#first impressions of earth tour
Text
julian casablancas at the 02 wireless festival, 2006.
#julian casablancas#2006#first impressions of earth tour#dreamy#his prime#rockstar#handsome af#best outfit#the strokes
88 notes
·
View notes
Text
Eat Me
Pairing: Older!Rockstar!Eddie Munson x Popstar!Reader
Summary: (TLDR: you perform with Corroded Coffin, act like a brat the whole time, and Eddie makes you pay for it.) Two years after your hiatus from the music industry, you're back and all grown up now. After collaborating with early 2000's metal sensation Corroded Coffin for several songs off your new album, you debut the new tracks live in a surprise performance with the band during their tour- and the tension between you and frontman Eddie Munson is so thick, you're barely able to keep your pants on throughout the set. (Songs referenced are by Demi Lovato from her album HOLY FVCK, which inspired this fic. I highly suggest listening to the songs "Eat Me" and "Freak" while they're performed in the story for the complete experience!)
Word Count: 14K
Tags: 🔥SMUT, age gap (reader is 27, Eddie is 47), Reader is a brat (Eddie can handle it), fingering, squirting, p in v sex, unprotected sex (wrap up!!), light degradation, reader has blue hair, reader is a grown-up child star, for the purposes of this fic Corroded Coffin started in the 90s instead of 80s for timeline reasons
🖤🖤🖤
You had no fucking clue what you were doing.
It had been two years since you’d put out music. Two. Years. That’s enough time for a person’s relevance to crawl into a hole and die, which is something you had been strongly considering doing for the duration of those two years.
It was a tale as old as time- child star grows up. Child star is not a child anymore, but the world only wants the star to be a child, so if the star wants to keep being a star, they do not. grow. up.
But you grew up, and guess what happened?
The world hated you for it.
So you stopped trying to be a star. You’d dropped off the face of the earth and deleted every social media app from your phone. You’d bought a house in the mountains, and thanks to modern technologies like Amazon and DoorDash, you basically never had to leave. It was a little scary how easily you had become a hermit living in a cabin in the woods. Your life quickly became a never ending cycle of reading, binge-watching tv, and dying/cutting your hair whenever the mood struck (The latest spontaneous color change had left you with a surprisingly pretty shade of faded blue).
It was easy, running away… until it caught up with you.
After all, at your core you had always been a performer. From your first audition at five years old to your big break at twelve, to the first album you’d put out on your television network’s record label- you had always been a person who had something to say and craved an audience to hear it. When your audience had turned on you, it had jolted your rhythm enough that you forgot the words to a song you’d been singing as long as you could remember.
It had taken you a couple years, but eventually you figured out that when you play the same song on repeat for long enough, it gets old.
So you wrote a new song.
To be more precise, you wrote a whole album. Literally.
Some of the songs were composed, some still needed a tune, but the message of the album was clear: I’m not that little girl on your TV screen anymore. You don’t have to like it, but you sure as hell can’t change it.
The minute you’d figured that out, you’d called your team. Once they understood the direction your career was headed, they helped get everything in order for your re-entry into the fray that had driven you out in the first place.
There was only one part of the album that made you nervous.
I know two years doesn’t seem like that long, your agent had said, but the public eye doesn’t have a very impressive attention span. You only have half of the album composed, right? This is the perfect opportunity to make the other half of the songs collaborations with artists that are in the public eye!
The idea made sense. Their popularity helps you, and if the songs go over well, then it helps the other artists too. The only issue was that these songs were way more vulnerable than what you used to write… hell, half the songs you’d recorded before your hiatus were written by whatever run of the mill joe schmo had gotten the kid-friendly execs’ stamp of approval. Even when you’d split from the network after turning twenty-three, you’d kept your songs strictly PG-rated since you knew the majority of your audience were minors. These new songs, though…
You weren’t an idiot. The themes of these songs were not subtle. Anyone who listened to these new songs was going to see a side of you that wasn’t all that pretty. Were you ready for that? Were you ready to bare that darkness to not only the world, but to other artists who meant to help you make music out of it?
Your anxiety about the album had gotten even worse when your agent had given you the list of potential collaborators.
One song that you were particularly proud of called “Eat Me” had some very metal undertones to it, so you’d told your agent that you’d like to collaborate with a metal band or artist to compose the music that would match the lyrics. Almost immediately, your agent had suggested a collaboration with Corroded Coffin.
The band had been HUGE when you were a kid, topping charts throughout your childhood and making a name for themselves as one of the most culturally relevant turn-of-the-century metal bands. Even now, they were a household name. Your older brother had been a huge fan, so you’d actually listened to their music quite a lot growing up. They weren’t some random collaboration- if Corroded Coffin read your lyrics (which were basically your soul laid out on display) and thought they were shit? It might just send you spiraling right back to your cabin in the mountains.
You had been equal parts thrilled and terrified when your agent told you they’d agreed to collaborate on the song.
Currently, you were sitting in your home-away-from-home, a cozy apartment that you rented on a month-to-month basis whenever you needed to be in New York, which just so happened to be where Eddie Munson, lead singer/guitarist of Corroded Coffin had asked to meet with you. It was your album, so you had invited him to come to your place and discuss his ideas for the song. You shifted nervously on your couch and glanced at the time on your phone. He was ten minutes late- that shouldn’t bother you, a lot of musicians had a habit of running late. Just because you didn’t subscribe to that stereotype didn’t mean you had to judge him for doing the opposite.
When you finally heard the buzz of your doorbell, you practically hopped off the couch. You peeped through the little door viewer to catch a glimpse before you had to look one of your childhood heroes in the eye. You… you hadn’t been adequately prepared to see this.
Eddie Munson had been attractive in his hay day- you could admit that. You’d seen the pictures of him on their album covers, the press photos, the magazines… he had always been cute in a scruffy sort of way. You hadn’t bothered Googling what he looked like now, which you were currently regretting since you had not been adequately prepared for the father of all DILFs to be standing on your doorstep.
After doing some quick math, you came to the conclusion that Eddie Munson must be in his mid to late forties at this point. His hair was still long and curly and thick as hell, but you noticed other details that you distinctly remembered were not present on the album covers you remember from your brother’s CD collection- dark, whiskery shadow along his cheeks and jawline. Tattoos creeping up from the collar of the crew neck shirt he wore, as well as every inch of his arms. A nose ring. Smile lines. Soft creases forming between thick brown eyebrows.
Eyebrows drawing together in confusion because you weren’t opening the door.
Shit. You inhaled sharply and hastily made to open the door. Breathe, you instructed yourself, taking a moment to blow out a semi-relaxing breath before turning the doorknob and plastering on your best entertainment industry smile.
“Hi!” you said, a little too peppy- you knew you sounded too peppy because the rockstar in front of you actually flinched when your high-pitched sorority girl voice slapped him in the face. “Sorry, I think I’m a little caffeine-riddled, I just finished my third cup of coffee.” You said apologetically, swinging the door open wider for him to step through the threshold into your apartment.
“Too many frappuccinos there, huh popstar?” His voice… if it hadn’t been so condescending, you might have melted on the spot. Your pride, however, had to argue with your clenching thighs.
“Uhm, no-” you laughed, keeping your voice airy as you shut the door and leaned back on it to ensure it was closed. “-just cold brew, rockstar.” You couldn’t help but add that quip at the end, seeing how he had just called you popstar like it was the same as calling someone a pussy or a wimp. What was his deal?
He looked at you with a raised eyebrow, arms crossed over his chest, and then turned back as if you hadn’t said anything at all. He simply sauntered through the hallway to your living room, where you had laid all the necessary materials for your composing process across the coffee table- but he wasn’t looking at that. He seemed to be inspecting your walls, the decor, the old pictures that sat in frames on your floating shelves, the records you had displayed above your turntable. His eyes surveyed everything like he was a judge at a fucking science fair, and your heart was starting to race as you started to irrationally wonder if you fell short of his expectations or something.
“Ahem,” you cleared your throat to get his attention.
He turned to face you, irritation flashing across his expression like a cloud blowing past the sun. You took a breath. Calm down, you chided yourself mentally, he’s probably just a prick, don’t take it personally. Be professional.
“Can I get you something to drink?” You chirped politely, to which he smirked and shook his head.
“Don’t trouble yourself, sweetheart.”
You bristled; sweetheart? Who did he think he was, Don Draper? Was this the 1950’s? Were you his fucking secretary? Your blood pressure rose by the second.
“Hm.” you respond, chewing your lip to keep a snarky response to yourself. “Well, we can go ahead and get started if you want.” You gestured to the pages strewn across the coffee table. Notebook pages with your lyrics written out in black pen, empty pages of sheet music that you planned to fill out with a melody to coincide with your words as the morning went on. Your acoustic guitar sat securely in its stand beside the couch, eagerly awaiting your hands to make the message in your music come alive.
Munson sunk into the cushions of your leather couch, manspreading enough to make you feel like a guest in your own apartment. His forearms rested on the thighs of his ripped charcoal jeans as he surveyed the pages before him. He grabbed the notebook page full of lyrics first, chuckling when he saw the title.
“Eat Me, huh?” he raised an eyebrow at you, and the way he was holding the page between the two of you left only the top half of his face visible from where you sat. You noted that Eddie Munson had extremely expressive eyes. “That’s a pretty evocative title for such a squeaky-clean ‘lil diva.”
Your brow furrowed. “That’s kind of the point.” Using your pointer finger to pull the page down, the bottom half of the rockstar’s face coming into view and spiking your blood pressure again when you saw that fucking smirk still on his face.
That’s it. This guy is an ass.
“Maybe my agent didn’t accurately portray my vision for this album,” you said, struggling to grit out the words without coming across angry. “If that’s the case, I’m very sorry we got our wires crossed.”
Ready to listen, Munson leaned back into your couch and crossed one booted foot over his knee, an arm thrown across the top of your couch cushions. The picture of nonchalance.
Cocky bastard.
“I’m not sure if you’re aware, but I haven’t put any music out in over two years.” you began. “This isn’t just a new album for me- it's more like a debut album for the new direction I want to take my career in. Up until now, I’ve been portraying a very different side of myself that…if I’m being honest, it wasn’t really me. It was childish and immature and I…”
You huffed out a heavy, frustrated sigh. “-I can’t do it anymore, I can’t keep being a kid, I’m twenty-fucking-seven years old, for god’s sake.” the rockstar’s eyebrows jumped up at hearing your expletive, obviously amused.
What the fuck? Here you were, being vulnerable with a complete stranger, and he thought it was amusing? You half expected him to laugh, but you brushed past it and decided to ignore this asshole being even more of an asshole.
“What I’m trying to say is this is a very personal album for me. It’s very different from what I’ve been putting out, and that is very much the point. Does that make sense?”
You watched as he slowly nodded his head, mulling over your words. “So…it’s like a coming of age thing?” he ventured, “Like, ‘little girl’s all grown up and sexy now’ all that?” his mouth turned up at one corner. “How very Miley Cyrus of you, sweetheart.”
You scoffed, physically recoiling a bit. “Are you being serious right now?” you balked.
He shrugged.
Oh, you fumed, that is it. Fuck this guy.
You stood from the couch, finally snapping after holding yourself back from giving this asshat a piece of your mind. “What is your problem?” Munson’s smirk faded a bit, but his smug air remained intact as he stared up at you.
“Look sweetheart-”
“No.” you cut him off, stopping him with a hand in the air. “Stop calling me sweetheart like you know me or like that isn’t a condescending fucking way to speak to someone. You have done nothing but talk down to me since you walked through that door, so no, you do not get to talk to me like that, I don’t care how famous you are.”
There wasn’t a trace of a smile on his face now, and you took pride in that. Maybe there was a conscience in there somewhere that was telling him I told you so right now.
You took the page from his hands and held it up for emphasis. “If you had just read my fucking song before making assumptions, then maybe you would have understood that this song is actually a social commentary on people like you who assume the direct trajectory of a child star’s career is to go from cute and childish to sexy ‘girls gone wild’ or whatever the fuck.” you spat, practically shaking the paper in your hand. “I’m allowed to grow into whoever I damn well please, and that’s exactly what this song is about. If I want to write a song about sex- and I’ve written a few, they’re on the fucking album- I’ll write them because that’s what I want to write! I’m not doing it for shock value or because I like attention; hell, I’ve been a literal hermit in the woods for two years, I don’t give a fuck about attention!”
You finally paused to breathe, and you knew your eyes must look absolutely insane because the man before you genuinely looked terrified.
Steeling yourself, you inhaled and exhaled slowly, attempting to push down some of that hysteria. “Sorry.” you bit, “Didn’t mean to unload all that on you. It’s just… this song is a part of me, and you just belittled it without even reading past the title.” You looked him directly in those big brown eyes and thought- hoped- for a second that you saw understanding in his gaze. “That was shitty. I’m not letting other people make me feel like shit anymore.”
When you were finished, silence took over. It settled over the room like a reprieve from a short but heavy rainfall before the sun showed itself again. Suddenly, Eddie Munson stood from your couch and marched to your door, letting himself out with a sharp click of your doorknob latching closed.
Okay. That went well. The lead singer of one of the most famous metal bands just came to your apartment, got yelled at, and ran away. You were just starting to ponder how you would explain this one to your publicist before you heard a knock at your door. Tentatively, you opened it- you didn’t need to look through the peephole to know who it was.
Eddie Munson stood at your door wearing an expression that you hadn’t seen yet today- he looked open, compassionate, and sorry. One hand in his pocket with the other outstretched, tattoos winding up the expanse of skin, rings glinting light from the sconces on either side of your door. He was offering his hand.
Smiling slightly, you accepted his gesture. You grasped his ink-scarred hand, feeling the cold metal of his rings press against your skin as you shook it. “It’s lovely to meet you-” he said your name softly, and you realized that when he had entered your apartment earlier, you hadn’t even exchanged pleasantries. Hadn’t introduced yourselves, almost as if fame got rid of the need for normal human introductions. Now, here he was, remedying that.
“It’s nice to finally meet you, Mr. Munson,” you said, voice less chipper than it had been when the two of you originally stood in these same spots. “I’m a huge fan.”
He winced at ‘Mr.’, clapping his other hand over yours tightly. “Please, for the love of god, don’t call me Mr. Munson.” his big brown eyes pleaded with you. “Call me Eddie.”
Your smile widened as you nodded. “Eddie.” you repeated. “Is this you telling me we’re starting over?”
He let go of your hand, and you felt a sudden chill as the warmth of his skin left yours. “If that’s alright with you?” he replied softly, turning up the end of his sentence like a question.
Instead of saying yes, you simply stepped back to make room for him in your hallway. With a pleasant grin on your lips, you gestured for him to step inside. “Let’s get started, then.”
After sitting down on the couch once more, Eddie took the sheet of notebook paper on which you’d scrawled a part of your soul written in verse and began to read intently. Leaving him to digest the song completely (also because you felt awkward sitting there in silence as he read your work) you left to grab two water bottles from the kitchen. When you returned, he had already grabbed a fresh sheet of notebook paper and begun jotting down notes.
You placed the bottles on coasters, bracing yourself for the criticism that you knew was coming-
“You were right.”
Huh?
You craned your neck to see what he had written on the notebook paper. “About what?”
With a mischievous glint in his eyes, Eddie yanked the paper out of your line of sight. “About this song, it’s completely different from what I’d assumed you would write. Actually,” he grinned. “-it’s kinda fucking metal.”
You smiled, once again reaching for the page. “Then let me see what you wrote-”
“I’m not finished yet, keep your panties on.”
The two of you worked for hours that afternoon, Eddie suggesting lines and chords as you wrote corresponding notes and chords on your sheet music. It didn’t take long for you to grab the acoustic guitar and begin strumming out portions of the song until it was finished.
Both of you agreed it was something to be proud of.
“Hey, uh,” Eddie stuttered before exiting your apartment that evening, when you were both happy with the work you’d done for the day. “I hope you know how sorry I am for being such an ass when I got here earlier-”
You shrugged, any traces of anger melted away at this point. “Eh.” you smirked. “You made up for it. That song might be my favorite on the album now, honestly, I meant it when I said I was a fan of yours- wouldn’t have trusted it with anyone else.”
He smiled at you warmly. “I’m honored to have such a talented fan.” The door was open, but he wasn’t leaving yet. Instead, Eddie stood with his tattooed arms crossed over his chest leaning his weight to one shoulder against the doorway. “I mean it though, you’re a talented songwriter. If you want to collaborate on any other songs, just say the word and I’m back here.”
You quirked an eyebrow. “Are you serious?”
He nodded, “Dead serious.”
Smiling excitedly, you ran to your notebook, flipping through the pages until you found what you were looking for. You looked up at Eddie, a knowing grin on your lips. “Remember those songs about sex I mentioned?”
***
The original plan for your album had been to collaborate with multiple artists for about fifty percent of your album, while the other fifty percent would only feature you. What ended up happening was slightly different.
The more songs Eddie saw, the more passionate he became about the message you were working to convey through your lyrics. He ended up reworking every single song with you in a completely collaborative process, where he never overstepped, never tried to take over- simply understood what you were trying to say and added the extra ‘oomph’ each song had been needing to truly become what you had envisioned.
“I feel like I really can’t just call this my album now, Eddie, you’ve contributed way more to this to just be credited as a featured artist-”
You’d first voiced concerns about how to credit Eddie in the album a few days into your songwriting spree. It became an easy routine, Eddie would come over first thing in the morning, and the two of you would sit in your living room working through your songs and ordering takeout until the sun set.
“Well it’s not a collaboration album with Corroded Coffin,” Eddie had replied, sticking a bite of noodles into his mouth. The two of you had been seated at your kitchen table, white boxes of Chinese food, napkins, and torn chopstick wrappers decorating the space between you. “Those fuckers haven’t even met you, they don’t get credit for anything they ain’t playing on.”
“But I’m talking about you.” you pushed, “If we keep going the way we’ve been, you’re going to be a vital part of the composition for every track on this album! I’m not going to let you avoid credit for that.” you gazed at him, unable to hide the admiration you’d begun to feel for the artist at your table. “Let me list you as a composer for every track you help me with. We already know you and your band will be featured on Eat Me and Freak, so obviously you’ll be credited for those…”
As you continued to ramble on about how Eddie would be credited for each and every song lyric he suggested, he got distracted looking at the way your hair glinted slightly different shades of blue in the sunlight that filtered in through your balcony window. His eyes followed the light along your skin, taking in the way it glistened off the dewey shine on your cheekbone, how it shone directly into the corner of your eye so that colors he had never noticed were brought to the surface of your irises…
This wasn’t the first time that Eddie had gotten distracted watching you rant about something you were passionate about. He knew he was supposed to be listening, that it was very important that he knew what your songs were about, that he understood the details of your plans for the album so that you wouldn’t have to repeat yourself later- but dammit, you were just so pretty. Really fucking pretty, it was hard for him not to get distracted. Initially, this whole collaboration had just been something that Eddie’s publicist had suggested for getting the newer generation listening to Corroded Coffin in time for their new album to drop at the end of the summerl, so when Eddie had first waltzed into your apartment he’d been expecting a kid; an innocent, teeny-bopper sort of persona. He hadn’t expected a loud, firecracker of a woman with hair the color of his old denim jacket.
