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eddiernunson · 1 year ago

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The Taste of You | Modern Rockstar!Eddie Munson x Fem Reader | 18 +

Word Count: 8.1k

Summary: after attending a successful and rather sweaty concert from Corroded Coffin, you send the front man a rather thirsty DM on his instagram. You wake up to his response...and an offer to go backstage to follow through.

Warnings: lowkey unrealistic, alcohol, oral (f + m receiving), marking, begging (both), no protection, cream pie, use of aftercare

MINORS DNI

Based on my friend @bebe07011 going to a concert and DM'ing one of the band members (who looks a lot like Eddie) about how much she was enthralled by his performance and him responding back. This one's for you <3

Thank you so much to @forget-you-morelike-fuck-you again for editing, you're my lifesaver.

You lean on the counter at work, distracted by your Instagram feed. Well, not distracted, per se. There are several more productive things you could be doing, but with your manager out on an errand and no customers to serve, there isn’t really anything stopping you. A post from Corroded Coffin comes up, a few images from their latest stop on tour. You can hardly prevent an excited squeal from escaping your lips, scrolling through their images, and rereading the end of the post over and over. ‘See you next, Indiana!’

You’ve been looking forward to this since buying tickets at the announcement of their tour nearly four months ago. It’s been a summer of anticipation; each post a countdown to your own concert date.

You discovered Corroded Coffin through suggestions from Spotify, the algorithm having picked up on your tastes in rock music and suggested a more modern band. Their music is good, you discovered. Their first album Freaks in the Streets came out about two years ago, and it’s raw in its talent but their latest album, Hell’s on Fire (And So Are You) shot them into stardom. You had it on repeat for months, and their lead guitarist being hot as he was had nothing to do with your fixation.

Okay, discovering Eddie Munson, (said lead guitarist) the main lyricist on the album, had everything to do with your fixation. Every late-night TV host offered a slot for them to play their music and Eddie’s charisma as he cheekily answers questions about his off-putting lyrics drove you into over-excitement mode. You can still hardly believe you're going to be able to watch his sweaty chest perform live.

Your concert date is tomorrow, and you have everything set up. You booked it off from work, got the perfect outfit, and the tickets are waiting on your apple wallet. You set your phone down, locking it. As always, the phone lights up when it faces up and you catch the image of the glistening sweat on Eddie’s chest during a performance from a tweet that went viral a few weeks ago, a photo you immediately saved for your phone. God, he’s mouthwatering. There were several hundred women in the retweets praising him as well, so, of course, there’s no chance in hell.

But it’s nice to fantasize.

You sit comfortably in the level 100 seats, dressed in a somewhat alternative outfit, high waisted black shorts with a fringe hanging off them, a chain on your belt loops, and a ripped crop top with the bands logo you found in an urban clothing store. You hold a beer in one hand and your phone in the other, recording the opening act as they sing to an audience that is only half paying attention.

Luckily, you know some of their songs on their short 8-song setlist, half-heartedly singing along but saving your voice for the main act. Though, you know your heart isn’t in it when you notice the placement of the jewels you glued to your temple is awkward. When you squint your eyes in a certain way they seem to threaten to fall off. Whatever, they were dollar store jewels, anyway.

The band finishes their less than overwhelming act, thanking the audience, and teasing them with the fact that the main act is backstage and apparently excited to put a show on for their home state. Somehow, it keeps escaping you that you happen to live about 60 miles away from where Eddie Munson grew up, Hawkins, Indiana. That place certainly had a reputation for itself.

You make small talk with your best friend, who is as excited as ever, if anything, to see your face when you melt to the floor. Natalie isn’t into their music like you are, but she can admit that their music is objectively good. Free concert and the power to tease you? Natalie is SO in. “What outfit you think he’s gonna wear tonight?” You shrug, sipping some wheat water. You don’t like beer, but the venue’s options when it comes to alcohol are…limited to say the least. Natalie leans in to you. “You think he’s gonna wear a shirt this time?”

