before looking back at him. “Why?”
Well, there’s no going back, Eddie thinks. He raises the tape into your view, “I just need an hour. Just one hour so I can explain.”
You raise an eyebrow, leaning against the door, and boredly blink, “Explain what?”
Eddie shrugs, heart racing in his chest as he subtly shakes his head, “Everything.”
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Eddie didn’t think you would say yes.
Honestly speaking, Eddie thinks you’re slightly insane for saying yes, but he doesn’t take it for granted— because now, Eddie is walking down Barclay St with you right beside him. It’s busy now that everybody’s 9-5 shift has ended, and there’s a slight breeze kicking in as you trek through the sea of people. 
You’re dressed in sneakers, jeans, and a light sweater to keep you warm— and Eddie thinks it’s adorable how the sleeves drape over your hands and how you fuss over it occasionally.
Transit is quicker to where Eddie is taking you, and the subway is always crowded and hectic, so Eddie doesn’t think about it when he grabs your hand as you trot down the subway steps. Your hand is warm and soft beneath his palm, and it feels so natural when you shift your thumb across the back of his hand, trying to keep up with his far strides.
Somebody bumps into you, and Eddie instinctively pulls you closer to him, gazing down at you as he asks if you’re okay. You nod, and Eddie squeezes your hand before continuing on the path to the train.
When you and Eddie get settled on the train, Eddie thinks you might hold onto his hand for the entire ride, but he’s sadly mistaken when you slip from his hold to fold your hands in your lap.
Eddie ignores the pang in his chest.
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Eddie has dragged you all the way to Manhattan to stick you in a booth near the back of an old diner called Keens Steakhouse. You’ve never been here, but you’ve heard of it in passing; however, you wish Eddie had told you to wear something nicer instead of this oversized blanket of a sweater you have on.
Eddie is wearing jeans, a shirt, and a leather jacket, so you didn’t think much about what to wear— but that’s Eddie. Eddie Munson, the famous rockstar. Why would he care about the clothes he wears to some diner he’s probably eaten at a million times before?
The diner has dim lighting, but the tables are well-lit with a candle. Your waiter hands you two menus and a bottle before leaving you both to scan over the food items. You don’t bother to open your menu, watching Eddie fill your glasses with a rich wine. Eddie glances at you before clearing his throat, “The chef makes a mean filet mignon, by the way,” He begins as he sets the bottle aside, “And I’m not a big seafood person, but the shrimp is good.”
You say nothing, waiting for Eddie to stop beating around the bush and tell you why he made you trek across the city for wine. He glances at you, faltering for a split moment as he speaks, “We can change tables if you—” You shake your head with a wave of your hand, “It’s not that, Eddie, it’s just—” You huff, “Why are we here? Like, why did you bring me here?”
Eddie shifts in his seat and clears his throat, tapping his finger against the table once before taking a slow breath, “I think… I think it’s best if I explain my side of things before shit spins out of control.” He’s struggling to start, but the words slip from you before you can stop it, “You don’t think it’s too late for that?”
Eddie’s eyes are soft and pleading when he glances at you, pretty lips tucking between his lips as he shrugs, “I was hoping not…”
God, it’s weird seeing Eddie like this— teetering on the edge of vulnerability as he practically begs you to hear him out— if you weren’t so keen on hearing if he has something genuine to say, then you would’ve left a long time ago for the sake of his sanity.
Because you’re selfish and hope to hear something good, you nod, encouraging him to continue.
Eddie fidgets with the rings on his fingers as he begins to speak, “First things first, I just wanna get this out of the way,” He gazes at you, “I didn’t tell Richie anything. If anything, my guess would be someone from the crew told him, but I won’t list off any names.” He waves off.
You know he means James because who else would Eddie be talking about? But even though you strongly feel it wasn’t James, you don’t counteract Eddie’s silent claim. However, you’re not strong enough to hold back a quick roll of your eyes.
“And secondly… about last night.” He falters, and you take a deep breath before shifting in your seat. “It’s fine if you regret it, Eddie. You didn’t need to drag me here to say that; we can just forget it ever happened.”
You’re unsure if that’s what Eddie wanted to say, but you would rather be the first to call it out to save whatever dignity you have left. But Eddie quickly shakes his head, brown eyes wide and soft as he squashes that idea, “No! No, I don’t regret last night at all. I— that’s not why I brought you here.” And Eddie looks at you like he won’t ever get a chance to fix what he destroyed.
A steady exhale and the curling of his fingers into his palm, and you wish you were closer to him, even if he’s done nothing but push you away. You want to feel him. And sure, the flicker of his gaze down to your hand might imply that he wants the same, but you drop your hands to lay in your lap instead of the table, willing him to continue talking.