Eddie wasn’t an idiot. He was well aware that he was old enough to be your father. You were what- twenty-seven? Twenty-eight? Definitely under thirty. And here he was, pushing forty-seven with a salt and pepper shadow on his jawline. The hair on his head hadn’t started graying yet (he dreaded the day that he would have to use *gulp* hair dye) but he knew it was only a matter of time. For him to be ogling you like this? It would probably make you uncomfortable if you knew how often his eyes forgot to look away when you left the room. What was that old saying? Hate to see you go, love to watch you leave-
“Eddie?”
Shit. He’d missed an entire conversation, hadn’t he?
He gave you his best apologetic smile, which didn’t work at all. You sighed, hanging your head low exasperatedly. “You didn’t hear a word of that did you?”
“Not a word, zoned out.”
You threw a fortune cookie at him.
***
You and Eddie didn’t see each other for a while after recording the album. Eddie was there with the rest of Corroded Coffin to record the two tracks that they were featured in for the album, but after that plus a few guitar parts Eddie had been kind enough to record for some other songs, the two of you hadn’t had a reason to see each other.
That was why you were so nervous for tonight.
After working all summer and the better part of the fall, the album was finally finished. Copies of CDs and special edition vinyl were already being shipped out to music stores across the country and set to hit shelves in a week, so tonight was the kickoff event for your publicity tour: you would be joining Corroded Coffin tonight onstage for a surprise performance of Eat Me and Freak. Tonight was October 31st, and premiering those songs on Halloween with the metal king that helped you make them the masterpieces they were? This was just one of those moments when the stars aligned poetically.
You looked yourself in the mirror, taking a deep breath to calm your nerves before heading to sound check. It had been a couple of months since you’d seen Eddie, but that wouldn’t matter, right? You’d spent a whole week workshopping incredibly personal- in some cases, intimately personal- songs with the guy, so singing onstage with him shouldn’t be a big deal. You were a professional, so it didn’t matter that you hadn’t performed in over two years, you could do this. Never mind the fact that this was the first performance of the rest of your career; never mind that sometimes the way Eddie looked at you make you feel like your knees were about to buckle; never mind that Eddie Munson, rock god and sex symbol of the metal world, was going to be within touching distance the moment you set foot on that stage…
A knock at the door of your tiny dressing room startled you, along with a voice letting you know that sound check was about to begin. Decisively, you grabbed your water bottle and headed to the stage before you could psych yourself out any more.
When you got to the stage, Eddie was the first person you laid eyes on. He smiled at you, dark curls flying around his face and forming a sinful-looking halo around his face as he gave you a friendly nod- god, he was gorgeous. Waving back at him, you returned the nod and grinned. You wouldn’t be going on until the end of their set, so you situated yourself on an empty stool backstage with a view of the band.
Their practice was fascinating to watch, how all four of the band members were so obviously masters of their craft, each ear trained to notice any imperfection in the way their instruments sounded through the stereos. Every once in a while, Eddie would look your way out the corner of his eye, just to check if you were still watching; you always were. Whenever he saw you looking directly at him, never glancing down at your phone or at the other band members (besides the odd look thrown in Gareth Emerson’s direction; the way his curls bounced was honestly hypnotic), he’d hold your eye contact, smirk into the microphone, and continue to belt out the lyrics to his songs with a smidge more cockiness than he had been prior.
When the time finally came for you to join them, you took a deep breath and strutted to where Eddie stood in the center of the stage. No one had handed you a mic, so you weren’t sure where you were supposed to stand until Eddie moved aside to make room for you at his mic stand.
You looked questioningly at Eddie. “You don’t need your mic?”
He chuckled, placing a hand on the small of your back as he put his lips to your ear. You figured he was just trying to avoid the mic picking up his voice, but the hand on your back… that was new. Was this a move? Was Eddie Munson making a move? On you?
Oh.
That’s a fun development.
“This one’s all you, darlin’.” Eddie said, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “I’ll stay out of your way. Also-” He pulled away enough to look you in the eyes, and your lips must have been a little too close to the mic because it picked up your fucking gasp. You jerked your head away from the mic, cursing yourself for being so nervous.
Eddie definitely noticed, but all he did was chuckle, still staring at you with giant doe eyes framed by smile lines and bushy brown eyebrows. “-it’s good to see you, popstar.” There was no condescension in his tone this time; all you could find in his gaze was kind, genuine joy that you were here, and you couldn’t help but smile back.
Confidently, you gripped the mic with both hands, smirking at Eddie through your side eye. You didn’t bother leaning away from the mic when you replied, sprinkling sultry into your voice. If Eddie Munson was trying to drop a hint, you wanted him to know you were receiving it.
“It’s good to see you too, rockstar.”
***
Mic check went flawlessly, which meant it was time for you and the band to eat in the green room while fans began lining up outside the venue, waiting for the doors to open.
You had a couple drinks with the band while biding your time before you had to get dressed for the show. Much to your delight, Eddie never left your side the whole time. You had been close to him in your living room day after day when you’d worked on your songs, but this was different; you kept noticing little glances and touches that spoke louder than words- how his hands lingered longer than expected, never missing a chance to touch your arm or place a hand on your back to guide you as you walked. How his eyes were most focused whenever he was looking at you, and he never seemed to give you passing glances- every look he gave you was intense and purposeful, it made you shiver in a very good way. When he and the band left to get ready for showtime, he took a moment to check on how you were before leaving to go to his dressing room.
“You nervous?” he asked. There wasn’t any judgment there, just concern for you.
“Yes,” you admitted, “But I think I’ve got it.”
Eddie smiled widely, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and squeezing you tightly. “Oh I know you’ve got it, angel.”
You caught his wrist, holding it to your shoulder before he could retract it. Turning to him, you batted your eyes a bit before raising an eyebrow. “Angel, huh?”
Eddie inclined his head, eyes narrowing flirtatiously. “What, should I switch back to sweetheart?”
You smirked. “Only if you wanna make me mad.”
It took everything in you not to shrink back from him as he leaned forward, practically glowering over you. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but must have decided against it. You saw his tongue poke into the inside of his cheek as he nodded to himself, eyes narrowing further as if he were having a whole conversation within his head that you weren’t privy to. Finally, he gave your shoulder a gentle squeeze and you let him go, staring at him with every ounce of confidence you could muster.
“...I’ll remember that, popstar.” he said, voice low and gravelly and sure to throw you into a coma if he said the right words with that voice at the right time. You didn’t let him see how much he was affecting you, though- save for a little grin that you couldn’t hide as he smirked at you and walked away.
When he exited the green room- and you were sure you were alone- you finally let out a breath that you’d been holding for what seemed like entire minutes. You grabbed your drink, chugging down the rest of your liquid courage in the hopes that it might also cool you down a bit.
***
The cheers from the crowd were deafening, and the gravity of what was about to happen was starting to get to you.
Corroded Coffin was about to start the song that would be your cue to join them. You stood in the wings like you had during sound check, this time fussing over your outfit to ensure every piece was in place. The fact that it was Halloween combined with the tone of your new album had influenced your wardrobe choice for the evening- ripped black jeans that were more rip than jean, a strappy black bustier top with a plethora of silver buckles that decorating the surface of your bodice where the sides attached at your sternum, fishnet fingerless gloves, and your favorite part of the outfit: the biggest platform boots you’d ever owned. You remembered seeing them and falling in love immediately with the straps that decorated the entirety of the shoe, as well as the silver buckles on each strap that matched your top like a dream. Paired with your blue hair, you looked strikingly goth and nearly unrecognizable from the girl your fans remembered.
When Eddie announced you onstage, you had to take a deep breath before joining him out there. Slow inhale, slow exhale… and then you were overtaken with hot stage lights.
Out on the stage, you could really take in the size of this crowd- it was far larger than what you were used to, and when they realized who you were, they went wild. You couldn’t help but be intimidated until you felt Eddie’s hand gently grounding you as it ghosted the skin on your back.
His lips tickled your ear as he leaned in and whispered in your ear out of range from the mic, “Knock ‘em dead, sweetheart.”
You felt a flare of indignation intertwined with delight, and you couldn’t help but laugh a little evilly into the mic at this little shit of a rockstar.
He did that on purpose.
You looked at him with the biggest smirk on your face, and it matched the smug, sultry grin on his. Silently, he nodded at the audience as if to say ‘Well? They’re waiting.’
You looked over your shoulder at Jeff on the bass, nodded, and right on cue as Jeff began the first note of the song, the entire stage was flooded with scarlet light.
***
Eddie could tell you were nervous. Flirting with you probably wasn’t helping, and for all he knew, he might even be making you uncomfortable.
However…
Over the years, Eddie’s gotten more perceptive when it came to the subtleties of body language. He didn’t miss the fact that you’d been leaning into every touch he ghosted over your skin, no matter how overt or fleeting those touches might have been. He’d seen the change in your eye contact when it lingered a little longer than necessary- that shift from attentive to intrigued, even a little wanting at times.
The only question was what you wanted, and Eddie was really hoping it was him.
As he watched you take his place at the mic, standing monochrome in scarlet light, he bit his lip as he tried to hold back the salacious grin that slid across his lips; he was unsuccessful.
Eddie hit his guitar part easily as you purred the lyrics that the two of you had slaved over into your microphone.
Be more predictable
Be less political
Not too original
Keep to tradition, but stay individual
Thrusting ever so slightly with his warlock, Eddie channeled the rage and rebellion of your lyrics into every word, smirking with the next few lines- they had been one of the first additions to the song that he’d made, and you more than did them justice.
Dirty but washable
Winning but stoppable
All that I’m hearing is
You wanna make the impossible possible
Even though you’d been nervous earlier, it looked like you’d been able to shake it all off. Confidence was rolling off you like waves, strength in your comfort onstage practically seeping out of your pores. Eddie felt proud, yes, but mostly? He was turned the fuck on by it. His eyes never left you as you carefully removed the mic from its stand and leisurely strode to the edge of the stage as you sang the next lines, punctuating the last with a little shake of your head and a comically disgusted wrinkle of your nose.
Is this what you’d all prefer?
Would you like me better if I was still her?
Did she make your mouths water?
Ugh.
Just like you’d practiced, flashing white lights littered the stage right on cue when the drums opened up the chorus, and you belted those lyrics with all the anger and exasperation that he knew you’d felt when you’d written them. You were a force to be reckoned with- this was that girl he’d met when he’d walked into your apartment acting like a jackass; this was the firecracker of a woman who wasn’t afraid to tell him exactly what she thought.
I know the part I’ve played before
I know the shit that I’ve ignored
I know the girl that you adored
She’s dead, it’s time to fucking mourn
I can’t spoon-feed you anymore
I can’t spoon-feed you anymore
Dinner’s served, it’s on the floor
I can’t spoon-feed you anymore
You dropped to a crouch, for the end of the chorus, legs bent but spread slightly, and flashing lights glinted off the metal buckles of your platform boots. Your voice ripped from your chest as you belted into the mic.
You’ll have to eat me as I am
You’ll have to eat me as I am
Eddie was incredibly grateful for the crouch you’d dropped into, because it gave him a view of your ass that was so perfect, he actually groaned. Swooned, practically. Thank god you had his mic and the music was loud enough that no one noticed. He hoped. However, anyone with eyes could probably see that he was basically undressing you with his gaze right now, so he really needed to get it together unless he wanted to be on a front page tomorrow for the wrong reasons. He cringed, imagining the headline Munson Ogles Popstar Half His Age. Mid-Life Crisis? Yeah. His publicist would love that one.
You stood back up, stalking the edge of the stage as you sang the second verse. When you were about halfway through, you turned to look over your shoulder at Eddie, and it just about knocked the breath from his lungs. Your eyes- lined in black and zeroing in on him like something out of his metalhead fantasies- smoldered like embers on the edge of a cigarette as you sang the second half of the verse to him.
Longer hair and tighter clothes
Would you like me better if I didn’t oppose?
Silver platters, pretty bows…
You were at his side now, turned sideways from the crowd so you were facing him as he turned to face you in tandem. About a foot away from each other, the only thing between you was his guitar, thankfully big enough to hide the way his hard-on was quickly growing harder with every moment you looked at him with those eyes.
Your expression shifted, eyes rolling as you threw your head back in mock boredom, amping the lines up to the extreme. As you lifted your head back up, you looked at him with the brattiest fucking face Eddie had ever seen as you delivered the final line of the verse into the mic.
…Fuck.
And then you smirked, tip of your tongue peeking out of your lips and you winked at him.
Fucking. Winked.
Ohhhhhh, you were doing this on purpose. You had to be.
And Eddie couldn’t do shit about it, because you were in the middle of a performance, on stage, jumping around in platform boots and screaming the chorus into your mic like fucking banshee. So he channeled every ounce of sexual frustration into shredding the fuck out of his guitar and staring you down, salivating at the way you blazed on that stage like a witch at the stake. Then, about halfway through that chorus, at the edge of the stage and working the crowd for all they could give you, Eddie just about had a heart attack.
Because you dropped to your fucking knees.
You let the music take control of you, screaming ‘I can’t spoon-feed you anymore’ into the mic, you dropped down to one knee followed by the other as you delivered the final lines before Eddie’s solo.
You’ll have to eat me as I am
You’ll have to eat me as I am
You held your last note long and loud, widening your knees and leaning into a backbend that didn’t stop until your upper back touched the stage behind you. Eddie was amazed that he was even able to remember his part when you were in front of him doing that. Jesus Christ.
Eddie continued to play, and he saw you crane your neck just in time to make eye contact with him as you delivered the next line of the song. You brought the mic to your lips, your knees still spread open and your spine deliciously arched.
Choke on it!
God…you were gonna kill him.
You pushed yourself back into a kneeling position, facing the audience. As Eddie’s guitar solo became more complex, and his playing more impressive, your jaw dropped as you looked to the audience and fanned yourself, as if you were all sharing a joint reaction of ‘wow, are you guys hearing this too?!’. Eyes crinkling from your smile, you brought the mic to your mouth again.
Choke on it!
Once you were back on your feet, you stood at ease in the center of the stage as you waited out Eddie’s solo. When he finished, you stared down the crowd as you delivered the last chorus. At this point, Eddie could see some of the spectators mouthing the words along with you, and his chest swelled with pride at your ability to win over a crowd that hadn’t even been expecting you on stage. Hell, knowing his fans, most of them were probably older than you by several years, and yet here they were singing your song.
When you drew your first breath after the final note, the crowd went wild. He expected you to be staring at them, soaking up the energy of a satisfied throng of fans, but no- immediately, your eyes were on him, an ear-to-ear smile stretching across your face. You had just absolutely killed your first song performed in two years, and you wanted to share your joy with him before you shared it with anyone else.
Eddie couldn’t help but mirror your smile- it was the least he could do, after the way you just made his heart swell to triple its usual size. He took a few steps over to where Jeff stood with his bass, nodding to the mic in a silent question, to which Jeff gladly stepped aside.
“If this is what happens when you take a two-year hiatus,” Eddie said slyly into the mic, “then maybe you should do it more often, rockstar.”
The crowd cheered again, and you looked caught off guard by his calling you rockstar instead of popstar. To Eddie, it made perfect sense- tonight, there was nothing pop about you. You were rock & roll incarnate, his equal in every single way. You took a few steps back until you and he were the same distance from the edge of the stage, and as long as he was speaking, your eyes never left him.
“So I’ve been working with this absolute badass on an album- well no, I’m giving myself way too much credit, she wrote an album, I plucked a few guitar strings, yada yada yada-” You giggled as Eddie reminded the crowd of your name, loud and clear, so they knew who to look up on Spotify later. “-anyway, her album drops in a week, that last song you heard was called…”
Eddie looked at you with expectant eyes and a devilish smile. He wanted to hear you say it. Just for fun. He enjoyed being a little shit.
You smirked into your mic. “Eat Me.”
The crowd cheered again, all it took was hearing you say two little words. Eddie knew the feeling.
“We’ve got one more before our lovely guest has to leave the stage, and this one is my personal favorite off the album.” Eddie started warming up with a couple chords from the song before adding, “This is Freak.”
You had replaced the mic into its stand at center stage, which was where Eddie headed to meet you. During sound check, you had asked him if he would need his own mic for this one, but Eddie- selfishly- had said it was no problem, and he didn’t mind sharing. That was a drastic understatement though, since he would happily leap at any excuse to have his lips close to yours in any capacity at all.
You smiled at him, and you were doing that thing again- that thing where you looked at him like you were giving him a dare. That thing where you touched the tip of your tongue to your upper lip.
Eddie wanted to bite that lip.
Instead, he smoldered down at you as he began the opening chords to Freak.
***
You may not have been sure about Eddie’s feelings before tonight, but you were now.
He wanted you. Bad. So bad, you felt high off the lust that was rolling off the man beside you.
You could tell by the way he was looking at you that he wanted to do so many things to you here and now, but due to the giant crowd before you that wasn’t an option. The power trip of knowing that every move you made was driving him crazy and he couldn’t do shit about it made you feel bratty as fuck, and you channeled every ounce of that into each word of your next song.
Pinch me, singe me, inch me to the edge
Your eyes fluttered shut as you let the sultry lyrics take over, arms bending as you brought them up to dance above your head as you stretched your neck back. Your pose mimicked the way you might have stretched across a bed, arching your back slightly in a way that you knew would make Eddie’s mind wander to all the right places.
Prod me, laud me, ungodly but heaven-sent
As the tempo picked up for the bridge, your lips brushed the mic and you bounced slightly to the beat. Looking up at Eddie, you felt your chest tighten when you saw how blown his pupils were as they zeroed in on you. There was nothing silly or flirty in his gaze now- this was lust, want, need… it was predatory in a way that made you shiver.
Get your tickets to the freak show, baby
Step right up to watch the freak go crazy.
Eddie’s guitar launched into the chorus with you, both of your mouths breaking your little standoff by smiling because you couldn’t help yourselves- performing together, this close, singing lyrics that the two of you connected with- you were having so much fun.