You elbow her, your cheeks heating up. Some places he wears a shirt, and it’s a day of tragedy. Some places he comes out with his chest already bare, and it’s pure heaven. Although, he is known to rip a shirt off occasionally, and you have far too many videos of that saved on your phone. “I don’t know. We’ll find out when he comes out.”

You’re in the middle of a conversation about the politics of the latest show you’re watching together and the lights go down. An electric guitar is heard but out of sight. Subconsciously, you grab your friend’s forearm as your eyes widen in anticipation, your ass literally hovering on your chair as you’re at the edge of your seat. You hear her laugh, but you can’t focus as the lights on stage dramatically light up two at a time, and out of nowhere you can see the four band members, Eddie second to the left. Oh god, he’s wearing an open jacket with a metal chain. Holy shit.

You’re on your feet and screaming lyrics before you even know it.

The night goes by in a blur, and none of the videos you’ve seen online do Corroded Coffin any justice. Their online stage presence is unstoppable. And while Eddie was a large part of the crowd draw in, you watch as he interacts with each band member, using their energy to amplify his own. He really couldn’t do this without them, which is why he’s so insistent in every interview he’s given. Halfway through the show, Eddie does a quick run backstage, claiming his jacket was ‘too fucking hot’ and when he comes out in a fishnet shirt, the crowd goes absolutely nuts.

You sit in the back of a cab, buzzed and rewatching the multiple videos you’ve taken repeatedly, smiling giddily to yourself. “That was such a good show.” You mumble to yourself, sipping from the drink you promised to the cab driver you wouldn’t spill from. You’re so drunk you barely even notice the taste of the beer anymore.

The cab driver pulls up to the hotel and you drunkenly climb out, handing him four 20-dollar bills on the way, making sure he’s tipped well for having to put up with your drunk ass. He doesn’t seem to mind too much, but then again, you’re too busy rewatching your thirst caught in 4K to even notice. God damn, the video really doesn’t put his glistening chest any justice. It was even better in person. If you could just lick up his chest, you knew every problem in your life would be solved.

Your best friend laughs behind you, escorting you to the hotel room. As the hotel room door opens you just want to climb into bed and scroll through your phone, but Natalie makes you wipe off your make up and get dressed into some pajamas. You check your Instagram, Corroded Coffin’s post from tonight at the top of the feed. There were some high-quality shots of him in his fishnet shirt that you immediately save, going over to Eddie Munson’s personal Instagram from where he’s tagged in the post.

God, he must get hundreds of DMs in a day. One raindrop doesn’t affect the ocean. I wanna lick the sweat off your chest so fucking bad just gimme a chance. Your thumb hovers over the send button, but you’ve sent several messages to celebrities before, and they never respond. So, you hit send, and you’re asleep within minutes, your lamp still lit next to you as the water from the shower in the bathroom less than ten feet away from you lulls you into a deep sleep.

Your 10AM alarm rings, yanking you out of a deep sleep. If you could, you’d spend the next ten hours sleeping to shake off the hangover, but you've gotta get up to have time to pack up and get changed before check out. You can shower tonight at home. As you sit up on your bed, dismissing the alarm, the headache kicks in, making you groan. Oh, fuck, are you hungover.

You check your phone quickly, and as you scroll down your notifications, you triple check a notification just to make sure you’re reading it right. At first, you’re confused. Why would he be messaging you? Your eyes widen as you promptly yeet your phone to your friend's bed when you remember what the fuck you sent to him last night. You curl in on yourself with your knees up against your chest and your hands over your mouth in disbelief.

Natalie comes out of the bathroom after hearing your phone bounce off the bed and land on the floor. “Whoa,” Natalie breathes, seeing your stunned stature. “Are you okay?”

You shake your head, shellshocked.

“Okay, can you at least tell me what happened? You’re kind of freaking me out here.”

“I sent a really, really thirsty message to Eddie Munson last night and I saw a notification saying he responded.” You admit, no higher than a whisper.

“What?!” Natalie nearly shouts, a bit loud in the quiet morning of the small hotel. “Well then open it and read it! What did he say?”