He clears his throat, “I shouldn’t have left— and honestly, I didn’t even want to leave,” His admission has your head ticking in confusion, “I wanted to stay with you, and I wanted—” He takes a breath, earth soaked eyes locking onto yours, “I left because I knew I didn’t deserve to stay.”
Well fuck, your heart is practically the wings of a hummingbird in your chest. It’s the most open Eddie has ever been with you aside from the time you shared alone in the dressing room, except now you are finally facing the truth of what is unfolding between you. 
Wayne’s words spin in your mind for a split moment, “Eddie doesn’t know what to do with nice… He hasn’t had much of that in his life.”
And you wonder why? What happened to create the beautiful mess sitting before you, waving his torn and stained white flag, calling off his troops to meet you in no man's land? And there’s a vast field behind Eddie that you have yet to discover, and there’s the same behind you, patiently waiting for whoever is willing to take the time and map out the intricate paths and valleys. You selfishly want it to be the man in front of you.
“I don’t know how to treat the people who selflessly care for me. I never got that, and it’s weird and new to me, and I didn’t understand how you could do that for— not just me, but practically everyone you meet. But I want to learn how to.”
It’s dizzying, really. The complete 180 Eddie has seemingly made— and is it wrong for you to hesitate to believe him? Is it wrong that you’re still unsure even though Eddie looks like he wants to practically crawl out of his skin? Because Eddie is so far from home, and it doesn’t even take years of knowing him to see that.
You shift your gaze to the table, sinking further into your seat as you tilt your head, and there’s an echo of how you felt last night that rings in your chest as you ask, “Where did you go, Eddie?”
Eddie is so pretty under candlelight. He’s defined and soft, and his hair looks like a golden mane when it catches the light. His eyes, always big and brown with honey-soaked pools of curiosity, they’re softer than they’ve ever been before. His bottom lip is tucked between his teeth and tortured with the jagged crowns of his teeth as he silently stresses. 
“I went to the studio.” He finally admits.
And you can’t seem to think of a single reason why Eddie would ever be this nervous to tell you he went to the studio— that’s his job, is it not?
Eddie shifts in his seat to reach into his jacket pocket to pull something out. “I brought you here so I could—” “Excuse me, Mr. Munson.” A waiter interrupts.
Eddie pauses, both of you turning your attention to the pristine man in black. The waiter clasps their hands behind their back, leaning forward as they speak, “Sorry to interrupt, but there’s a group up front claiming to be a part of your reservations. I didn’t see any more seats on the list, but they insisted I check with you.”
Eddie shoves whatever is in his hand back into his pocket as he looks over his shoulder, your gaze following his eyes as he curses. You can’t see much from your seat, so you’re riddled with confusion when Eddie grumbles something to himself as he turns back to the waiter, “Yeah, they’re my friends; send them over.”
The waiter nods and walks off as you send a look of confusion towards Eddie, “I thought there was a dinner tonight? Which, speaking of, why aren’t you there?” Eddie freezes at the question, “You know about the dinner?”
You nod, “Jeff and Gareth told me. Thanks for the invitation, by the way.” You grumble as Eddie stands up. Eddie curses, turning to you and holding an index finger, “To be fair, I wasn’t planning on going.” You raise an unconvinced eyebrow as Eddie turns around and cheers, stepping forward to hug who had expected to be Jeff or Gareth.
However, neither Jeff nor Gareth have light brown, wavy, shoulder-length hair.
It’s a woman, a pretty one with sunkissed freckles dotted all around her face. Behind her, and next to hug Eddie, is a man; soft, brown wisps of healthy hair long enough to kiss the tips of his ears. He catches your eyes over Eddie’s shoulder, and you find that he and Eddie share the same eye color.
Last to hug Eddie is another woman, kind-looking and just as pretty as the first, and with the curly strands that bounce along her shoulders, you might’ve guessed she and Eddie were related somehow.
The first girl peeks over Eddie’s shoulder and smiles, “Who’s this?” She squeaks, “Oh fuck, are we interrupting something? Steve— god, I told Steve we should’ve just waited to see you at the hotel.” The boy, Steve, you suppose, turns to the girl with an annoyed look as they start to bicker lightly. Eddie waves his hands to disperse the small moment, “As happy as I am to see you assholes, we actually were in the middle of something.” Eddie sarcastically smiles.
You roll your eyes and smile as you stand from the booth, “No, no, don’t worry about it.” You assure her as you step forward, placing a hand on Eddie’s shoulder to make room for yourself as you extend a hand in greeting. You tell her your name, and she smiles, “I’m Robin!” She responds. She gestures to the man, “This is Steve,” Steve waves, “And this is Nancy.” Nancy waves and smiles.
“We’re old friends from high school.” Nancy clears up the confusion.
And then it suddenly makes sense. Eddie had mentioned something about his tight-knit group of friends from Hawkins. He didn’t go in-depth on who was who, but you now realize why Robin had sounded like such a familiar name.