Am what I am and what I am is a piece of meat
Take a bite just to watch me bleed
Freak
Say what you want and what you want is behind your teeth
Ain’t gotta spell it out for me
Freak
Now Eddie’s lips were the ones on the mic, his throaty voice tearing through the air in a way that made you stop short from its power alone. He sang the first two lines on his own-
Bait me, you can cage me
Even plate me, I don’t care
You joined him for the bridge on one side of the mic while his mouth remained in place at the other, and his voice dropped down to his chest to create a sound that was more growl than song. He sounded demonic, feral- damn, you wanted to jump his bones right now.
Get your tickets to the freak show, baby
Step right up to watch the freaks go crazy
As you both sang the chorus together this time, your eye contact across the microphone was charged with feelings reflected as though you were looking in a mirror. Anticipation for what would happen after this show was building with every lyric, and as he growled his lines into the mic you wondered what the headline would be if you stuck your tongue down his throat right now.
Unfortunately, that wasn’t how you wanted to start this next leg of your career- at least publicly. Different time, different place. Like, say, in about thirty minutes. In your dressing room. Against a wall, preferably.
When you finished the chorus, Eddie shredded through his guitar solo like a bat out of hell, even improvised a scream into the mic that made your jaw drop yet again. Upon hearing it, you couldn’t help but let out a surprised laugh, hopping up and down in your platform boots and headbanging along with him. After he’d finished, you took hold of the mic stand with both hands and began chanting repeating lines that would take you through to the next chorus before ending the song.
Came from the trauma, stayed for the drama
You sang the line twice before Eddie joined you for the third and fourth repetition, that deep, ripping croon tearing its way through his throat and out of his plush pink lips less than an inch from yours. You wanted to turn your head and look at him so badly, but you were so close that you’d be locking lips if you did.
As you both sang the final chorus, you pulled back just enough for your gazes to meet; you were rewarded with lust blown umber eyes, sweat-soaked curls framing a face as timeless as music itself, and a grin that sparked pure joy in your very soul.
If this guy can fuck, you might just fall for him.
Eddie prompted the audience to cheer for you one more time after the song was over, shooting you a smile as he brought you in for a friendly hug. He was in front of thousands; you knew his hands would remain in strictly G-rated areas (unfortunately), but he did whisper in your ear out of range from the mic.
“Wait for me in your dressing room.”
Bingo.
You thought about following his lead- waiting patiently in your dressing room for him to finish up his show then have his way with you- but you had a better idea. You tilted your head up quickly to bring your lips up to his ear, your clear lip gloss catching its shell.
“I’m gonna keep watching you in the wings- you can do whatever you want after that.”
Your eyes met as you pulled away, and you let yourself revel for a moment at the way he looked at you- like he wanted to, well…eat you. Eyes so dark they were almost black under the stage lights, he shook his head slightly in disbelief. Again, you felt that familiar rush of adrenaline from driving him crazy when he couldn’t do a fucking thing about it; you were beginning to think you might be addicted.
As Corroded Coffin finished their set, you stayed offstage and did exactly what you said you would- you watched Eddie every second. You were like a sponge soaking up every flip of his hair, every deft movement of his fingers as they flew across the frets of his guitar. Every once in a while, his eyes would flick to where you stood, checking to see if you were still there, which of course you were. Each time he saw you, you watched as he shook his head again, or rolled his eyes, or- in one case which almost resulted in you melting into a puddle on the floor- maintaining eye contact as he belted out lyrics to songs he wrote, with a gaze so smoldering it felt as if there were no one in the whole arena but the two of you. With every minute, every note, every song- you felt him spinning a web around you like a spider trapping its prey, and you willingly anticipated the moment he would finally storm off the stage and drink you dry.
And that’s exactly what he did.
The last song ended, and Eddie wasted no time in ripping his guitar from his torso, handing it to a roadie without a second glance and grabbing you by the hand. You didn’t protest as he pulled you into a corner backstage away from any prying eyes. Before you could think a coherent thought besides Wow, I’m wet, Eddie took both your wrists in his strong, ring-dappled hands and slammed them above your head against the wall. His eyes, black with lust and wolfishly hungry, bored into yours as he used the last ounce of restraint to hold himself back long enough to ask the vital question, “Tell me, you want this?”
He bit the words out; growled them into your face as your eyes widened, desire painting your expression a gorgeous shade of pathetic as you nodded desperately. A deep groan sounded from his chest as Eddie pressed his pelvis against yours, and you gasped at how hard he was. “Words, sweetheart, I need you to say it.”
That familiar flare of indignation in your chest mingled with the flames in your core that burned for all he had to give you. Your eyes shifted, screaming rebellion that harmonized with the submission that your body so desperately craved. The corner of your mouth quirked up in a mocking half-smile. “Fuck yes, I want it, what do you think I was bouncing around out there for-”
His lips murmured a “Fucking Christ,” as he cut your sentence short, smashing his needy mouth against your burgeoning smirk. His arms crumbled as he finally felt the release of his skin on yours, caging you in as his forearms collapsed against the wall, hands still closed around your wrists. His biceps flexed, framing your faces as he all but devoured you in a kiss that was so wanting, so possessive- it claimed you. It ruined all kisses that came before it and would ever follow it.
He was ruining you, and you committed the way his whole body covered yours and made you feel both safe and coveted to memory, imprinting it on your mind knowing that you would probably never feel this wanted ever again.
Then, just as soon as he was on you, his touch lifted away.
A needy whine escaped your lips before you could hold it back. Eddie slotted his tattooed hand into the space where your neck met your jawline, thumb caressing your skin as he smiled sweetly down at you- but his eyes were anything but sweet.
“I gotta go back out for the encore. Go take these off-” you melted into his touch as his other hand played with the buckles at the front of your top. His hand at your neck crept back, taking your chin between his thumb and the middle knuckles of his forefinger as if he were scolding a child.
“-and wait in your dressing room.”
Your eyelids were heavy, and you smirked as you opened your mouth to argue-
“And don’t fucking argue with me.”
You bit the reply into your bottom lip- you could save the brattiness for later. Just as Eddie had begun to pull away, his eyes dropped to your teeth on your lip and in half a second he was on you again.
He sucked your bottom lip into his mouth, running his tongue along the soft skin before biting down firm enough to set off your mental alarms yet soft enough that you didn’t feel any pain from it. He pulled away once more, letting your lip go with a little pop.
“Been wanting to do that all night.” Eddie said, his shit-eating grin back in full force as he winked at you and jogged back to the stage. You stayed put for a second, smiling like an idiot as you heard the roar of the crowd, imagining what Eddie must look like while he returned to the stage with lips pink and swollen from his attempt at eating you alive. No one would know why he looked out of breath and a little extra happy… but you would.
You’d never walked as fast in your life as you did in that moment, making a beeline for your dressing room, fingers already beginning to work on the buckles at your sternum.
***
When Eddie opened the door to your dressing room about ten minutes later, the gigantic grin on his face fell instantly when he saw you lounging on the couch in the same clothes you’d been wearing during sound check, sans your oversized skull sweatshirt. Your black shorts and knit tank top still showed plenty of skin, but he had explicitly told you to take off your clothes and wait for him. You were still in the mood to brat out, apparently.
You looked up at him from your phone, smiling sweetly with challenging eyes. “Hi.”
Eddie closed the door behind him, leaning against it as it shut. “Hi.” he mimicked, crossing his inked forearms over his chest. He stared at you silently, expectantly.
You raised an eyebrow, coyly pretending not to know what he was being so pissy about. “What?”
Eddie pushed off the door, walking towards you at a pace that was agonizingly slow. “You know what.”
You huffed haughtily, looking back at your phone and pretending to be more interested in your screen than the man who’d had you panting up against a wall ten minutes ago. “Well that’s a little presumptuous of you, I’m not a mind reader.”
It didn’t take Eddie long to cross the expanse of your tiny dressing room, deftly sliding the phone from your hands and placing it on a low table beside the couch. “Should’ve known you weren’t listening earlier,” Eddie tsked and shook his head in disappointment. “I know you were a little distracted back there, sweetheart, but when I told you to take your clothes off, I meant it.”
You sighed as Eddie stared down at you from where he stood, towering over you as you laid back against the couch cushions. His gaze devoured you piece by piece as it roved over your wide eyes, glossy lips- your shoulders still shining from sweat after giving your all to the stage, your chest as it rose and fell with your quickening breath.
“Well,” you purred, like a cat who knew they were the center of attention and didn’t mind it in the slightest. “You didn’t say not to put on clothes after I took the other ones off…”
As you spoke he leaned forward, placing a knee on the couch between your legs so that your heat was only inches from his thigh. His hands splayed across your rib cage, admiring the stark contrast between his ink-covered hands and your soft, cream-colored shirt. It was thin enough to see… wait, were you-?
Eddie smirked, a breathy laugh escaping through his nose as he pulled the fabric taut, confirming his suspicions that yep, you weren’t wearing a bra.
Oblivious to Eddie’s train of thought, you continued, “...if you wanted me to just wait here for you naked then you should’ve been more specif-”
Rrrrriiiiipp!
Your jaw dropped, cold air hitting your bare breasts without warning as Eddie tore your shirt open. You squealed, your shocked voice jumping up several octaves. “Eddie!” but your eyes told a different story. You were pissed, but the anger you felt was nothing compared to how fucking hot he looked after doing something as dominant and unexpected as ripping your fucking clothes off.
He raised his eyebrows, giving you a moment to push him away in case he had gone too far- but you didn’t. Instead, you narrowed your eyes up at him and crossed your arms over your bare chest, pressing your cleavage together the way you knew would drive him nuts. “That was fucking Gucci!” you pouted.
Eddie laughed, taking your crossed arms and shoving them up above your head over the arm of the couch as he mockingly imitated your high-pitched “‘That was fucking Gucci!’” he lowered himself over you, bringing his face to the hollow of your neck, and you heard him inhale the scent of you from your collarbone to your ear. He wrapped his lips around the underside of your ear and sucked, then bit, savoring your little moan at the sensation. His mouth met your ear as he growled, “Wouldn’t have happened if you’d just done as you were told, instead of being a little fucking brat.”
Eddie pulled back, sitting up on his knee that was still slotted between your legs as he cupped his hands around your naked breasts. He kneaded them, played with you like he was testing out a brand new toy. He addressed you without looking up into your eyes as he continued to paw at your chest. “You gonna be a good girl now and do what I tell you to?”
You raised your eyebrows, amused that he expected your submission so quickly. Smugly, you looked up at him through narrowed eyes, placing your hands behind your head like a pillow and sighed petulantly.
“Fucking bite me.”
His eyes snapped up at you, thick with predatory disbelief at your cheek even when he had you half naked beneath you. He’d been challenged before, sure- but at this point, when he had his woman pinned down and moaning under him, he was usually the undisputed decision-maker during sex. The smile that bloomed across his lips was devilish, almost like there was a beast within him that had been kept safely under lock and key- until you’d said that.
Eddie was on you, grabbing one breast and enveloping the nipple in a harsh suck of his lips, biting down on the little nub hard. You gasped, the sound a lewd, sharp moan that brought out a laugh in him so nefarious it gave you chills. He looked up at you with eyes alight with amusement and feral need that shook you to your core.
“Oh, baby-” he laughed, crawling up until his face hovered over yours. “-I’m gonna have some fucking fun with you.”
Taking your face in his hands, Eddie Munson kissed you like it was what he had been put on God’s green earth to do. His lips moved against yours with a beautiful mix of urgency and devotion, like you could just tell that right here, right now, there was nothing else he cared about except making sure you knew exactly how badly he wanted- needed- to make you his. He slowly lowered the rest of his body until his pelvis was flat against yours, grinding into your clothed heat and exploiting the chink in your brat armor that was the his fucking size.
You bucked your hips up into him, craving friction as you moaned into his mouth. Eddie chuckled, stroking your cheek with his thumb. “What’s the matter baby, you need something?”
You pouted against him, moving a hand to reach between the two of you and palm him through his jeans, but he knocked your hand out of the way, continuing to dry hump you to insanity. You whined as he bit your pouting lip, sucking it into his mouth before his tongue slipped into yours. It explored you, tasting you as your tongue happily let him in. You felt his hand creep down your torso, giving your abused, bitten tit a little squeeze before traveling further down to the button of your shorts.
He undid the button with ease before you registered that he was taking off your clothes after he had denied you access to do the same to him. “Hey,” you panted, reaching for him, “you first, that’s not fair. I’m nearly naked and you haven’t even taken off your shirt.”
Eddie chuckled, tilting his head to the side as he feigned confusion. “Fair?” he asked, “Since when did you want to play fair?” He reached back down to your shorts, button already undone, and gently pulled down the zipper. “You were the one out there- as you said- ‘bouncing around’-” His hands raked up your thighs until they reached the hem of your shorts and slowly tugged them down as you lifted your hips slightly so he could remove them smoothly. Eddie smirked; NOW she does what I want her to do. “-knowing full well I couldn’t do a damn thing about it… and that fucking wink-” His eyes rolled back in his head just imagining it. He groaned as he pulled your shorts from your feet and discarded them on the floor. “-what the fuck was that, huh? Trying to get a rise out of me, baby?”
You giggled, bubbly laughter floating into a breathy sigh as Eddie’s finger traced the line of your slit through your panties. “Hmmmmm, like it when you call me baby.” you hummed.
He raised an eyebrow, “Oh you do?” His finger traveled up over the fabric, and he chuckled when you bucked up into his touch as the pad of his finger passed over your clit. That finger slipped under the elastic waistband of your panties, pulling it upwards off your skin as far as it could stretch. “You’re entirely too happy right now,” he stated, matter-of-factly. He let go of the elastic, making you jump with a breathy whimper as it hit your skin with a soft sting. “I’m switching back to sweetheart.”
You whined and he laughed as he continued to play with the elastic on your panties. He stared at them, entranced, before a wolfish grin took up residence on his face. “You like these?” he asked, and you knew where this was going right away.
You rolled your eyes, shaking your head in disbelief. “How kind of you to ask this time.”
The grin grew, and he took the crotch of your panties into his fist, grabbing the fabric above it with his other hand to do the same. You ground your hips against his knuckles as they brushed your pussy, already soaked and eager for any friction you could get. “Yeah, you know what,” he voiced, as if he were simply thinking out loud. “I don’t really care if you like them or not.”
And with that, another article of clothing was ripped to shreds by Eddie Munson and his stupid, tattooed, ring-covered, sexy-as-fuck hands.
This time you couldn’t even be offended; you were just fucking feral at this point. While he was still distracted by your panties, you quickly shoved yourself up to a kneeling position, startling him enough that he moaned into the fervent kiss that crashed into his mouth. The two of you knelt on the couch cushions, hands grabbing at fabric desperately in a quest to make your skin connect at every square inch you had. Eddie allowed you to pull his shirt over his head, and the shallow breath you had left was instantly knocked from your lungs when you took in the ink that decorated his torso. Some tattoos were old and faded almost blue, while others looked newer- song lyrics, mythical creatures, hellish images adorned his skin like a tapestry that belonged in a museum- but it was here, under your hands. All for you. You couldn’t hold yourself back from bending down a little lower, sliding your tongue up his sternum over the masterpieces scarred into his skin and licking a long, broad stripe from his chest until you reached the tip of his chin. You felt him shiver, arms tightening around you after shoving the remains of your tank top over your shoulders. You started to push him back, planning to open his pants and show him what else you could do with your tongue- but Eddie wasn’t about to let you be on top after the way you’d been acting all night.
“Mm-mm, nope.” he mumbled, stepping off the couch.
“I’m just trying to suck your cock, baby. Please?” You looked up at him with your best puppy-dog eyes, widening your legs as you knelt on the couch facing him, squishing your boobs together in that way that usually got you exactly what you wanted. For some reason, Eddie was immune.
He placed his hand along your neck, thumb and forefinger squeezing just enough for him to feel your pulse. The way your eyes widened, looking up at him the same way you had when he’d shoved you up against a wall earlier- it brought a satisfied hum out of Eddie, and he loved the way he could feel your heartbeat quicken slightly. There was no hiding what you felt when his hand was wrapped around your throat.
“You like calling me baby, sweetheart?”
You gulped. He felt it, of course, and he had to hold back a laugh- you looked so cute like this. Made him want to break you just to see what you’d be like when he picked up the pieces.
Your eyes were blown wide, like a hunted fox with nowhere to run. “Is that okay? Can I call you baby?”
His face crumpled- god, you were adorable. Eddie smiled sympathetically, “Oh you can call me whatever you want, sweetheart-” His thumb moved up to your bottom lip, stroking gently before working it into your mouth; he groaned, head thrown back when he felt your soft, wet tongue swirl around his digit and coat it with your spit.
“-don’t care what you’re calling me as long as you know I own your ass tonight.”
And then you moaned- oh, you fucking moaned his name around his finger in your mouth, and his cock twitched at the way it sounded. He wanted to record that, play it on loop, put it in a fucking song, hell- anything for him to be able to listen to it again and again and again. He wanted everyone to hear it, to know it was his name on your fucking tongue.
His thumb ripped from your mouth, replaced by his middle and ring finger, delving surprisingly deep into your mouth as you gagged around them. Your tongue quickly resumed its previous motions, lapping at his thick fingers and sliding over, under, around, between them. You reveled in the taste of metal as you tongued his silver rings. You gasped when he removed his fingers before, without warning, he slid them into your weeping pussy.
Your expression was beautifully obscene, eyes wide with surprise while your mouth- glistening with spit from his fingers leaving in a rush- fallen open in a silent scream. Eddie thrust his fingers up and into you repeatedly, forcing you open wider and wider with the rapid motion.
“Actually, I changed my mind,” Eddie grit into your ear, “I don’t wanna hear anything but my goddamn name leave that pretty ‘lil mouth until I’m done with you, aright?”
You were moaning, but evidently that was still not enough to deter you from being your snarky self. “Well that’s unrealistic, I’ll probably say more than just tha- ah! Oh fuck-!”
Eddie’s pace was relentless, fingers ripping through you with a vengeance as he muttered “Bratty little slut-” spearing you over and over as you sped toward the white-hot precipice that wasn’t quite release, but certainly what Eddie intended to pull out of you.
You moaned as what felt like a dam within you suddenly gave way, flooding your inner thighs, Eddie’s hand, and the couch beneath you. Eddie smiled wide, the muscles in his arm screaming pointlessly- he wasn’t going to stop until you’d given him every last drop there was to give.
“-yeah, not so bratty when you’re squirting all over my hand, are you baby? What, are you trying to say something? Spit it out, popstar-”
The noises tumbling from your lips were anything but coherent, Eddie knew that. He just kept grinning like a kid in a candy store as you babbled sounds that might have been his name, might have been a prayer, might have just been yes, yes, yes, Eddie, god yes!