“I’m scared too look!” You admit, grabbing a pillow and holding it close to your chest.

Natalie grabs your pillow and tosses it to the side, her wet blonde hair shining prettily in the morning sun. “Get up, you big baby! Open the goddamn message!”

Fuck, Natalie’s right. Doesn’t mean you liked it. You bend to pick your phone up, sitting next to her on the bed as you open your Instagram notification. Fuck, he responded only fifteen minutes after your message. “Oh you sent him a very thirsty message.”

“Look what the fuck he wrote back.” You whisper, eyes wide as your heart pounds out of your chest.

apricothamster147: I wanna lick the sweat off your chest so fucking bad just gimme a chance.

eddiemunson: Well, damn baby, are you still in town for tonight’s show? Come backstage and we’ll see about making that happen. (Send me ur email for tix)

“Holy shit.” Natalie mutters out loud, her eyes bugging to his response as well. “Well? Are you gonna accept?”

You chortle, holding your hand out to her comically. “Do you have enough money for another night?”

Natalie shrugs. “I have my dad’s credit card.”

“Are you allowed to use it?”

“Only when I need it.”

“Shit.”

“Honestly, girl, you need it. Go ahead, send him your email, I’ll get us another night.”

Your thumbs move fast, hoping his offer wasn’t due to a lack of sobriety or a glitch in the Matrix. If you’re still accepting my offer, my email is [email protected]. You add a heart emoji just to be safe and send off a message to him.

Your best friend is in the middle of a phone call with her father to get him to call the front desk. They would only accept the credit card if they could speak to him. “Thank you!” Natalie hangs the phone up, looking at you. “Hotel is taken care of!”

You’re lying on your bed at this point, still in your pajamas with your palms stacked on your forehead. “What the fuck am I even gonna wear?”

“You brought multiple outfits, right?” Natalie asks you, sitting on her bed and laying down now that she no longer has to get ready to leave.

“Yeah, I brought some back-ups.” You sit up quickly, eyes wide. “I need your expertise in styling it, though. I have to look hot.”

Natalie sits up as well, serious as she can be. “Oh sweetheart, he won’t know what hit him.”

An hour into her crusade, styling your hair, your phone lights up in a notification. Your phone is closer to her, so you ask her to check it, Natalie knows your passcode, anyway. You know what it is immediately based on the expression you see on her face in the mirror. “Did he respond?”

“Yes!” Natalie answers, placing the hot tool down and putting the freed hand over her mouth.

“Oh my god, gimme that!” You respond, too impatient to wait for her to calm down.

eddiemunson: See you tonight (with a winky emoji)

“Oh my fucking god.” You let out, and suddenly it occurs to you that you’re seeing him in concert again. There’s even a slight possibility of you meeting him, however slim that he may remember to even do it.

A notification from your gmail rings, and you see ticketmaster. You hit it hard, seeing First Name, ‘Unknown’ Last Name, ‘Stranger’ has gifted you two VIP Floor Tickets with Back Stage passes, apparently just scanning the barcode will get you backstage. No. It wasn’t…no. This isn’t real. You stared off into the distance, eyes up from your phone. This doesn’t happen…

“Babe!”

You’re snapped out of it, realizing you zoned out in disbelief. “I’m just…a little in shock.”

Natalie smirks at you, tilting your chin on her fingertips gracefully. “Well now we know it’s fucking real, so let’s party hard, babe!”

Your eyes roll at her antics, but you love them. “Thanks for asking your dad.”

“Bitch, what’s a rich daddy good for if not for my friends?” Natalie laughs, starting to use the iron on your hair again.

Your makeup is done, rhinestones on the inner corners of your eyes, and you're wearing fishnet tights under a jean skirt and an oversized Corroded Coffin band tee. You usually used it as a sleep shirt, but Natalie insists it would work its magic.

Butterflies invade your stomach as soon as your black boots hit the pavement outside the hotel, the sunset cascading across the sky in a beautiful haze of orange and pink. As your thighs feel uncomfortable against the fabric of the cab, you hope your insides will feel as nice as the outside looks right now.