You beam at them as the pieces come together, “Oh! Nice to meet you; Eddie’s mentioned you all before,” You respond, “It’s nice to put faces to the names finally.” 
Steve awes at that and slaps a hand onto Eddie’s shoulder, “You’ve been talking about us? How sweet of you.” He jokingly teases, squeezing at the dip of Eddie’s shoulder and neck. Eddie bats him away with a ghost of a smile, and you smile, enjoying the look of familiar joy on Eddie’s face.
Eddie ushers you all to sit in the booth— and you don’t ignore the fact that he slides in right beside you. Robin and Nancy sit on the other side, and Steve squeezes in last despite Robin’s protests and grumbles about him having wide shoulders. Eddie sighs, hands fidgeting on the table as he speaks, “What are you guys doing here? I thought you were going to the dinner with the band.” He asks.
Steve scoffs as Nancy snickers, and Robin rolls her eyes, “Yeah, that was the plan,” Robin responds. “But these two,” She gestures between Nancy and Steve, “Didn’t want to dress for it. Jeff told us where you were, by the way.”
Eddie rolls his eyes at the mention of Jeff and his traitorous behavior.
Steve glances around the restaurant, and you catch Nancy’s eyes, sharing a quick, welcoming smile with one another. “Yeah, so can we, like, get out of here?” Steve asks in a bored manner before reaching over to grasp Eddie’s forgotten glass of wine. Eddie flicks Steve’s hand, and Nancy speaks up from the corner of the booth, “Do either of you know a place with good drinks?”
Eddie looks beyond bothered by how his friends crashed your short-lived dinner, so you answer, “There’s a karaoke bar down the street; they have a good happy hour, too.” You shrug. Steve and Robin perk up at the mention of karaoke, and Nancy groans, “God, don’t get these two started on karaoke. They don’t stop.” She complains.
Steve shrugs and slides out of the booth, “Too bad, we’re going.” He tugs his friends out of the booth. With the small window of no attention on you or Eddie, Eddie turns to you, “I’m sorry.” He motions toward his friends. You smile and shake your head, “That’s okay.”
Eddie leans in, and your heart skips a beat. You’re shocked when Eddie’s cool fingers brush against yours beneath the table and slip something into your hand, “This is what I brought you here for.” He softly says.
You glance beneath the table to see the clear cassette tape that Eddie had when you opened your door. You glance back at him, confusion riddled on your features, “What’s this?” You ask. Eddie’s gaze flickers to your lips before locking back on your eyes, “My apology.”
His apology?
Your mind reels for a few moments until you remember what Eddie had said yesterday, “I said sorry. An actual apology, I did it, and you weren’t fucking there to hear it.”
Before you can respond, Steve clasps a hand over Eddie’s shoulder, grabbing both of your attention, “Let’s go, man; I’m gonna battle you in a sing-off.” Behind Steve, Nancy and Robin stand hand in hand, Robin impatiently waving for you and Eddie to get up.
Mind reeling with a mix of emotions; you barely have enough time to shove the tape in your bag before Eddie drags you out of the booth.
With the tape practically burning a hole through your side and your mind telling you to slow down, your heart flutters in your chest as you allow yourself to weave your fingers through Eddie’s.
And when you see the small smile that grazes across Eddie’s lips, you decide to let yourself have this moment, even if you’re still wary of Eddie’s true intentions.
And once again, for the second night in a row, you find yourself in Eddie’s trap.
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part ten
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a/n: HIIII, you made it to the end !!! look at them evolving :') we're almost to the end friends, hang in there w me i beg !! i hope u enjoyed, and as always, i love love love reading any and all feedback as well as ur silly thots <3 TY FOR READING I LOVE U VERY BIG MWAHHH <3
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After a couple weeks of being depressed I feel good as fuck and hot as fuck 😘✌🏼 that's the vibe I want this year 😌 ashnikko never fails to hype me up
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gasdancer · 1 year
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Chapters: 6/? Fandom: Last Shadow Puppets, Arctic Monkeys Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Miles Kane/Alex Turner Characters: Miles Kane, Alex Turner (Musician), Alexa Chung Additional Tags: humbug, SIAS, COTT, Canon Compliant, Angst, just picking up where we left off you know the drill by now Series: Part 3 of Young Volcanoes Summary:
"We wrote a couple of tunes together." "Like friends do?" "Just like friends do indeed! Some friends..."
New chapter is up!!
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kithtaehyung · 29 days
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Hey Ryen!! I just wanna say that broken pt 2 was a BLAST and now I’m super excited for minted too!!
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AHHH thank you, babe🥺🤍🤍 i’m glad you enjoyed! minted is gonna be uhhhhh different and fun as hell LMAO
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