Whatever it was, it was music to his ears.
Eddie looped his arms under your knees, pulling you into a sitting position with your legs wide open. Dropping to his knees, he stared at your spread pussy, glistening with the slick he’d just wrestled from you. His hands, wet with all you’d given him, grasped your thighs firmly but gently as he looked up into your eyes. It might have been the post-orgasmic haze you were experiencing, but for a second, Eddie looked at you with nothing in his eyes but care and admiration. His gaze shone like sunlight as he looked up at you, your stomach creasing from the crunch position he'd placed you in, your breasts rising and falling with each breath- the way he stared at you made you feel like an angel.
“God, you’re fucking beautiful.” he whispered, hands squeezing your thighs affectionately. Before you could even react, his tongue was on you, lapping away at your soaked pussy. You mewled, head thrown back and spine arching as unraveled you from the inside out. He traced endless intricate shapes over your clit, your lips, your hole- thoughts flew from your brain as you let his mouth drive you fucking wild. His ministrations slowed at one point, causing you to open your eyes- you couldn’t even remember when you’d closed them- and look up at Eddie.
Upon looking up, you were blessed with the sight of Eddie Munson, close-cut beard soaked with your slick, shirtless, pantsless, and currently pulling off his black boxers to reveal a cock that made you salivate on sight.
You let your brattiness fly out the window- there would be time for more of it later, but right now you needed that cock in one of your holes and you didn’t quite care which one.
Eddie stroked himself leisurely, eyes boring down into yours the whole time. “Tell me what you want, babygirl.”
You spread your legs open wider for him. “Please.” you whined.
Eddie shook his head, disappointed, sinking to his knees again. “See, this is what I knew would happen,” he murmured, sliding a finger around your clit at a torturously slow pace. “I can’t believe you got fucked stupid already and I didn’t even have to use my cock, those were just my fingers, baby.” From the slick sounds you heard from below your line of sight, you knew that he was jerking himself off as he played with your pussy. It was enough to pull a desperate moan from your throat. He licked one flat, wet stripe from your opening to your clit before murmuring against you, “Can’t even use your words and tell me what you want, sweet girl’s been fucked too dumb to make decisions, is that right?”
You found yourself nodding ‘yes’, the dirty words flying out of his mouth in rapid succession throwing your brain into overdrive. He was right; you barely had the brain capacity to think right now, much less match his attitude with snark. All you could do was stare up at him with wide eyes, waiting for whatever he planned on doing next.
Eddie clicked his tongue, tilting his head as he looked at you pityingly. “That’s right, don’t worry baby I’ll just make all the decisions now, okay?” He rose, leaning over you as he placed a knee to your side and stroked himself, lining up his fully hard cock at your entrance. Your heartbeat quickened, excitement and anticipation building now that you knew his cock would be inside you soon. You mewled as his tip stroked your slit, up and down and up and down again… and stopping at your hole, hovering outside you.
You looked up at him desperately, only to breathe in sharply upon seeing his devilish grin paired with coal-black lust-blown eyes.
“Beg for it.”
You sighed so heavy it became a sob, frustrated and scrunching up your face like you were ready to throw a tantrum.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” you whined.
“There she is.” he murmured.
If looks could kill, your glare would have sent Eddie Munson to his deathbed. He matched it with a condescending smile that spoke volumes of the power trip he was on right now. Leaning in slightly closer, he repeated himself. “Beg, sweetheart.”
You narrowed your eyes. “No.”
Eddie shrugged, backing up just enough for his cock to leave your skin- you knew it was over from there.
“Wait!” you cried, eyebrows drawing together desperately under his cocksure gaze. Christ you didn’t want to beg, but you might not have a choice. Eddie waited patiently, stroking his cock absentmindedly as he watched you squirm below him.
You looked up at him, giving him your best ‘fuck me’ eyes. “Please fuck me Eddie.” Your voice was honey sweet, soft and submissive.
Eddie crouched down, sticking a finger in his mouth before he used it to play with your pussy, stroking circles around your clit and pumping it slowly in and out of you. “Aww, baby…” he crooned before narrowing his eyes. “-we both know you can do better than that.”
You groaned, back arching as your hands fisted frustratingly into the cushions. “Eddie, pleaaasse-”
“Try harder, sweetheart.”
“Fuck, Eddie you fucking prick, just fucking fuck me, please, I need your cock-”
Eddie smiled- that was good enough for him. “‘Atta girl.” he groaned deeply as he pushed his cock into your waiting hole, your thankful moan mingling with his.
His dick was perfect, filling you deliciously and long enough to just hit that spot beneath your clit that made your nerves go berserk. You didn’t realize how loud your moaning was until Eddie shut you up by covering your mouth with his own, swallowing down every sound you made and repaying you with noises of his own.
“God, baby- so fuckin’ tight-”
You moaned, squeezing him as his cock speared you again and again. You were so built up between your squirting earlier and Eddie’s talented tongue- you were already getting close.
As if he could read your mind, Eddie grunted out as he continued thrusting into you, “I’m nearly there already, baby, you gonna cum with me?”
You whined, nodding ‘yes’ as he pacified your mewling with his thumb. You lapped at it lewdly, covering him with a thick layer of your spit before releasing it with a pop. Eddie brought it down to your clit, working gentle circles around your bundle of nerves as his thrusting picked up the pace. You squirmed under him, chasing your release as you listened to the filth that poured from his mouth while he fucked the living shit out of you.
“Jesus, fuck, so tight- my sweet girl, gonna fucking ruin you. Gonna make you come undone on my cock, just a fucking mess, gonna cum so hard on my cock-”
That last thing he said seemed to jerk him back into reality- his eyes grew wide, snapped out of his high as he looked down at you. “Shit, I don’t have a condom…baby, I’m so sorry, shit, where should I-”
You reached down, raking your nails softly over his hips. “I’m on birth control.” you said, smiling calmly. You kicked yourself for being so eager; normally you would still insist on a condom even with your implant, but Eddie just did something to you. “You haven’t been fucking any random groupies, have you?”
Eddie huffed, his laughter strained by his fast-approaching orgasm. “You’re the first in a while, angel. Last I checked I was clean, but I can still pull out if you-”
“Inside.” you whispered, grasping his ass and pulling him deeper into you. “I trust you, Eddie, I want you to fill me.”
His movements stuttered, big brown eyes wide and watching you like you were a miracle unfolding underneath him. He was still for half a second before his thumb resumed its movements over your clit as he thrusted faster, harder than before.
“Oh fuck, you want me to fill you baby? You want my fucking cum?”
His cock speared into you as deep as it could go, Eddie’s attention to your clit driving you over the edge with relentless speed. “Yes, I want it Eddie, fuck, I’m gonna-”
“Fucking take it baby, cum on that cock.”
Eddie groaned as you clamped down on him, his seed spilling inside of you while your pussy fluttered around him. You arched your back until your face was pressed into the cushions behind you, muffling your whimpering voice as you moaned his name.
A few moments passed, the air thick with the sound of heavy breathing and the smell of sex, before Eddie slowly pulled out of your wet heat. You laid there for a moment before you felt Eddie clean his sticky spend from your thighs and ass using a tissue.
“Normally,” he said gently, “I would use a warm washcloth to do this, but we have limited options.”
You sat up as he finished, smiling up at him playfully. “That sounds nice,” you said, “maybe I shouldn’t have listened to you earlier, made you wait until you couldn’t take it anymore and just whisked me off to your place.”
Eddie sat down beside you, pulling you into his lap. He looked up at you with nothing but content sweetness in his eyes, any trace of the feral dominance from earlier gone for now. “I mean, we can still do that.”
You beamed, “Really?”
Eddie scoffed, tugging you closer. “What do you mean, ‘really’? You think I need to be desperately horny to want you in my bed?”
You felt your cheeks heat up at the mention of his bed. “I don’t know… I guess I didn’t know if you wanted this to just be a one time thing, or…” You trailed off, unsure of what Eddie’s expectations had been for what happened after.
Eddie’s eyebrows drew together, confused. “Sweetheart,” he said, his finger tracing circles on your thigh affectionately. “We can hash out details whenever you’re comfortable… but tonight? I would count myself a very lucky man if you came home with me tonight.” He touched his forehead to yours, placing a gentle kiss on the tip of your nose. “Okay?” he asked.
You looked down, suddenly shy upon hearing his honey-sweet words. You gave him a quick peck on the lips before looking him in his big brown eyes. “Okay.” you whispered.
Your eyes stayed connected, melting you until your lips met his again, kissing him sweetly as his hands worked their way to your ass, squeezing as he sighed into your kiss.
“Alright,” he grunted, playfully slapping your thigh as a signal to stand up. “Let’s get you dressed.”
You giggled. “In what? You ripped up all my clothes!” you held up the shredded panties, shaking your head in disbelief.
Eddie shrugged, stepping into his boxers. “I didn’t rip up all of them, don’t be so dramatic.” He picked up your shorts, tossing them to you. “Just go commando with the shorts and wear your sweatshirt, no one will know.”
You sighed, stepping over your torn Gucci tank top and retrieving your bra from where it sat neatly folded in a chair. Eddie looked over his shoulder at you as you began to put it on and gasped.
“You did have a bra!”
You smirked, reaching behind your back for the clasp. “Yeah… I wanted to see your face when I wasn’t wearing one.”
Eddie shook his head, smiling like an idiot as he buckled his jeans. “Unbelievable.” he chided, “Was it worth it?”
You tugged your sweatshirt over the bra, taking a few steps in Eddie’s direction until you were close enough to snake your hand around to the back of his neck and pull him down for one more kiss. When you pulled away, Eddie looked down at you entranced, blinking rapidly as if emerging from a dream. He could only describe the feeling in his chest as complete and utter euphoria.
You grinned up at him, eyes alight with adrenaline that still lingered from your performance onstage and absolute infatuation with the man before you.
“So worth it.”
#eddie munson#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson fanfic#eddie stranger things#rockstar!eddie munson#older!eddie munson#popstar!reader#inspired by demi lovato's album holy fvck#brat!reader#dom!eddie munson#rip-quizilla
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
bits I remember from John Mulaney's tour act that didn't make it into the Netflix special:
- his Natasha Lyonne impression 😔 it was much funnier than the Fred Armisen one tbh
- something to the effect of 'before my intervention everyone agreed to be nice to me in their speeches. except they all forgot to tell Nick Kroll that. and he went FIRST'
- during the 'trust doctors' bit he got sidetracked and started making a flat earth joke, he was like 'I'm not saying I believe it, but like-' and someone in the audience yelled 'BOO' and he immediately shot back 'OH FUCK YOU YOU DO NOT WALK AROUND GOING WOOOOoooooOOOO I-I-ITS A-A-A S-SPH-PHERRRREEEE' while doing this truly incredible flailing of his limbs
- 'do you know how weird it is for your baby to get mixed reviews? do you know how goddamn weird it is to announce your baby and have people go 'ehh, I liked his old work better'
- he also joked that getting divorced, getting into a new relationship and having a baby so fast was just him following the "baby steps" rules of getting clean lol
- when he was listing everything he was addicted to one of the drugs got a 'woo!' from the audience which turned into crowd work of finding out what everyone in the theater was addicted to
- he asked a teenager in the audience if he vapes and the kid said no and then his friend sitting next to him screamed 'DON'T LIE TO HIM!!!' loud enough for the whole theater to hear
-oh also there was a lot more about going back and forth with his poor accountant lol. this is all I noticed off the top of my head! wondering what was different in other tour spots?
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
spiderboy, miles morales x fem!reader
part 1! ʚɞ part 2 ʚɞ part 3 ʚɞ part 4 ʚɞ part 5
pairing: earth 1610! miles morales x reader
synopsis: you didn’t think anything of it when you bumped into miles on your first day at visions. it slowly became one of the best things to happen to you.
wc: 1.9k
warnings!: cursing
You got ready for your first day at Brooklyn Visions Academy. Your mom had decided to send you there for better "academic challenges" or whatever. You were nervous but found solace in knowing you'd already have a friend there, Zoya Hart. You’ve been friends since the third grade, absolutely inseparable.
You put on your uniform skirt and finished your makeup. New school, if you didn't make a good first impression, at least you’d look good. "Y/n hurry up! I've gotta go!" your mom called out from the kitchen. "Mommy just go! I can walk" you applied her lip gloss in the mirror. "Ah-ah, you're gonna be late. Hurry up"
You rolled your eyes spraying perfume over your body. Grabbing your backpack you shoved in your books and pencil case inside. "Wait mommy I need to fill up my water bottle" you rushed to the fridge and pressed it against the water dispenser. "Come on!" your mom yelled walking over to the door. "Wait I need my headphones!" you ran to your room to grab the earbuds sitting on the dresser, quickly scratching your cat's head "Bye Bobo" you breathed out before rushing out the door. "Baby it's school what do you need headphones for?" your mom grew irritated. "If I don't have these, I'll literally kill myself"
"Aye, I told you to stop saying that!" you both walked out the door, locking it. Getting in the passenger seat, you checked her appearance on her phone, fiddling with the nose piercing that sat on her nostril. Your blonde box braids were in two pig tails, edges laid flat. You wore a gold necklace with a pendant in the shape of a bow, you loosened the tie around your neck. "I hate this stupid ass uniform" your mom laid a smack on your thigh. "Watch your mouth!" "Ow mommy sorry!" you exclaimed rubbing your hand over your leg.
You plugged your earbuds in, listening to music until you saw the school in the distance. Your heart sped up as you took her headphones out, tucking them in her backpack. "Alright baby have a good day okay. Make me proud, I love you" your mom said giving her a kiss on the cheek. "Love you too mommy bye" you replied getting out of the car as she drove off.
You opened up your phone to Zoya's contact.
'i'm here and i'm shaking where are you??' you sent a text.
'in the principal's office'
'surprise baby i'm your tour guide :P' Zoya replied.
You felt yourself bump into another body. Looking up from your phone you saw a boy with a dazed expression on his face. The boy wore a pair of Jordan 1 bloodlines, a tiny spider-man figure on his backpack. He was about four inches taller than her and a bit lanky, his skin dark brown. His hair was a taper fade with kinky curls, his eyes were dark brown almost black shade as he stared at you.
"I'm really sorry about that" you apologized putting your hands out in front of you "Ah it's cool, no worries" he brushed off with a smile. "Um do you know where the principal's office is?" you asked looking around. "Yeah, I can show you. Are you new here?" he asked leading you down the hall to the right. "Uh-huh" "New to New York?" he asked again. "Nah my parents just thought this would be a better school". He nodded his head as they came to the front door of the main office. "It's the one on the left. I've gotta get to class though. I'm Miles by the way" he said, waiting for you to respond. "Y/n" you replied with a smile.
He walked away when you made your way to the principal. "Y/n!!" Zoya exclaimed, going to hug the girl. She had a light tan complexion, pink lips and a bright white smile. Her hair was a beautiful ginger color with her curls falling past her shoulders. Zoya was about two inches taller than you, wearing a pair of platform doc marten 8053s. Her 'Z' necklace rest on her chest along with your matching bow necklace.
"Ugh I am so glad your parents sent you here!" The man behind the desk cleared his throat, alerting the two girls of his presence. "Oh sorry, Y/n this is Mr. Hale, our principal." He reached out his hand for you to shake. "Nice to meet you, Ms. L/n". She smiled as she shook his hand "Nice to meet you too, sorry I'm late" "No matter, it's your first day, just don't let it be a frequent problem." he sat back down in his chair.
"Alright, here's your schedule, look over it while i pull up your file" he handed you a piece of paper with all of your classes for the day.
'English Language Arts 11' 8:30 AM
'Modern Us History' 9:34 AM
'Ceramics 1' 10:38 AM
'Algebra 2' 11:42 AM
'Lunch 2' 12:45 PM
'Physics' 1:19 PM
'Sociology' 2:27 PM
He gave you all the information she needed: locker number and code, teacher's names, grade expectations, your guidance counselor's name and office, etc "Alright, I'll have Miss Hart here show you around." he said as the two of you made your way to the door. "Have a good day and good luck settling into your new classes. It's only September, so I'm sure you haven't missed much." he bid goodbye.
You and Zoya got to your locker as you attempted to put the code in. "Right, left, right" Zoya instructed. The locker popped open and you sorted out your things. You saw Zoya look over her shoulder at her sister, Maya. "Aren't you supposed to be in class?" she asked the girl. "Yeah, but I don't wanna be" Maya replied giggling. "Heyy, n/n! I forgot you were coming here." Maya said hugging you. "I'm giving her a tour of the school" Maya said, opening her phone to take a quick selfie with you. "Oou can I come?" Maya chirped. "Youu have a class to go to." Maya rolled her eyes and left you two to start your tour.
Zoya intertwined her arm with yours as you walked through the school. She showed you the gym, the library, the cafeteria - all huge. She showed you the student council room, the dorm halls - which wasn't necessary since you wouldn't be staying there, they made their way over to a big window in the main hallway which overlooked a courtyard where she found people sitting outside and a teacher have a class.
"This place is so fancy, shit" you exclaimed. "Ahhh it's aight" Zoya joked. Anyways, let's get you to class." It was 8:45 now and Zoya knocked on the door of your first period. "Meet me at lunch, good luck" Zoya kissed your cheek and walked away. "Well class, we have a new student joining us, Miss Y/n L/n"
Your day went pretty normal, people were nice enough to you and you talked to a few people, making their acquaintance. The bell rung which meant it was time for you to go to lunch and finally see your friend again. You sent her a text asking her where she was sitting when you bumped into someone again. "Woah, gotta stop meeting like this" the boy said letting out a light laugh. "Yeah, my bad" you let out an awkward laugh. "You have lunch now too?" he asked you "Yeah, actually I'm waiting for my friend-" you was interrupted by a hand on your shoulder.
"Hey, I'm starving let's go in the line" Zoya said. "Oh you know Zoya?" Miles said, dapping her up. "Yup, since third grade." "Cool well see you around, preferably not bumping into you" he joked and walked away with his friend. "How do you know Miles?" you asked her as you walked over to the lunch line. "Classes, plus he knows Peter." she replied, getting a cheeseburger and fries. "Why, do you think he's cute?" she teased . "Oh he's realll cute" you giggled.