You pay your cab, all on the card, and get out, your stomach in knots. Well, it's now or never. Hesitantly, you hold your phone out for your ticket scanner on the main floor and she approves, giving you the thumbs up. “Wait.” the ticket scanner holds her hands out when she notices the big red letters, BACKSTAGE PASSES. You think you’re in trouble when you’re both handed the Backstage Pass Lanyards, decorated with the Corroded Coffin logo.

This is where you start to believe that you might’ve died last night with alcohol poisoning because there’s no way in Gods’ Green Earth is this real.

You both thank the attendant and walk to your seats, front and center, third row back. You could see the scratches on the sticker on the speakers from the inspector in the factory. Damn, were you close. “We’re going to go deaf.” Natalie comments, a half smile on your face. “Need a drink?”

“Please.” You answer, eyes wide. Natalie laughs and gets up to walk towards the bar, which is much less crowded around in the VIP section of the floor. Fucking wild.

You hold your phone and sing along to some more of the opening act's songs tonight, now gaining some familiarity with it. They’re great musicians, but they’re just not on Corroded Coffin’s level yet. They definitely have the potential to get there.

Their set list ends, and you notice that the lead singer is close enough for you to see the beads of sweat on his forehead.

Oh god, you’re going to die.

Natalie tries to keep you entertained by chatting about anything she can, but it does so little to prevent time from crawling by at a snail's pace.

Your phone buzzes in your hand, and it’s a message from him. Wish Me Luck! You swear up and down it’s immediately after when the lights go down and the guitar starts playing off stage. Did he really just text you right before he started his show? Did that really just happen?

If there’s one thing about being in the third row with little to no one to block your view, it’s that no amount of high quality photos on twitter will ever amount to the real thing less than ten feet away. The sweat that drips down his leather vest for the night is mouth watering, the dark eyes in his expression as he performs hypnotizes you. You sing the lyrics, and jump and dance and occasionally drink, but no matter how hard you try, you can’t tear your gaze away from him.

And for a few moments, it’s like he holds your eye contact. No, that’s crazy. Nothing is happening. He has a million other girls to choose from, why would he choose you?

The concert happens in a blur, Eddie flings off the vest about halfway through the show, splashing some of his hair with his sweat. Your friend laughs at the sharp inhale that leaves your chest as you watch it. Man, he really had you in his clutches.

Eddie holds his arms out for his band as they close off the last song, all bowing together. “Thank you, Indiana! You’ve been a fucking fantastic crowd, thank you!”

“You ready?” Natalie asks you, holding out her lanyard cheekily.

“Nope.” You admit, taking a large gulp of the beer you barely touched. “After another beer I might be.”

“You really wanna meet him tipsy?” Natalie asks, raising her eyebrows at you.

“I don’t wanna be afraid to say anything!” You shoot back, leading her to the bar. You buy another one, and it’s down your throat within five minutes. You inhale deeply, wiping your face off from the excess beer around your mouth. “Does my mouth smell like beer?” You ask, suddenly worried.

“If you have to ask, I think you already know.” Natalie tells you, patting your back and leading you to the sign that says BACKSTAGE in all caps with an arrow pointing left.

A big security personnel blocks the big black curtain to the backstage area. You hold out your lanyard to him, and he gruffs as he holds his hand out for it. He takes a scanner to check out its legitimacy, and once both lanyards are in the clear, his face breaks into a smile, stepping aside to allow you through. It's almost comical.

The backstage area is busier than you had expected, arrows pointing you to where the visitors go, narrowly avoiding the crew as they bustle around. You both walk into a large area where several band members talk to friends or family, all sporting towels to dab their sweat away.

“Oh my god thank you for sending that DM.” Natalie whispers to you, looking around while starstruck. “I’m sure half these people aren’t even celebrities, but this is so cool! I’m going to go and mingle, you stick around for—”

You grab her by the collar, “Don’t you dare leave me alone here.”