You made your way over to a table where Peter, Maya, and a girl you didn't recognize were already sitting. "Yoo, n/n how you liking the school" Peter said, as he dap you up. "It's alright, fancy as fuck though" Zoya sat down next to Peter, giving him a kiss on the cheek, while you found a seat next to Maya. "Hey, I'm Kiona" the girl you didn't recognize spoke up. "Y/n, you're so pretty by the way" you smiled at the girl. "Aww thank you, you too"
Lunch ended as you and Peter parted ways with everyone. "Physics is brutal but Mr Johnson is chill as fuck" he informed you walking into the class. Peter took his seat as Mr Johnson spoke up "Ah, Miss L/n, nice to meet you. You can take a seat back there next to Morales" he pointed to the back of the room where Miles was sitting, already looking at you. You smiled at the boy and made your way to the back. "Hey" he whispered to you . "Hi" you replied. "Didn't know we'd have this class together. Shoulda told me" "You didn't ask" you joked, opening a notebook.
The bell rung and you got your stuff together "Hey what's your next class?" Miles asked, stacking his notebooks. "Sociology" you answered, putting papers in a folder. "Ah I don't have that" he said, disappointed. "Walk you to class?" he offered. You looked around and saw that Peter already left, so might as well. "Yeah, sure".
"This isn't going to make you late is it?" you asked him. "Nah it's in the same-". All of a sudden Miles tensed up and there was a loud booming noise coming from outside. Everyone in the hall, including you and Miles ran to nearby windows to see what was going on and here was a fire emerging from a bank down the road. You looked to your side to see that Miles wasn't there anymore. Out of nowhere, spider-man swung over to the bank stopping the guys who were trying to rob it. Everyone cheered when he brought the guys out, tied up in his webs
When school ended, Zoya and Maya came up to your locker as you were packing up to go home. "Hey n/n, you going home?" Maya asked, biting into an apple. "Yeah, it would be cool if i stayed in the dorms. Buttt that's mad money spending so nah". You gave the girls a hug and made your way out the building. "Oh Y/n, you're not staying in the dorms?" Miles asked, coming from the nurse's office with a few bandaids on his face and bandage on his arm. "No, what happened to you?" you asked pointing at his face. "Tripped down the stairs on the way to seventh period". You stifled a giggle and nodded your head. "Uh you want me to walk you home?" he offered.
You furrowed her eyebrows in confusion "You don't really have to do that.." "O-oh uh I was just offering, I'm not super busy right now and didn't want you to be alone-" You put her hand out and giggled "Okay yeah you can walk me home" He smiled and skipped down the steps to join you. "Don’t you get in trouble for leaving the dorms without permission?" you asked looking up at him. "Ah sometimes but I get my way out of it"
"So what happened earlier? You disappeared when the fire happened." you asked him, finally. "Oh I had....gotten..scared" he said, looking up. "Oh..okay. That's normal I guess" "Well this is my stop" you said, walking up to the door. "I'll see you tomorrow" he said waving goodbye "See you" you said with a smile, unlocking the door.
#NIA WRITES ࿐#across the spiderverse#miles morales x reader#miles morales#spiderman#spider man: across the spider verse#miles morales 1610#earth 1610#miles morales x you#spider man x reader
503 notes
·
View notes
Text
SKZ falling for their make up artist
Pairing: skz ot8 × Black gn!reader (individually)
Genre: fluff
Request: yes! (lmk if it's like you wanted)
Warnings: Reader has braids in Hyunjin's one and is implied to paint their hair in Felix's one, mentions of food in Minho's (and food places like restaurants in Chan and Jeongin's)
A/n: I accidentally posted this one before it was ready and then I had to delete it now I am mad💀 i really need to pay attention to the things i do
Bang Chan
Ok so fun fact
He met you before knowing you were his new make up artist
He just saw you at jyp cafe looking like an angel when he decided he would make small talk with you
But luck was not on his side (or was it?) because it was golden hour and you guys were sitting near the window
What does that mean? The sun rays were all over you, making your brown skin glow and your eyes hypnotized him
Consequences? He was so focused on appreciating you that he forgot to ask for your number
You can imagine how sad he was once he realised it
But! Imagine his surprise (and happiness) when he met you at the recording of one of their mvs four days later
He made sure to ask for your number properly this time
He always makes sure he is the last you'll make up so there is no rush and he can have you all for himself for some moments
Absolutely adores how excited you look like when talking about your work
He even convinced the management crew to put you as the tour's make up artist because he needed wanted you there
Lee Know
You'd probably hate him
He just happens to be a menace to people he likes
So he might or might not wipe off and ruin pieces of the make up just so you have to retouch it
"did you make up here? And here? I think you should check or do it again yk" typa thing he'd say
Don't get him wrong, he just wants to spend a little bit of time with you
But he doesn't know how to do it without making you rethink all you life choices and pissing you off
But he also brings you food backstage to make up for it
And if you have any pets he would be like "our pets should meet each other!!"
Anything to see you outside of work
And if you're on backstage during one of the stages/recording/practices he will put 200% effort on his performance
He needs to impress you of course
Changbin
Compliments you right away
He doesn't even know your name but he is already telling you you are blessed by Aphrodite, the prettiest person to ever exist in earth and all those things
He has no shame
You know that cute couple thing people do with make up/skincare where one of them sit in the other's lap while applying the products?
Lmao him
He will not loose one single chance of having you close while you're making up him
So if you ever want to try something new like a new trend or just something that came up on your mind, he will be the first to volunteer
And if you have an account on any social media to talk about your work, he follows you and comments on every single post
Hyunjin
He's beautiful and he knows it
100% use this as an advantage
Will make eye contact with you all the time being
And will smile to you in the sweetest way possible everytime you are close to his face
Once you were making him up for the s-class mv recording but your hair kept falling in your face
So he just pushed one of the braids off your face and kept smiling and looking at you like it didn't make you malfunction in 30 different ways
Has the audacity to giggle after you're embarrassed
But try to flirt with him and suddenly he is the blushing mess
He is also such a hype man, it's so cute
If he ever publishes a pic of him on insta where you're the one who made his make up, he will praise it on the caption
Han
He didn't even know you existed until he visited Chan while the eldest was doing his make up
He was speechless when he first saw you
And he had a really serious talk with Chan concerning the reason you weren't his make up artist
The next day you were asked to add Han in your list of who you needed to make up
Totally a coincidence, it's not like he begged chan and the management crew to have you as his artist
The moment he gets to talk with you he tries to impress you
Jokes, talent, beauty, anything
If you laugh at at least one joke, his efforts will be payed off and this man is on cloud 9
Felix
You'd probably hate him pt 2.
I'm sorry but he just can't shut up lol
You're applying lipstick on him? Well, he has this urgent gossip to tell you so good luck with that lipstick
You're applying eyeshadow? Unfortunately he cannot keep his eyes closed because that would mean not looking at your eyes, and he has his priorities straight
The list goes on and on
It might be a little tough but! it's so worth it
After you're done he is ready to compliment your job and praise your skills every single time
As he should
You know how some couples match outfits? He'd like to match make up even if you're not on the dating stage yet
And maybe even match hair colour
Seungmin
The most subtle one
And your dream client
He keeps still while you're applying make up, compliments your work and is always so polite
He tries to be the first one you'll make up so after you're done with him, he can follow you around while you make up the others
Will talk to you during the process (and will take advantage of the fact the kids cannot reply because they need to be still) and will even try to help you with organising your products and handing them for you if you let him
Will try to learn a thing or two about make up on his free time because he wants to impress you
If you do artistic make up as well he would love to see your past works
Might even suggest the management to have something like that in future mvs
I.N
Doesn't move
Doesn't blink nor talk
Actually, sometimes he doesn't even breathe so you need to remind him
He will giggle and brush it off but let's be honest
He is so nervous around you
Once you notice it (trust me, you will notice. It's so obvious it hurts) you will try to small talk and this will, slowly, make him relax
Now that you guys are comfortable around each other he will initiate most of the conversations
He talks to you during breaks, he asks your opinion on his outfits and sometimes he also wants you to make him up for casual outings like going to a restaurant
Even after dating, he still gets nervous because of the proximity
#that was so fun to write about!!#let me know what you think about this#skz fluff#stray kids fluff#stray kids soft hours#stray kids soft thoughts#skz#skz x reader#skz x you#stray kids#stray kids x reader#skz headcanons#skz drabbles#stray kids drabbles#skz imagines#stray kids imagines#stray kids headcanons#han#changbin#bang chan#felix#lee know#hyunjin#Seungmin#I.N#maknae on top#han jisung#jeongin#yang jeongin#celi headcanon
632 notes
·
View notes
Text
Chapter 2 romance
"You were part of the science guild?" Lena asked, astonished.
They were in Zor-El's lab in the floating city of Argo. After showing them the plans, he insisted on giving them a tour of his new lab in the guild's grounds.
"Yeah," Kara simply mumbled in response.
"Not only that," Zor-El continued. "But she was the top of her class! She was going to be the youngest member in all of Krypton's history."
"Father, you're exaggerating."
"Not at all. She has been my personal assistant in my lab since she was five years old, helping me finish that kellex update that was driving me crazy."
"I never knew." Lena studied Kara's familiar figure. She still found so many ways to surprise her, Lena wondered what else she was hiding under that sheepish smile.
"That I was a nerd?"
"No, that I knew, I have seen your watch history on netflix. But I never knew you were into science, you always seemed baffled when I talked about it."
"Yeah, well, earth has different terminology you see, also a slight difference in gravity, which makes things different, not to mention the periodic table and all of that… But I also just wanted to dive into something different after I came to earth." Kara studied the table closely, testing the edge of it with her fingernails. Her smile, while still very present on her face, never really reached her eyes.
"And why is that, Inah? You could've advanced earth's understanding by lightyears," Zor-El proclaimed.
"It's just–" she stopped for a moment, "didn't seem right at the time." She finished instead, flashing her father a bigger grin. Kara's eyes were always smiling, but Lena could see how forced the smile really was, as if there was something else simmering underneath.
"Kara,I could really use some fresh air. Why don't you join me?" Lena quickly suggested it before Zor-El could respond.
"Yeah."
The air in Argo felt different. She wasn't sure if it was for the lack of pollution, or simply the fact that it was an alien territory.
"Do you want to go back? We got what we came for. I know you said you wanted to spend some time with your parents, but you seem so uncomfortable Kara, we can just go back."
"No," Kara trailed away with uncertainty. She was quiet for a while. Lena decided to wait for her to continue as they walked side by side through the alien city Kara once called home.
"I should want to spend time with them right? They are my parents. Wouldn't you want to spend more time with your mother if you had the chance?" Kara asked, almost pleading for something in her voice.
"I… yes?" Lena wasn't sure what to say. "I would like to say yes, but I don't know… I found so many things out about her when I visited her hometown. I suppose I don't really know what she was really like, if we would even get along." That trip to Ireland really shook the image of her mother she had conjured in her mind, she was quite honestly afraid to learn more.
"We never really know our parents do we?" Kara chuckled bitterly. She paused for a moment before she continued. "I wanted them so badly when I first came to earth. I saw them everywhere, from the supermarket, to my school teachers to my dreams, always coming to rescue me back home. I looked up to them, I always wanted to impress my mum, and I wanted to be just like my dad when I grew up." Kara stopped next to some railing at the end of the town, securing the cliff from falling to the refugee encampment below. She rested her arms on the top of the cool metal and looked at the sky, her eyes drifting miles away.
"Then why didn't you pursue science on earth?" Lena asked gently.
"Kal and the Danvers were always going on about how I should hide my identity, anything that might make me alien. It's not just my powers, it was the cultural differences, mannerism, accent, pop culture, everything. You know I learned calculus when I was four, so I feared showing any of that in school would raise suspicion." She took a deep breath and turned to face Lena, leaning her back against the railing. "Also, I suppose, after a while, thinking about that stuff just started to hurt. It always reminded me of home, and it just hurt to think about it."
"I'm sorry if I ever made you uncomfortable in any way." Lena took a step closer, but feared reaching out. She held herself out of habit, fearing she might have hurt her best friend for years without realising it.
"No, Lena you didn't hurt me, quite the opposite actually. After years I managed to avoid thinking about it, I focused on other activities and studies and just tried to keep myself from sticking out. After becoming Supergirl I learned some new information about my parents, realised that everything I thought about them was wrong. I held both them and Krypton on such a high pedestal, without even knowing them at all, not really anyway. When I met you, you reminded me of why I fell in love with science, engineering and innovating. You always talk with so much love and enthusiasm about each project, always trying to make the world a better place. You made it everything I thought it was, everything it should be."
Lena felt her cheeks flash as a smile spread on her face. "Maybe we can try to work on it together. If you're interested of course." She walked next to the railing, putting both hands to stabilize herself as she looked at the valley below.
"Yes. I'd love that." Kara smiled, turning back towards the valley only shifting closer to Lena so they stood almost shoulder to shoulder.
"Good. Then we can maybe even finish it in time for their wedding, it would be the perfect timing for them to know that they can feel secure about their future and know they can raise a family in whatever way they choose."
Kara let out a small laugh, almost a giggle as the smile finally returned to her face.
"What?" Lena inquired with a matching smile on her lips.
"It's just, everything on earth is always so romantic."
"Romantic?"
"Yeah. It was always so cold and calculated on Krypton. Everything has a very clear purpose and the drive for creation was always efficiency. But on earth there's always a story, a connection. Everything feels like art, you lot romanticise everything. It's one of my favourite things about earth."
Lena's smile grew wider. Despite everything she went through, Kara still had this wonderful optimistic and hopeful outlook on everything that radiated positivity wherever she went. Lena let herself bask in it whenever she could, feeling lucky to simply be granted the opportunity. She wasn't sure what possessed her to ask her next question.
"Do you want kids?" Her body flushed red hot when she realised what she just asked.
"Yes, I always wanted kids." Kara answered simply, as if she didn't find the sudden question strange. "How about you? Do you want kids?"
Lena took a moment, taking a deep breath before she answered. "I… Well, I grew up with the Luthors and they are not the kind of family you want to bring a child to." She said with a forced smile.
"But, do you want to?"
"Maybe? Yes. I suppose with the right person. I fear I might be a terrible mum."
"What? No! Lena, you would be an amazing mother. I just know it." Kara's smile almost made her believe it. "You'd have two amazing super smart kids-"
"Two?" Lena asked, amused with a raised brow.
"At least two," Kara nodded to herself. "And they would be the smartest kids in school and win every award in whatever sport they choose to participate in."
"Oh, are they athletes, too?"
"Of course, sport is very important Lena." Kara answered seriously.
Lena laughed in response. She loved how ridiculous Kara could be.
"And I would spoil them rotten of course. Giving them the best snacks and telling them the funniest jokes."
"You would, wouldn't you." It was said as a statement. Damn Kara and her descriptions, she could almost see it in her mind.
"Yes! I would be the coolest aunt! Their favourite aunt Kara." She finished with a satisfied grin.
"Aunt Kara." Lena's words felt bitter in her mouth, yet she tried to force her best genuine smile.
"And you would get to be cool aunt Lena as well, of course. Oh, we should definitely try to have our kids at the same time so they could grow up to be best friends." Kara added excitedly.
"Yeah," Lena feared her smile might come off as a bit manic. "We certainly should."
"We'll make sure they know they have no expectations they need to fulfill, so they can grow up free to be who they are." Kara continued in a lower voice, saying it almost to herself, turning her head to watch the sky.
"You'd make a great mum too, Kara." Lena said with all the honesty she could master, probably carrying slightly more emotions then she intended.
Kara smiled, shifting a bit closer, to lean some of her weight on Lena's shoulder as they continued to watch the starry night above them.
Read here on ao3
#that was my favourite to write so far#supercorptober#supercorp#supergirl#kara danvers#lena luthor#supercorptober2023#my art#my fic
279 notes
·
View notes
Text
Phantom notices the various pieces of macramé that are placed around all over the ghoul den. An intricate wall hanging here, a complicated mat there. The whole band have matching bracelets, but Phantom doesn't know who made them or when. He assumes they are made by the craftier ghoulettes or Mountain as the earth ghoul has an impressive collection of plant hangers.
He finds out that his assumptions are completely wrong during the first day of travel on the tour bus when he finds Dew sitting in the back of the bus, engrossed in a project and listening to Mountain reading a book.
Turns out, Dew started making plant hangers after his elemental change to keep his fingers pliant and work up their grip strength.
Dew gives Phantom and Aurora each their personalised bracelets at the end of the tour.
142 notes
·
View notes
Text
The Bathtub
Felix Catton x Fem Reader
Warnings: smut, unprotected sex, spying.
A/N: I had watched Saltburn the other night and the bathtub scene was a tad disturbing but then I had thought I’d put a spin on it with a female who let’s face it is less creepy than Oliver. This is my first attempt at writing an imagine with smut.
Felix and I had met this past semester at Oxford. We had been paired up on an assignment together and had hit it off. He was incredibly attractive and really down to earth once you got to know him. During our time working together on the assignment we had become really close.
During the time we had spent together on the assignment he had learned that my parents and I hadn’t spoken in over a year, and that I really didn’t have a place to go home to after the semester had ended, that’s when he invited me to spend the summer at Saltburn, his family’s estate.
The day the semester ended we had loaded up in Felix’s vehicle and drove to the large estate. Once we arrived he had taken the liberty of showing me around the vast estate, ending the tour with my bedroom for the summer. My bedroom was connected to his through a shared bathroom. The proximity of our rooms had trouble written all over it.
I had been at Saltburn for a little over a week when one night, I was heading to the bathroom to rest and wash away all the stress of the day in the large clawfoot tub. As I approached the bathroom I could hear low groans coming from the other side of the door. My curiosity had gotten the best of me and I chose to peek through the small crack in the door. There in the tub with his head thrown back in pleasure was Felix.
He was pleasuring himself, low guttural groans leaving his mouth. The sight of him, his head thrown back groaning in pure pleasure was absolutely breathtaking, I was undoubtedly turned on by the sight in front of me.
Instinctively my hand slipped beneath the waist band of my yoga pants, the dull ache between my legs begging to be satiated. My fingers graze the sensitive bud between my legs, sending a wave of pleasure rippling through my body. My fingers slip past my folds and two enter my core, instinctively I let a moan slip from my lips at the sensation. Felix’s head snaps up and in my direction, our eyes making contact through the crack of the door.“I’m sorry
Felix's eyebrows were raised and he stared at me, his lips were slightly curved in a small smile. “You know it’s rude to spy on people,” he smirks. “Especially when they’re in a vulnerable state.”
“I wasn’t trying to spy on you,” I say softly. “I was coming to take a bath myself, when I caught you jerking off.” I confess. “It was kind of hot and turned me on a bit.” I say blatantly.
Felix's eyebrows rose slightly and his tone of voice changed to a more sultry tone. "So you're saying you like what you saw?"