“Ok, how bout we both grab some food? Maybe sober up?”

“Only because I’m hungry and free food tastes the best.”

You’re slowly picking at the fruit tray when you hear someone near you call out, “Eddie! My man!” You turn around to face him, the half-eaten strawberry you drop landing on the plastic tray loudly. You quickly finish the fruit and watch as he hugs his bandmate. “What, no shower, bro? You stink!”

The room echoes in laughter, and you join them. He does stink, and he stinks marvelously. The very scent makes you salivate. His laughter, it’s even better in person. He’s never laughed like this in any interview, all calm and toned down for the camera. This is genuine, heartfelt laughter.

You turn around to lean on the table, Jesus you need to calm yourself. Seeing him up close is sending a heat to your center that you're going to need to resolve quickly.

“Fancy seeing you, here.” His voice sends a shiver down your spine, barely five feet away. You turn and face him, your breath knocking out of your chest. Words cannot describe how little all of the photos in the world do him any justice. He is the most gorgeous man you’ve ever seen.

“Thanks for i-inviting me.” You answer, gulping at the slight shine his sweat still gives him. “You’re a really great performer…” You find yourself distracted by his chest. He’s probably going to get all sticky soon… he smelled even better up close…

“I’m gonna go mingle.” Natalie says, pointing towards a crowd of people talking to the band members. “Text me to let me know if you’re meeting me at the hotel.” Natalie gives a shy smile to Eddie and walks away before you could answer.

“Thank you.” He nods his head, giving you a smirk. Then, the unthinkable happens as he uses his thumb and pointer finger to lift your chin to capture your eyes with his own. How are they so pretty? “Are you going to make do on your promise?”

You gulp, your eyes flickering down to his pink lips. You’ve stared at his lips, how many times now? You nod slowly, peering up at him through your lashes.

“Let’s go somewhere a bit more quiet, then.” He offers, extending his hand for you.

You take it silently, his rough hands feeling warm and rough, but perfect. He leads you about ten steps down the hall, a doorway marked with his name over the words Dressing Room. As the door shuts behind him, he locks it, flinging his towel across the room. “C’mere.” He offers, extending his hand to you. You follow his instructions, sitting next to him on the couch. “You haven’t said a goddamn word, yet your message said fucking everything. Is the pretty girl shy?” He asks, thumb caressing your cheek.

You nod your head, gulping as his touch lights your skin on fire. “I—I was six drinks in when I sent you that message. …I wouldn’t have even remembered unless you replied.” You admit, leaning into his touch.

“C’mon baby, let’s see it.” You raise your eyebrows, inquisitively, wondering what he meant. “Your message! Couldn’t stop thinking about my after-show treat all day, a pretty girl begging to lick up my sweat. Show me.”

You nod to him, your near trembling hands reaching out for his chest. Eddie nods, a wild look in his eyes that nearly has you passing out. A loud exhale leaves your body as your hands reach out and reach contact with his chiseled, tattooed, chest, some sweat beads still lingering. How, you weren’t sure. Your eyes rake across his chest, taking in every tattoo you can, your heartbeat racing faster as you lean in, to finally, finally, rake your tongue up from his stomach to his chest, breathing heavily when the taste of the salt and his pure essence is even better than you imagined.

“Holy shit, she’s a fucking freak.” Eddie mutters, you feel his breath getting shallower under your mouth working on him.

You lean in again, nails digging into his skin as you give another long stripe across his skin, the taste of salt and delicious B.O. on your tongue and you let out a sigh of contentment. You crawl up to his collarbones, having noticed a pool of his sweat there gathered while he was performing.

Your tongue slides into the dip, moaning at the salty taste. Your teeth graze the bone, nibbling a little to leave little tiny bruises. You can’t wait to save the HQ pictures with these marks.

You leave one last long stripe on his treasure trail, having stared at many photos where his pants sit low. You’re nuzzling at it, breathing it in when you can feel him. Holy shit, Eddie Munson’s cock is only inches from your face.