“I’m not saying I didn’t like it” I counter, biting my bottom lip. The ache between my legs suddenly coming back with a vengeance.
Felix's facial expression changed to a small grin, revealing his pearly white front teeth. “I’d say you really liked it, judging by the moan I heard come from you.”
“Would it be a problem if I did?” I retort raising an eyebrow waiting for his response.
His grin extended into a full smile and he looked directly into my eyes. "No, It wouldn't be a problem. It’d turn me on."
“Oh more turned than you already are?” I ask nodding my head in the direction of his erection hidden behind the wall of the bathtub.
Felix's breath became rapid and his eyes darkened. "Were you impressed with what you saw?"
“Unfortunately I couldn’t actually see just how big your cock is,” I sigh pouting a bit. “I’m kind of disappointed about that.”
He let out a small laugh and a cocky grin appeared on his face. “I’d let you see just how big I am but I don’t think you’d be able to handle it.”
“I’d be willing to bet,” I say my eyes trailing over his naked body until it disappears behind the tub wall. “I could handle it and blow your mind in the process.” I wink at him.
Felix raised an eyebrow. "Oh, really?" He paused for a moment, a grin plastered on his face. "Show me what you can do then." His tone of voice was flirtatious and suggestive.
“Be careful what you wish for. I think you underestimate me and my abilities.” I smirk biting my lip and leaning against the door frame.
A tiny and teasing smirk crossed Felix's face. "I'm willing to find out."
“I’m willing to show you” I smirk leaning off the door frame and walking to the tub. Stripping out of my clothes as I do.
Felix's breath became rapid and he stared at me, his lips curved into a hungry grin, as he adjusted to make room for me. I slowly dipped one foot in the tub drawing out the anticipation of the moment. My other foot followed, and slowly I slid down in the water between his spread legs, “mmm you’re much bigger than I thought you were.” I moan as I eye his cock erect out of the water.
“Do you think you could take all of me?” He asks eyeing me from across the tub. “I’d love to bury every last inch inside that little pussy of yours.”
His words turn me on more than I already was. I lean up on my knees and slide over to him. My hands running up his legs slowly, teasing him. I grab his length in one of my hands and slowly start to pump up and down on his shaft in a rhythmic motion. He throws his head back a groan escaping his lips. The sight encouraging me to keep going. I bend down and lick my tongue around the head of his cock. The taste of his arousal hitting my tongue as I do.
I take the tip in my mouth sucking it softly and I feel his hands tangle in my hair and his hips are lifting off the bottom of the tub shoving his massive cock deeper down my throat. The tip hitting the back of my throat makes him moan and the sound of his moan drives me wild. I begin bobbing my head up and down his cock, taking him in until he hits the back of my throat and then sliding him out until the head is between my lips and sucking on it softly, making his grip tighten in my hair. He shoves my head back down holding it in place as the head of his cock tickles the back of my throat making me gag. Then roughly he jerks my head up causing his length to fall out of my mouth with a satisfying pop.
He pulls my hair back making my back arch with it, my large perky breasts on full display for him. He leans down and traces his tongue from my collar to my earlobe and whispers “That mouth of yours works wonders you know,” he nibbles on my lobe. “I nearly came from just having your mouth wrapped around me, but I’d much rather that sweet pussy of yours be what milks me dry tonight.” He kisses down my neck to my chest until he can take one of my nipples in his mouth and suck on the hardened bud. He swaps to the other nipple showing each equal attention when his free hand slips between us and finds my clit. The combination of him sucking on my nipples and rubbing the sensitive bud between my thighs elicits a loud moan from me. “Oh Felix,” I cry as his fingers find my entrance and he slips two fingers inside me easily. His fingers curl as he pumps them in and out of my pussy hitting my g spot each time pushing me closer and closer to my orgasm.
Too soon he slips his fingers from my core and brings them to his lips tasting my arousal. “Mmm” he moans “you taste so fucking sweet.” He says pulling his fingers from his mouth and pulling me up to face him our lips centimeters apart. “I think you should taste yourself too,” he says sliding the two fingers he had buried inside me in my mouth and instinctively I suck on them.
“You’re a dirty little slut aren’t you?” He says before he pulls me in and kisses me with a passion I’ve never felt before. Breaking the kiss he pulls away and with a wicked grin says “ride my cock like a good little girl.”
Without hesitation I do as I’m told. He pulls his legs together and slides down the back of the tub to make things easier on me. I straddle him hovering inches above his long hard cock. I take it in one of my hands lining it up with my center, the head slipping past my folds and sending a shiver down my spine. Slowly I slide down on his length letting him fill me up to the hilt. It takes a few moments for me to adjust to his size and how deep inside me he is before I start to bounce up and down on his length, circling my hips around as I do so.
“Your pussy is so tight baby,” he moans as I bounce on his cock, his hand comes around my neck choking me. “It makes me want you fill you with my cum.” He leans in and bites and sucks on my neck leaving a trail of hickeys as he goes. I can fill my orgasm building in the pit of my stomach as I grind on his cock.
“Felix,” I moan “I’m going to come.” My movements get sloppy and my walls clamp down around his cock as my orgasm rips through my body.
“That’s it baby cum for me,” he praises. “You feel so good wrapped around me as you cum.” My orgasm ends and I stay straddling him for a few moments before standing and climbing out of the tub. Felix following close behind me.
“I hope you don’t think this is over,” he says as he grabs me and pins me against the wall. “I haven’t finished yet” he leans down and kisses me hard, his fingers sliding down my body until he reaches my sopping cunt. He slides three fingers inside me this time pulling a moan from my lips as I wrap my right leg around his hip as he pumps his fingers in and out of my pussy.
“I’m going to come again,” I moan in his ear and suddenly he’s pulling his fingers out of me. Eliciting a whimper from the loss of contact.
“Wrap your arms around my neck.” He commands. Without hesitation I do as I’m told. He then lifts me up off the ground and I wrap my legs around his waist as his cock slips easily into my pussy, pulling another moan from my lips.
With his hands grasping my thighs he bounces me on his cock, going deeper than he was earlier, hitting my g-spot with every thrust pushing me closer and closer to my climax. His movements become rigid and I can tell he is close, by the grunts he makes as he drives deep into me.
“I’m coming Felix,” I cry as he pushes me into the wall thrusting his hips up into my core. My walls clamp around him and my second orgasm rips through my body.
“Fuck!” He groans with one last thrust. Before his orgasm rips through him, his cock spasming inside me as his seed fills my cunt. “That was fucking amazing.” He whispers kissing me sweetly, his cock still buried inside my pussy. He pulls out of me and places me down.
“That was the best sex I’ve ever had” I say still holding onto his neck for balance because my legs are weak and trembling.
“Agreed,” he smiles “we should definitely do it more often, but right now I think you need to clean up a bit.” He says as he looks down, his cum leaking from my body.
#saltburn#saltburn imagine#felix catton#felix catton imagine#felix catton smut#saltburn smut#the bathtub scene#jacob elordi imagine#jacob elordi#smut#smut imagine
84 notes
·
View notes
Text
[ENG translation] Joker Out, the kings of charisma, conquer Europe: "What's happening is incredible!"
Interview with Bojan and Jure. The original article was written by Alma Rahne for Metropolitan, it was published on 29.12.2023. English translation by @varianestoroff, proof read by a member of JokerOutSubs.
Photo: Dean Grainger
Travel to the other side of the world, learn Slovene and queue for the concert from 7 am. The fans are willing to do all this for them. If 2023 was a year of overachievement for Joker Out, get ready for the new wave coming in 2024.
It's been a very successful year for the boys, if not the best year yet. With their Eurovision performance, watched by around 200 million people worldwide, their musical fairytale has begun.
Although they ended up in 21st place, undeserved according to many, they put their joker* to good use. But they have left their mark on Europe, as Eurovision fans voted them kings of charisma just a few days ago.
*The Joker is a playing card found in most modern French-suited card decks, as an addition to the standard four suits. It often acts as a wild card (a card that may be used to represent another card or cards). Here, the journalist creates a pun based on the value of the card and the name of the band.
In life, as with cards, sometimes you have to take risks to win. And Joker Out are definitely the winners, having achieved more out of their 3-minute Eurovision performance than they might have dared to dream of in the first place.
A few days ago, the boys successfully ended their first European tour, where their fans sang out loud in Slovene and started learning the language because of them. It sounds unbelievable, but that's what they achieved this year. Every time we meet - whether for interviews, backstage at gigs or on the street - I notice that despite all their achievements over the last year, they are down to Earth and true to themselves and really enjoy what they do.
Photo: Instagram/Joker Out/Mark Pirc/Vita Orehek
I would dare to say that they are currently the only band in Slovenia that proves that they can break boundaries and impress abroad with their authenticity, perseverance and singing in Slovene. With his consent, I'm going to borrow the words of the fellow journalist Gašper Završnik, a correspondent of Delo in Madrid, who was also at their December concert. He described his impressions and their performance by saying, "Joker Out are to Slovene what the Cervantes Institute* is to Spanish." He later told me that he could not remember such euphoria about a foreign band in Spain.
*The Cervantes Institute is a public cultural institution created with the aim of promoting and teaching the Spanish language and disseminating Spanish and Hispanic culture.
With New Year just around the corner, it's only right to look back and see first-hand how Bojan Cvjetićanin and Jure Maček, members of Joker Out, spent 2023. Before they and the other members Kris Guštin, Jan Peteh and Nace Jordan perform in front of the Slovenian audience for the last time this year on Saturday the 30th of December at Kongresni trg, in this interview they revealed their plans for 2024, talked about life on tour and gave details of their new upcoming single.
How would you describe the year behind you?
Jure: We collected a lot of miles by buying so many plane tickets. We had lots of flights, Bojan would say it was very turbulent. But for me it was quite a hard year.
Bojan: I would say a perfect year. We really seized it to the fullest. I think we have milked 2023 dry. We have done everything, we have really put everything we have in us. We have given every last inch of ourselves, but we have also taken everything we could.
Photo: Vita Orehek
Since you devoted yourselves especially to music and your career, was there any field in which you weren't the best?
Bojan: My garden bed fell apart.
Jure: I don't have a girlfriend.
Bojan: Neither do I. (laughs) We don't have a girlfriend, we don't have money...
Jure: We see our family more rarely.
Bojan: See, a great year. (laughs)
Jure Maček, photo by Mediaspeed/Sandi Fišer
Bojan, you mentioned that your biggest goal was to perform at the Sziget festival, which you will do next year. What's next, will you set a new goal?
I told myself that I didn't want new goals to determine success. Let's say, we always had in the back of our minds that this is something that happens and means success. We always saw Sziget as, "You really succeed when you perform on the main stage at Sziget." For us (Jokers) it's the most legendary festival in Europe. And once we conquer that, as far as I'm concerned, there are no more goals that determine success. For me, it's all a plus after that and I want us to make new music, have a good time and enjoy it. Like we are now, with the new single. Every time we record a new song we're going to be happy, listen to it, play it a thousand times and call each other to say how good it is. That's all I want.
Have you ever been to Sziget?
Jure: No, never.
Bojan: Unfortunately not, I had everything ready to go twice. Once I got sick, and the other time we had a concert the day before.
Jan Peteh, photo by Mediaspeed/Borut Cvetko
What do you do when a Joker Out concert coincides with something else you've been wanting to visit or see for a while? Career probably has priority... Is there a bitter aftertaste that night at the concert?
Bojan: Let's not lie to ourselves. It depends on the gig. If it's something that you would love to miss, but you have to do it because it's the whole band's business, not your own, then you might go on stage with a bitter aftertaste.
Jure: We just had a concert in Celje and at the same time my former band Čedahuči had a concert in Kino Šiška. I really wanted to go, but it didn't work out.
Bojan: It really hurts then, but what can you do, that's just the way it is. But it was a great concert in Celje. I got sick, I was on stage with a fever. I would have liked to lie at home, but in the end the concert healed me. I sweated there, I excercised a little and I changed my mindset. I woke up the next day 200 times better.
You've just finished recording a new single. What can you reveal?
Jure: We can say that it is a ballad.I think I can feel it the most out of the all songs so far.
Bojan: I would say it's the most different so far. Maybe as a songwriter I put myself out there most directly, it's quite a therapeutic song.
Where did the inspiration come from?
Bojan: At the end of July, things started happening and inspired me to write this song. The lyrics didn't take long to develop. I wrote the main part when we were in the studio recording the English single 'Sunny Side of London'. That's when this 'jam' happened, which we took as the basis for the song. I had already written the lyrics for the verses and the chorus... I can reveal that the song will be in English (smiles).
Bojan Cvjetićanin, photo by Profimedia
How do you approach songwriting? With the aim of making it a hit?
Jure: No, we all just have to feel the song. That's the most important thing.
Bojan: I think the release of the upcoming single is very brave for a band in our position. Because it's quite possible that it won't be a hit at all. The song is really different... but if people feel the song the way we did, it could be our biggest hit. We really didn't play the 'certainty card'.
Have you ever thought about writing a song using ChatGPT*?
Bojan: No, but we have tested how it works.
*ChatGPT is a chatbot based on artificial intelligence and machine learning, developed by OpenAI and specialised in conversation with a human user.
Fans bring different banners to your concerts, which they make themselves. Is there a sign that you remember the most?
Jure: I'm the furthest away from the audience and I see the least of them (laughs). I don't remember any in particular at the moment. But I have to say that they are really original.
Bojan: They're really sick, because they're so indecent (laughs). I often times couldn't stop myself from laughing in the middle of singing, thinking, 'who thought of that?' But it's really sick, because they hold it up for an hour and wait for me to read it.
Jure: And the people behind them are shouting at them and asking them to move it, because it's blocking their view of the stage (laughs).
Bojan: I think the one that got my attention the most was in Rijeka: "Bojan, why did you invite so many people to our date?" They can be really creative.
Nace Jordan, photo by Profimedia
A fellow journalist from Delo attended your concert in Madrid at the beginning of December and wrote on social media: Joker Out is to Slovene what the Cervantes Institute is to Spanish. Those of us who are involved, connected with Spanish, know that this is a great compliment. Any comment?
Bojan: I saw what he wrote, and as I am also a bit involved with Spanish (smiles), I was very honoured that it came out of his mouth. The concert in Madrid was really excellent. It was an explosion of energy that can only happen by accident, and I am glad that he was at that concert. In fact, what is happening is incredible. We go around Europe and people sing in Slovene for an hour and a half. That is probably something that has never happened before. They are learning phrases in Slovene so that they can say them to us. They bring us textbooks and dictionaries to sign.
Do you feel that you have such a big influence on your fans? Did you ever imagine that your fans would learn Slovene because of you?
Jure: That's so weird. It's like being in a bubble all the time.
Bojan: We are not personifying these people. On stage, we are ourselves, but still an acquaintance. There I am Bojan Cvjetićanin for them, but for myself I am Bojč. I am Bojč when none of the band members take me seriously. Or when they flip me off if I say something stupid. (smiles) When I get home, though, I'm the same Bojč that I was when I was 10 years old. I don't think you can understand that, which is fine. Thank God... I'm still myself on stage, just in a different role.
What is the hardest part of touring?
Jure: Just the journey, the means of transportation - planes.
Bojan: Getting sick.
What is a typical day like for you when you are on tour?
Jure: After the concert we go straight to the hotel, shower and sleep as soon as possible. Around 2am we fall asleep, and between 4am and 5am we're awake because we have a flight to catch. We have to be at the airport at 7, we have a flight at 8 and we are in the next city, the next country, by 11. Then we go to the concert venue, we get there between 1 and 2 pm. From 2 to 4 we are free, then we go to the hotel to rest a little. Our technicians have it worse, because they start preparing the stage, the sound system. Between 4 and 5 there is the sound check, dinner at 6 and the concert at 8. And the next day we repeat it again. (Smiles)
What about on the tour bus?
Jure: You have your own home on the bus. The day looks similar, except that we shower after the concert backstage and get on the bus when we want, fall asleep and wake up when we want. That is the main difference. Because you're driving overnight and you usually get to the next town at 10 o'clock, wake up, look out the window and you're somewhere else.
Bojan: Usually the tour bus is parked outside the concert venue.
Are your most passionate fans waiting for you outside the bus?
Bojan: That too. Last time I woke up at seven to go to the toilet and look out the window. We had just come from Wroclaw to Poznan and there were 50 people outside and I was still dizzy (laughs).
Jure: It's much easier to travel by bus. When I came back from Poland after a 10-day tour in a tour bus, I joked that I came back so fresh that I could come home at 10 o'clock and say, "Mother, what can I do today?"(Smiles).
Kris Guštin, photo by Profimedia
In your experience, what contributes more to success: talent or hard work?
Bojan: Neither. But many people have gone very far with hard work, even if they didn't have much talent. I would say that hard work is important and surrounding yourself with people who have talent and want the best for you. If you don't have talent yourself.
With the New Year, you are going abroad. What is the main purpose, what will you be doing?
Jure: We're moving to London for two months at the beginning of January. We've rented a house and a garage there, where we'll work and rehearse the new songs. Then in March we go on a European tour for a month. We'll be home for the holidays and then we're going back to England. In mid-April we're going to Germany for a month in the studio and we hope to record the album by mid-May. And then the festival season, the album release and everything that follows.
Bojan: Then soon Merry Christmas and Happy New Year (laughs).
Photo by Vita Orehek
81 notes
·
View notes
Text
Incoming: Long post! Black media discourse! Zendaya think piece!
Two years ago I wrote this post about Zendaya, Keke Palmer, and how colorism shapes the career trajectories of Black actresses.
This past weekend Challengers released in theaters, sparking a round of online discussion about Zendaya, her star power, her talent as an actor, and how a raunchy film like Challengers fits into a cultural landscape that’s less enthusiastic about on-screen depictions of sex.
Early reviews of the film lauded Zendaya’s performance, and even after it’s release, the general consensus remains overwhelmingly positive, with quiet buzzing of a potential Oscar nomination for Zendaya. Kudos to her!
I’m not here, however, to discuss or analyze Zendaya’s acting chops. (To some ppl, she’s outstanding, to others she’s overhyped. Personally, I think Zendaya is talented. Her work in Euphoria was no small feat and she’s proved herself capable.)
The reason I’m writing this now is that an excerpt from this article about Zendaya and Challengers got me thinking again about what it takes for Black actors to become “stars” in this day and age. I’ll insert screenshots here.
Now I’m sure the reviewer’s tone in these excerpts will be off-putting to some, esp those who identify as a part of the Zendaya standom. It’s clear that Ms. Angelica Jade Bastien has yet to buy into the fanfare about Zendaya’s acting abilities.
But she touches on something very interesting to me. Zendaya is THE most prominent Black actress of the younger generation and I’d argue her degree of star power is unmatched by even her non-Black peers, some of them having comparatively longer (& more impressive) resumes. Zendaya is incredibly well liked. People want to see her and she’s been so visible these past 6 years that it’s hard to believe Challengers is her first leading role in a big release.
So…why her? Why has Zendaya been able to garner this level of star power and leverage behind the scenes while other equally talented Black actors fight for adequate roles and visibility? After reading several opinions, I’ve come to some conclusions.
I think colorism, racial identity, and desirability politics all play a role (as was discussed in the colorism post). But I also think Zendaya has been very smart about managing her online presence and overall brand. She’s maintained Beyonce level privacy about her personal life (virtually scandal free since her teens) and has managed to exude poise while still being seen as delightfully down-to-earth. That in itself is praiseworthy b/c it’s a delicate balancing act and many have faltered.
I also think that as AJB states, there’s an indictment on Hollywood to be made here. I think since Zendaya’s exit from Disney, the projects she’s taken on have used her likeness to stoke public interest in the films. (Similar to the way ppl watched Selena’s film choices post- Wizards of Waverly: “What’s this beloved disney kid up to next?”)
And this is noteworthy b/c the significance of Zendaya’s roles in the early films of the Spiderman and Dune franchises have been disproportionate to her visibility in promotional materials. Zendaya’s screentime in the first Dune couldn’t have amounted to more than 10 minutes, but she was prominently featured on the press tour and red carpets. The same goes for the first Spiderman. She’s clearly been used to sell tickets to these movies, even when she doesn’t have a lot to do in them.
And Zendaya, to her credit, has made the most of these opportunities (earlier this year she received high praise for her performance as Chani in Dune 2). She once stated in a vogue interview that she started going out for roles initially written as white to see if she’d be able to change the casting team’s mind. And it seems that she’s succeeded, as evidenced by her presence in several huge releases over the past 6 years. But these were often small, supporting roles where her identity as a biracial Black woman didn’t impact her character’s arc within the overall story. (This is not necessarily a bad thing in itself, but stay with me)
This then begs the question, “What does it mean for a star like Zendaya to take up roles originally reserved for white actresses?”
The conclusion I’ve come to is that it means providing a film with enough racial diversity to give the impression that Hollywood cares about being inclusive, while not being so different that certain audiences are unable to “connect” to the character. I think that “Hollywood’s acceptable Black girl” has to be Black enough to fulfill a diversity quota, but not so Black that audiences are reminded the character has a different lived experience from them and feel uncomfortable.
Like AJB said, I don’t believe mainstream audiences are actually interested in Black female rage. It makes them uncomfortable and lately certain factions of the population have been extremely vocal about being “tired of woke.”
I find it strange that Justin Kuritzkes (the Challengers screenwriter) stated it only made sense to write Tashi as a Black woman bc of the visibility and dominance of Black women in tennis, but didn’t think it’d be important to explore any of the challenges that come with that in the film. And for this to be followed by the decision to cast a light skinned, biracial actress in the role? It doesn’t make any sense.
We’re shown that Tashi Duncan is a fierce, unapologetically competitive athlete. And yet, these are not qualities that Black female athletes are usually applauded for having. Just look at the narratives that have swirled around athletes like Serena Williams and Sha’Carri Richardson since their debuts. There’s always a barely concealed desire to humble high achieving Black women who are confident in their abilities. The press coverage around Serena & Naomi’s infamous match (which Justin Kuritzkes said inspired Challengers) is a perfect example of that. It’s strange to model a character after these figures and give no mention of these struggles and how they’d influence character motivations.
IMO, this reads as another case of not wanting to be critized for lack of diversity in your film, while also not wanting to do the work that goes into making your diverse cast authentic. (like getting input from or writing alongside other BIPOC screenwriters. That “little white boys” line is truly meaningless without any context or backstory. And it doesn’t sound like they’ve given Tashi much.) The result is an Black female lead character who is under-written and whose importance has been overstated in the promos in contrast to the actual story. (Which seems to fit right on trend for films Zendaya’s been a part of.)
Zendaya seems to have become the go-to Black actress for when big budget films want to “go ethnic.” She’s mixed race, conventionally beautiful, near universally well-liked w/ a loyal fanbase, and has been recognized as talented enough (Two Emmys! Count ‘em. Two!) to get the job done. She’s a safe bet that allows them to kill two birds with one stone. By adding Zendaya to the mix, the studio gets to check a diversity box for their cast and gets leading star guaranteed to get them sales.
I really don’t want anyone to misconstrue this as downplaying Zendaya’s achievements or her talent, b/c it’s not. But no part of the society we live in is a true meritocracy. As I discussed in the original post re: colorism, there are always structural and social forces at work shaping our ability to advance. Like Beyonce, Zendaya is an incredibly privileged Black woman who is talented, has worked hard, and has made the most of the advantages she’s been afforded. And I don’t think Zendaya has any control over the way she’s been used to advertise the films she’s done over the past 6 years.
I just think this conversation is another opportunity to adjust our perspectives and examine the limitations of representation in Hollywood. I’m reluctant to acknowledge Zendaya’s current success as a marker of progress or even see it as a win for Black female representation.
“Zendaya is officially Gen Z’s Hollywood star. Gen Z’s first true Hollywood star is a Black woman!”
What does it say about the stage of progress we’re in if our generation’s chosen Black leading lady has to have such close proximity to whiteness that people can choose to overlook her Blackness, if they so desire? Is the mere presence of a Black face in a high place progress? Or is it what that person’s power allows them to do for others who are also marginalized? As AJB asked, how meaningful is Zendaya’s position as a Black female producer if everything about the projects she’s involved in is white except for her? (Just throwing out food for thought: How different would Challengers have been if a MoC was casted as one of the male leads instead of the two “white twinks” everyone can’t stop talking about? No shade to Mike Faist or Josh O’Connor, but would it still have gotten buzz? Would the marketing team have known how to advertise the film if there were two main actors of color instead of one?)
I think it’s amazing to see Zendaya’s growth and success as a biracial Black female entertainer, but I won’t attach any meaning to her success that isn’t there.
This is actually a really shitty time for Black art and Black actors in Hollywood. Last year, so many wonderful Black shows were cancelled. DEI rollbacks are hitting all parts of society, but especially entertainment and the trend doesn’t seem to be reversing any time soon.
It’s not comforting to see Zendaya reach the heights she’s soared to, while other equally talented yet less privileged Black actors fall into obscurity waiting years before they get another role that showcases their abilities. Black actors continue to suffer from lack access to opportunities/roles. Their projects are not marketed and given time to grow. And even when the support is there, the shows will still be cancelled. What does it say that the one Black actress who has had consistent enough access to these opportunites to achieve “star” status is the one with the closest proximity to whiteness?
Things are actually very bleak.
#blackgirlcinephiles#black girls on tumblr#discourse#black actresses#black actresses in hollywood#zendaya#challengers#what does it mean to be a star in this day and age#what is the true importance of having a Black hollywood star?#should it mean anything?#black representation#black representation in media
32 notes
·
View notes
Text
10 things Matty does as a dad
A/n: the brain rot will not stop so….
Warnings: none
————
Freak out at the hospital when the nurse hands him his newborn baby for the first time. “Oh gosh what if I drop her.” “Oh she’s so small. How can a person be so small.” “hi little one. I’m your daddy it’s so good to meet you.” “I love you already.”
Gets up every single time the baby does. Even though he and the wife have a schedule and it hinges upon one of them being awake and alert when the other isn’t. So it defeats the purpose for him to wake up every time but he insists he’d just feel guilty if he kept sleeping while his wife and child are awake at night.
Takes a year off from work. No producing. No writing for other artists. No 1975 stuff. He might scribble stuff down or try ideas if something comes to him. But he’s not like actively trying to make a record at all. So, he stays with the baby at home all day when the missus gets back to work and gets really into baby nutrition. Reading books on obscure health benefits of rare oils and extracts. Tries to buy a bunch of them online.
Oh the online shopping. When it’s late at night and he’s rocking the baby back to sleep and he’s kinda sleep deprived, he makes questionable decisions. Buys every toy that markets itself as “educational.” Or important to kids cognitive development or whatever. His missus has to institute a rule where they need to donate 2 old toys for each new toy they purchase.
The pediatrician tells him that talking and reading to the baby is important in order to make sure they acquire the strongest vocabulary by age 3. So he starts to read to her regularly. First, it’s children’s books. But then it progresses to whatever he can find around the house. Grocery lists, the blender manual, song lyrics, emails. He even does different voices and sound effects to keep things interesting.
He asks his baby girl for her input on music even before she’s old enough to understand what she’s really saying. “Come here, daddy wants to show you something. What do you think? You like it?”
Let’s her design tour posters/ album cover/ merch graphics
Establishes a regular dad-daughter date. Even when she’s an infant. A whole day of just the two of them. It starts out as just him needing to prove to himself that he could take care of her all day without asking for help from anyone. But he just keeps doing it as time goes by. It becomes a bonding experience. As she grows up, they start to use this time to talk about school, what she’s into, her friends, etc.
Cries when she’s sick. The missus will be like “matty, children get the sniffles sometimes. She’ll be okay. This is fine. Necessary even! For her immune system.” But he’s just like “she’s so miserable and can hardly breathe poor girl.” He’s practically a mess when she gets the chickenpox. All his memories of getting it or watching his brother get it mean nothing to him. He acts as if his kid is the first and last one to ever get sick on parent earth.
He watches YouTube tutorials to learn to do various hair styles just to impress her by offering her options when she asks him to help her do her hair for school in the morning.
63 notes
·
View notes
Text
- Shared from Facebook -
Tobias Forge (Papa Emeritus) and his significantly respected unique Swedish rock band Ghost chose Cherry Bar to host their End of 2022-2023 World Tour party last night.
I’m told the band leader Tobias himself specifically insisted that this historic Ghost event be hosted at Cherry Bar (a Laneway dive bar in Melbourne with a mere 250 capacity). This never happens. Every other band in the World outsources these admin decisions to their “staff”.
I spoke at length with Tobias last night, one of the biggest “rock stars” on Earth.
He was incredibly impressive. I mean it.
Tobias Forge may be the most humble, respectful, calm and graceful human being I have ever met at Cherry. And I’ve met them all.
With those sparkling blue-green eyes, he’s like Simon the Likable from ‘Get Smart’.
Tobias reflected on his two previous visits to Cherry and commented on how pleased he was that we found a new home when he feared we were closing forever.
My dear Mother knows less about Cherry Bar than this Stockholm resident does!
To be at the end of a grueling world tour and look as healthy and content as Tobias does is beyond unexpected.
It is downright miraculous.
I’m telling you he looked like he’d just returned from a soul cleansing one-month Tibetan retreat.
Every other artist I have seen at this finishing line looked like… they were lucky to make it. I’m just shooting straight here folks.
When I asked Tobias “Mate, what can I get you to drink?”, he responded courteously “May I please have a coffee with milk, if it’s not too much trouble.”
When I returned 5 minutes later with a paper cup with black coffee and a paper cup with milk (from 7/11) it was like I’d just solved the Da Vinci Code. He was genuinely taken aback by this simplest of accommodations. I shit you not. His jaw dropped like I’d just upgraded him to First Class. You can’t fake this.
To top the evening off I was gifted by Tobias and Ghost…. an immaculate framed Gold Record with all the Ghost World Tour details on it. Trust me. It’s special.
What is going on here?!
What the actual fark is going on here?!!
A world-renowned ground-breaking Swedish anthemic rock band (on trajectory to be the biggest band in the world) on the exhausting final days of their expansive World tour… are taking the time out to meaningfully acknowledge and respect tiny Cherry Bar in Melbourne.
It’s a beautiful true story that deserves to be shared.
Share it.
Papa don’t preach.
Papa delivers.
And Cherry respects.
James Young.
JPY (Tonight, you can… Call Me Little Sunshine)
Owner. Booker.
Cherry Bar
Melbourne
That’s me on the left in this photo. 🙂
Tobias on your right.
#just needed to share#our tender father#ghost band#the band ghost#papa emeritus iv#copia#papa iv#tobias forge#Cherry bar#re imperatour
72 notes
·
View notes
Text
Roman Holiday 🇮🇹
Minho would be the type of guy to confess his feelings in a grand yet down to earth manner.
He’d take you to Italy, a lifelong dream of his.
He’d be so giddy to spend the time overseas with you, his best friend and confidante.
He had it all planned out - walking tours amongst the sights, plenty of gelato and fake pretend fights at the coliseum.
He’d be learning a couple of words in Italian, hoping to impress you when he’d be ordering delicious pasta for the both of you.
Walking around with Minho would mean a lot of stares, mostly by females, which would go unnoticed by him. Amongst all those historical monuments and sights his eyes were set on the only art that mattered - you.
He’d rent out a Vespa and be your chauffeur on hot days, getting matching helmets for the two of you.
He’d be joking about being a gladiator, fighting and protecting you if hell broke loose.
Minho would have a blast with you, overflowing with happiness and gratitude, shoving his nervousness into the back of his mind.
On the last day, at night per se, he would take you to the trevi fountain with a bag of loose coins in his linen summer coat, ready to shoot his shot.
„You go first“, he would encourage you as he placed the dime in your soft, delicate hands.
You turned around and closed your eyes, focusing on your wish as you threw the silver metal into the fountain.
„Hey, good job!“, Minho congratulated you.
You jumped up and down and ushered him to turn around, watching him from the sidelines.
Minho brought the dime to his lips and kissed it, whispering his wish into the material. With eyes closed he threw it behind him, right into the heart of the fountain.
„Woah, you’re so good at this.“
Minho walked back to you and took your hand into his, guiding you to sit down in front of the dimly lit fountain.
„What did you wish for, y/n?“
„Isn’t it bad luck telling you?“, you shook your head repelled.
„Not if you wished strong enough“, he mused happily.
„Okay, fine.“, you gave in.
„I wished that this trip would never end.“
A serene smile formed on his lips.
„What did you wish for, Min?“
Minho‘s heart was beating out of his chest. This was the moment he had anticipated for months.
„I“, he cleared his throat.
„I wished for you, y/n.“
Your eyes widened in surprise.
„For me? What do you mean?“
Minho slightly adjusted his position, facing you directly now.
„I’m in love with you, y/n. Have been for quite a while now, actually. And if there’s anything that’s missing in my world then it’s you by my side. Only you, y/n.“
You watched him attentively, his eyes were giving away his sincerity.
„What do you say? Will you grant me my wish, y/n?“
#mykoreanlove#choi minho x reader#choi minho#shinee minho#shinee reactions#shinee imagines#shinee scenarios#shinee fic#shinee fluff#shinee x reader#minho fluff#minho x reader#minho x you#minho imagines#minho drabble#minho shinee#minho x y/n#minho scenarios#minho fic#minho fanfiction#shinee masterlist#shinee fanfic#shinee requests#kpop fanfic#kpop fluff#kpop x y/n#kpop x you#kpop x reader#kpop imagines#kpop writers
19 notes
·
View notes
Text
Paul McCartney, Celia Mortimer, Iris & Vi Caldwell & Mike McCartney: Sketches for a Coming-of-Age Novel.
All quotes from TUNE IN by Mark Lewisohn, except the last one.
[Paul] had two main girlfriends in the last weeks of 1962 and neither knew of the other. One was Celia Mortimer, 17, the strikingly attractive redhead from art school who designed her own clothes and was a big Beatles fan at the Cavern.
'In my first year at art College everyone was wild about trad jazz, but then word came up the hill that ‘things were happening’ at the Cavern; a few of us went down one lunchtime to have a look—and there were the Beatles. […] It was the first time anyone in Britain had the black polo neck, black corduroy, existentialist look. I instantly took their lead and started to make hip black corduroy things to wear.'
‘[…] Paul was attractive, intelligent, arty, all the things that appealed to me, plus he was good to be with: a genuine, gentle person who wanted to please. He was the complete opposite of John, who was snarly and grumpy and incredibly, incisively funny. Paul was the nice one. We started to go out, but things were still quite innocent. Because I lived some way out of Liverpool there weren’t many places we could go, except to sit in his dad’s front room or my friend’s front room, or the cinema—we saw the first James Bond film.’
EXOTIC NIGHTMARES
Paul’s other girlfriend was Iris Caldwell—Rory Storm’s witty, pretty, blonde sister; George’s first love; the 18-year-old daughter of Ma Storm, whose house, Hurricaneville at 54 Broad Green Road, was central to the Beatles’ late-night social scene.
‘He had a beautiful voice and puppy-dog eyes,’ Iris says, ‘and he was much more interested in me than I was in him. I wanted more than a tuppence-ha’penny guitarist of a Liverpool group.’
Iris’s professional dancing career had taken off: she was as busy as Paul, working summer seasons and London shows and touring around the country; they could only see each other when their diaries dovetailed, and just as Paul was with Celia when Iris was out of town, she was secretly going out with Frank Ifield. […]
Iris always knew that a big part of the attraction for anyone going out with her or Rory was the chance of extended time at Hurricaneville, to hang longer around her dad Ernie and especially her mum, Vi. […] ‘Mum never chucked anyone out,’ Iris says. ‘We were all late-night people apart from me dad, who the Beatles called the Crusher because he had exotic nightmares and ate household objects.’ […]
Mary had been gone for six years this October, and Vi Caldwell was one of the women who tried to fill the breach. ‘I was practically a mother to Paul,’ she said without boasting. She made him food and drink, took his stage-soaked shirts and washed and ironed them, and shared easy intimacies. ‘Paul used to like her combing his legs,’ Iris says. ‘He had really hairy legs and he’d come in from the Cavern all tired, roll up his trousers and she used to comb his legs. How ridiculous can you get? But he adored my mum and my mum adored him.’
Vi recalls: ‘Paul was very temperamental. He would come on occasions and would be terrifically friendly and down-to-earth, and on other occasions he would come and be rather aloof and we wondered if we had offended him, as if he was thinking ‘I’m being too friendly so I’ll keep you in your place.’ That was our impression.’
THRILLING IN A DIFFERENT WAY
[Paul] was without the others, but with Celia Mortimer…and a new song. It was Tuesday/Wednesday 23/24 October [1962], the Beatles’ sole two-day break of the year, and Paul decided to leave his car at home and have an adventure: he and Celia hitch-hiked to London to see Ivan Vaughan. Paul loved hitching: he enjoyed chatting to strangers and seeing himself in an observational role, but he’d only done it with George or John, never with a girl. Celia—intelligent, chic, a pretty redhead—made it thrilling in a different way. And it was to see the brilliant Ivy, his Institute mate and John’s boyhood pal. […]
The new song was I Saw Her Standing There, though it had no title as yet. Its melody and structure skidded into Paul’s head late on Monday as he drove back from a Nems Enterprises Showdance in Widness. This was a sophistication of delivery had never experienced, inspiration so excitingly hot that when he got to Hurricaneville he grabbed an acoustic guitar and started working it out. […] It was truly a magical moment for Rory Storm, who’d never seen anyone write a song before. Vi and Iris would always maintain that he asked Paul if he could have it, exclusively, and Paul said yes—but as Rory didn’t have a record contract it’s unclear why he asked and Paul may have said yes only to regain some necessary peace and quiet.
Celia: ‘We had an amazing time, just wandering the streets in the sunshine, looking at London, holding hands and having fun, and Paul had the melody of what became I Saw Her Standing There going round his head all day, humming and singing it and fleshing out the words. […] He said, ‘What rhymes with “We danced through the night?” and I came up with ‘We held each other tight’, which was really quite naff, but he used it.’
BACK TO McCARTNEY-LENNON
However, the song was completed only when he had a front parlour session with John at 20Forthlin Road. They tried out little bits on Jim Macs Nems piano but mostly used guitars, working ‘eyeball to eyeball’ just like when they’d first written together here as schoolboys. Mike took photographs of them sitting by the little tiled fireplace—important historic images, the only such photos ever taken—so here we see these two sharp ambitious tuned-in young man looking down at an old Liverpool Institute exercise book in which Paul has written the words, complete with plenty of crossings-out. John is wearing his black horn-rim glasses and playing his Jumbo Gibson, Paul is playing a cheap Spanish acoustic of unknown history. Another original, a McCartney-Lennon one, is taking shape right here, right now.
BIG PLAYER CELIA AND THE OTHER McCARTNEY BOY
Celia Mortimer’s relationship with Paul ended in the last weeks of 1962. ‘As the Beatles spent more time in London, Paul was there and not in Liverpool so much, and our situation just fizzled out. There was no time for it.’ She went on to become a big player on the London fashion scene, with her own label and studio on Great Portland Street, just a long from where she spent a few hours with Paul in 1962. In between times, she went out for a long time with Mike McCartney and was part of the Liverpool poetry scene.
Mike (a Ladies’ hairdresser at the time): MY FIRST LOVE AND BOB 'FOLK RUBBISH' DYLAN (from The Macs, 1981)
One day my first real love, after mum, walked into the salon; she was one of a group of models posing for the Daily Post and Echo. I was brushing up the hair as it cascaded endlessly down on to the floor. I wasn't exactly the brushing up which excited her, it was the way I did it (isn't it always?). The brush was balanced, she later recalled, on the end of my index finger, the furthest point from my body and, with absolute disdain, I followed it across the shop floor.
Not being a Post and Echo model at all, but in truth a hungry student plying her body for money, she returned for the free evening classes where she became my model, and I discovered that her name was Celia. From a model customer she became a model model, and from a model model we became a model couple.
She was the first woman I gave myself to, and she gave herself in return. In her Husky Street flat we got lost in each other's body and mind; we swam together through many Liverpool 8 late nights and often into the morning, when she would get up to cook breakfast and put on records. I would just lie there, male chauv-like. One morning she kept playing a particular album which didn't impress me.
'Who's that Ceel?'
'Someone they keep playing at college . . . Bob Dylan.'
'Never heard of him.'
'Neither had I, but after a while he's quite good.'
"Ceel—my first real love (after Mum)." Photo by Mike McCartney.
#just me daydreaming#coming-of-age novel#the recurring themes drive me nuts: the chic redhead and the leg combing#The Liverpool Relationship Radiant#Mike and Paul and Celia#John and Paul and Ivy#Etc#Paul and mothers and Paul's complex character#These women were too good for him#paul mccartney#mike mccartney#I saw her standing there#the beatles
43 notes
·
View notes
Text
Lokius writing prompts 3
My new ideas, some of them are inspired by the latest episode. My previous Lokius writing prompts are here, and here. If anyone uses them, please let me know. I want to read it. Today there are only 3 prompts but they are LONG 👀
1 - After saving the Multiverse, Loki and Mobius live together in Mobius' home. They are both busy working at TVA and looking after the children. Loki is so happy to have Mobius back and be part of his life that he doesn't question anything. That is until the younger of Mobius' children calls him dad (to his face or to someone else, and Loki overhears it). Loki then starts to notice that people around them (in TVA and outside) think that he and Mobius are together. This causes Loki to have an existential crisis, as he has been acting like the children's dad and Mobius' partner and for some reason has been completely unaware of this until that moment. Loki realises that he is really happy to be a part of Mobius' family and would like to start a real relationship with Mobius, but he is not sure what Mobius thinks about this and at this point he is too afraid to ask.
2 - Field Trip to Avengers Tower AU! TVA's Loki landed in the place of 2012's Loki just after the failed Chitauri invasion. He managed to convince everyone that he was under the influence of the Mind Stone, and to help fix everything he had inadvertently contributed to he promised to help defend Earth from a future invasion by Thanos. As a result, he joined the Avengers and, despite earlier scepticism about his intentions at this point after two years, most people more or less believe he actually wants to help. Still some members of the Avengers prefer not to get too close to him. Loki is again an outsider. On a day when the Avengers' tower is holding open days and another tour of visitors arrives, Tony Stark notices Loki's strange behaviour. At the sight of a perfectly ordinary 50-year-old father of two sons, Loki, the ever-confident god of lies suddenly turns into a bundle of nerves. He nervously fixes his hair and clothes, stammers as he talks, and for some incomprehensible reason starts talking about jet skis to impress the man. The strangest thing is that this tactic works because this DILF, whose name it turns out is Don, keeps emphasising that he is a single father and has no wife. Has he already mentioned that he doesn't have a wife? Tony takes pity on Loki (who completely misses the fact that Don is interested in him) and informs him that Don will definitely agree if Loki asks him out. Loki, who at this point was preoccupied by the fact that he had suddenly met Mobius whom he had completely given up hope of meeting again after the events at TVA, is at first shocked that Tony thought Loki was romantically interested in Mobius. However, he takes his advice as he sees no other option to keep in touch with Mobius and before he knows it he starts dating him.
3 - Loki and Mobius fight a very dangerous variant that jumps through different universes and commits serious crimes on them. It's so serious that TVA has decided that capturing this variant is their top priority. During the fight, Loki and Mobius become separated, and this variant steals Loki's tempad and throws him out of the time door. Loki lands in the middle of Avengers Tower, some time after Thor: The Dark World and Captain America: The Winter Soldier, but before Avengers: Age of Ultron. In this universe, Loki really died, so he wasn't pretending to be Odin. Loki lands right in front of Tony Stark, Rhodey and Maria Hill. Luckily for him, the rest of the Avengers are on a mission at the moment. Loki quickly surrenders, is captured and escorted to a makeshift interrogation room in Hulk's part of the underground. During the interrogation, Tony becomes so worked up that he starts showing Loki photos and informations about people who died during the 2012 attack on New York. Loki tries not to show any emotion on his face, but then he sees Mobius' face among the victims. Tony notices his reaction, but he doesn't know what does that mean. After the interrogation, Tony tries to calm down in his workshop when J.A.R.V.I.S. tells him that something strange is happening in Loki's cell. Tony prepares to fly in guns blazing to stop Loki from escaping, but then he looks into the cameras and sees the same man Loki reacted to earlier walking through a strange orange portal. From that moment on, Tony can't look away and sees and hears their entire conversation. He often doesn't understand it, but from what he sees, Loki can't get over the fact that he killed this man, and the newcomer is trying to calm him down. Elements of this conversation that would be nice to include:
Mobius knows about everything since before (at first he wanted to go where he came from but after pruning he changed his mind? sus. Maybe some other Loki variant returned his memories and this is why Mobius reacts the way he reacts when somebody talks about it)
Mobius doesn't care that Loki killed his variant because he doesn't think his variant at that time was important to Loki and his death is no different from the deaths of other people
Mobius knows about how Loki was being affected by: learning that he was not only adopted but also a frost giant, suicide attempt in 1st Thor, falling into the hands of Thanos and the Other, the influence of the Mind Stone, etc. and how it all contributed to what Loki did
Mobius knows that even Loki who was out of his mind was trying to sabotage the invasion (come on, he can teleport, change his appearance and covert operations are his speciality, but he does everything in the most flashy and dramatic way possible? and Dr Selvig, a weak human managed to oppose the Mind Stone to the point of building an off switch in the portal? sus)
Loki repeats what Mobius told him in the interrogation room during their first meeting ("You were born to cause pain and suffering and death. That's how it is, that's how it was, that's how it will be. All so that others can achieve their best versions of themselves.")
A very strong hug
After listening to this conversation Tony can't go back to hating Loki. When the rest of the Avengers comes back Tony is on the Loki's side and he tries to calm down Thor who is angry, hurt and doesn't like Mobius at all. It would be better if Mobius didn't have children in this fanfic.
(This is a prompt I'm trying to use myself but I don't know if I will finish this story so I decided to give it to you. You are welcome to use it if you want to. Especially because even if I finish it I don't know if I'm ever going to translate it into English - it's not my native language)
Yes, I know most of my prompts have the "sudden realisation of feelings" cliche in it, but I just don't think that with everything going on in the show Mobius and Loki have time to process their feelings. Which is why they need the slow burn story to have the time to:
A - notice how they are feeling, process it, confess and get together.
Or:
B - get together because reasons, notice their feelings, process them and then confess.
I also know that I use Tony Stark a lot in these prompts. You can replace him with any other Avenger if you want.
As usual:
Bonus points if in post season 2 canon complaint stories every member of TVA hates spaghetti with burning passion.
More bonus points for Loki's interactions with various members of the Avengers, Guardians, SHIELD, etc.
Even more bonus points for Lokius slow burn.
Tell me what you think of my ideas!
BTW - I don't have Disney+ and I never watched Loki season 2 🤡 (only the first 4 episodes of season 1.) Most of what I know about the show I know from the internet. I hope my prompts are consistent with the plot.
#lokius#loki series#loki season 2#agent mobius#mobius m mobius#mobius#loki spoilers#loki#loki s2#loki odinson#loki laufeyson#loki of asgard#fanfiction ideas#fanfiction#writing idea#writing prompts#writing prompt#please write this#mcu#tony stark#thor
37 notes
·
View notes
Text
One Day At A Time (Part 3/?)
Jake Seresin x Reader
A/N: More angst, ngl I was listening to Daylight by David Kushner when writing so this got away from me a bit wasn't expecting it to get this dark...
T/W: Anxiety, panic disorder, grief, PTSD, gun violence, torture, murder, prisoner of war, war crimes
Summary: Hangman's POW fiancée attempts a prison break; Javy talks Jake into doing something he doesn't want to do.
Masterlist
Jake POV -
Coyote can talk anyone into anything.
He's somehow convinced everyone to book the day after the mission off work to go to your place, not wanting his best friend to spend another one of your birthdays isolating himself.
Jake pulls up into the driveway and grabs the barbecue supplies from the back of the car before dumping them on the side in the kitchen.
"Wow, when we said let's go to Hangman's I wasn't expecting this." Rooster says entering the house with Phoenix, Bob and Fanboy in tow. All of them blatantly ignore Jake's tear-stained face and glance around in awe at the house.
"I'm not being funny but how on earth have you financed this?" Phoenix questions making Jake laugh. He cannot express the relief that her teasing makes him feel after a morning full of unease.
"Phoenix you cannot ask that!" Rooster gasps giving her a horrified look.
"This place was unbelievably gross when we bought it, It literally makes my skin crawl thinking about our first viewing... It was up for sale so cheap I knew there must've been a reason, other than it being close to base." Jake smiles, "there's no way in hell I would've bought this without Y/N walking around declaring what we should do to it." He elaborates, not having the vision to have done any of the renovation alone.
"Jesus he has a pool!" Fanboy shouts from the other side of the room as the others rush to the window to scrutinise outside. When everyone arrives Jake gives them a quick tour around the house to avoid anyone snooping without his knowledge.
He leaves Bradley to man the barbecue and heads inside to grab a beer. In doing so he watches Phoenix and Bob verbally dissect the photographs on the mantle.
"God she was gorgeous." Phoenix points out to no one in particular, tone sounding impressed that Jake managed to land you.
"She really was." Jake sighs looking at the photo of you at your backseaters wedding, grinning ear to ear at whatever he was saying to you.
God I miss you
"How did you two meet?" Bob queries, stopping Jake before he can spiral into his thoughts.
"Flight school... I wasn't paying attention to where I was walking, she literally knocked me clean off my feet day one. We started arguing and I just thought shit this is the girl version of me." He smirks as he answers.
"God I can't imagine there being two of you out in the world. How would we cope?" Payback winks, making Jake roll his eyes in response.
"Do you usually celebrate her birthday?" Bob asks not really knowing who Hangman is as a person outside of work.
Jake instantly shakes his head. "No she fucking hates -" he starts to answer swiftly cutting himself off. He ignores the bolt of heartache that threatens to shatter him as he realises he needs to correct himself, "-hated her birthday... She never wanted to celebrate it so we always just did something together without anyone else. I don't know why Javy's arranged this." Jake lies not completely oblivious to Coyote's attempt to force him to find closure.
He can't even argue that it's misguided. It's been years and he still needs to correct himself to past tense when talking about you.
Every time he comes home he half expects you to walk through the door after him.
Jake would never say it aloud but every time he comes home, he feels like he's waiting. Permanently waiting for you to get home too.
"You miss her a lot?" Bob continues trying to get a read on him.
Jake nods. "Every single day. She's my first thought when I wake up in the morning, and the last one before I go to sleep."
"Still?" Javy's worried disbelief comes from the doorway.
"Yeah." Jake's lip quivers slightly as he continues to stare at the photograph in Phoenix's hands.
I thought that this would get easier as time goes on - everyone says that - but every day I miss her more than yesterday.
Jake tears his eyes away from your photo and necks the rest of his beer in silence. All he can think about is how he'd give anything to not feel like this anymore.
Unable to shake the torment, Hangman slips out of the living room and heads back outside to argue with Bradshaw.
*
Reader POV -
You're shoved forward by a warden, collapsing onto your knees in the threshold of an outbuilding you've never been in before. Tears well in your eyes from the sheer force that your knees hit the concrete. The tears don't have a chance to fall, as the man hoists you upright forcing you inside.
Anxiety surges in your chest as you look up. You're greeted by blood splattered walls that instantly confirm your thoughts about this building.
This is where they kill people who are no longer useful to them.
You look over at Ghost hoping he will give you a look to convey that he has some form of grand plan for leaving this place. His golden skin looks ashy with sickness, sweat beads on his forehead, and his face is contorted in trepidation.
He doesn't have a plan. Neither of you have a plan.
It feels like someone has sat on your chest with how rapidly short your breathing is becoming, your apprehension is blossoming with every passing second spent in this building.
I do not want to die here.
You silently beg your backseater to look at you, as if meeting his gaze will prompt you to have some form of epiphany. His shoulders are hunched, eyes glued to the floor inaudibly accepting his fate.
He's been trying to convince you that you'll get out every day since you got here, you've told yourself every day that's not possible. Seeing him resigned to this reality sends adrenaline pounding through your body, you're not dying here at least not without a fight.
As the herding stops, you scour the room as best you can without moving, eyes flickering between all of the red covered rooms as you search for anything at all that you might be able to grab to attack the wardens with.
Fuck, this is hopeless.
We're as good as dead.
The rooms are almost completely empty.
There is nothing, not one single thing, here that we can use as a weapon, you realise.
Your thoughts of giving up are abruptly halted the millisecond after they form, as you watch the warden on your left shift his right arm towards a gun strapped to his waist. He's the prick who pushed you.
Somehow through the endless cries of the people around you, you hear the unmistakeable sound of gun safetys being removed. The fallacy that you've created of this place having some vague sense of security or solidarity among prisoners is shattered when the first round of gunfire begins.
You feel your stomach start to churn as people try to shield behind others. The sequential bout of nausea that washes over you is unignorable.
Your whole body traitorously reacts to the commotion, your rigid tension melting away to a whole body tremor. You've never been in the situation where you feel your knees shake with genuine well-placed terror before.
You've got to pull your shit together y/n. You mentally slap yourself trying to fight your inner anxiety away, needing to think rationally to decide your next move.
Without debating the consequences, you shove the warden next to you into the wall behind him with all the strength you can muster. He's thrown off guard, obviously not expecting any resistance. After his minute stumble allows you to take his weapon, he straightens up hand instantly moving to become a vice on your arm. He twists your arm in an attempt to throw you off balance. You do not shift even an inch, feet firmly planted on the ground. You're so deep in your fight or flight response that you barely even feel the motion that you expected to floor you.
The wardens are so focused on obliterating prisoners that they don't recognise the screams of their own as out of the ordinary, so you continue resisting.
When all of the wardens are down, you allow yourself to properly glance around the prisoners in the room.
Everyone looks broken beyond repair, most of them are bleeding.
Even if you got everyone out, you're not sure who among you is strong enough to live with this.
Ghost looks like a shell of himself
Ignoring that thought, you turn your attention to him, "I want to go home" you state croakily, arms still shaking as you lower the gun.
"There's no way out of here." Ghost reiterates, agitation plaguing his voice. It took the two of you, four days of recon to figure that escape was not at all possible from where they keep normal prisoners.
"Listen to your boyfriend Miss America." One of the wardens chuckles from his place on the floor, momentarily pulling your focus to watch him hold pressure on the bullet wound on his leg.
"Then we die trying." You instruct your back seater, before opening up your invite to everyone else.
A fail looking man that you bumped into earlier, shoves a boy in your direction quickly saying something to him in a language you don't understand.
There are kids here? A shudder runs through your body at the thought of children being exposed to this. No one should be exposed to this, especially not little kids.
The man turns to face you, opening his mouth to say something when a bullet rings out. You grab the kid shielding his eyes before he can see his potential father figure drop to the floor.
A warden sniggers from the floor as you stand glued to the spot in horror and disbelief that anyone would be that insanely cruel.
"Go." Someone chokes out, moving to shield you.
*************************************************************
Part 2 for those who missed it
Part 4
A/N: I promise I'll listen to something happier and write some fluff soon
#jake seresin#tgm#top gun#jake hangman seresin#jake hangman fic#hangman imagine#hangman x reader#hangman angst#top gun au#top gun x reader#top gun hangman
125 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
daymio89
weird, yet funny
person25
idk anymore
mrsinghcab
Untitled
madmax1
Untitled
silvr-skreen
Primadonna Girl