You look up at him, and the back of his palms are connected to his forehead, his cheeks flushed, and his chest heavily breathing. He looks down to meet your gaze, and suddenly he sits up, grabs your face and plants a wet kiss to your lips. Your entire body tenses up, barely able to believe that it's real. Your brain eventually catches up, responding in kind, crawling so your bodies fit closer. Eddie pushes you back lightly before you get too close, having you lie down on his couch.

“Can I, sweetheart?” He asks, moving down to where your cunt has been begging for attention.

“A-are you sure? I don’t mind just sucking you off.”

He chuckles, leaning in for another kiss. “Oh baby, you just earned so much more than that.”

Eddie trails down your body, placing kisses on your exposed neck, lifting your shirt lightly as his hands move to cup your tits. You whimper in kind. “Baby, do you know what it’s like having the most gorgeous woman in the world offer to lick sweat off you? If you just give her a chance? I saw your picture you posted from the concert and fuck, you’re a goddamn smoke show. Those eyes, your gorgeous tits, your thighs, oh my god, baby, your thighs.” He talks through wet kisses trailing down your body until he’s face to face with your jean skirt.

He pulls twice, asking permission. You place your hands on your button to undo it and Eddie playfully swats your hands away. Your skirt is pulled off your body, leaving the fishnet tights and your thoroughly soaked panties. He leans in between your thighs, and your thigh muscles slightly convulse as you feel his hot breath against it. “Shh, haven’t even touched you yet, baby.” He hushes you, his big hands gracing your thighs gently. He leans in and you can’t tell what he’s doing until he starts pulling down, and you notice one of the strings from the tights in his mouth. He can’t seem to pull them off like he wants to, and after a last try he gets frustrated, ripping them off, instead. “There, that’s fucking better.”

You let out a tiny giggle, and then you feel so exposed to him, your lacy panties drenched as he stares between your legs.

If you told yourself this would be happening 24 hours ago you’d call yourself insane…or a silly goose. You were incredibly inebriated.

He flings the fishnets across the room and reaches out to touch your soaked panties, the touch inducing a whimper from you. “You’re soaked, huh, baby?” He murmurs, petting along your panties gingerly. You whimper in response, your hips lifting to meet his delicate touch more firmly. He chuckles, watching your face all scrunched up. “If you want me to touch you, beg for it.”

“Eddie, fucking touch me please, want it so bad.”

“Yeah, you want me to fuck you with my fingers, baby?”

You nod, starting to hopelessly grind your hips up. “So fucking bad, please.”

He smiles, watching the outline of your pussy as you get wetter. Without warning, he hooks his fingers around your waist band and tugs it down, and suddenly you find yourself exposing your pussy to the man who took most of your gallery's storage space on your phone. The way he looks at your pussy is damn divine. His eyes darken with lust, pink lips shine with spit, and his cheeks flush; it makes you want to close your legs in embarrassment.

They stay open, because you’re afraid to move, this must be a dream. This is too fucking good to be real.

“Fuck, I knew your pussy would be pretty, but I didn’t know a pussy could be this fucking gorgeous, look at you.” He rambles, you’re not sure if he’s talking to you or your pussy. He places a thumb gently on your slick, stroking lightly up and down, the sensation sending fire rippling across your skin. He sees your thigh shake the littlest bit. “Feel good?”

It does, but you want so much more from him. “Mmm hmm.” You answer, toes flexing with anticipation.

“Do you need something?” He asks, stroking your lips too lightly, not necessarily getting closer to anything. He just narrowly avoids your clit, watching you squirm as your eyebrows furrow lightly.

“I need more-I need more.” You choke out, your hips desperately rutting against his fingers. “I want you to touch me harder, or move faster, I need more.”

Eddie chuckles, hardly believing how much better you had turned out to be. “You need more? Okay, sure. I can give more.” He leans in to lick a stripe right on your neglected clit, and your hips rut up in surprise, a yelp of pleasure jumping out of your throat. It doesn’t even phase Eddie, now that he's tasted you, he doesn’t want to let go. “How do you taste so fucking good?” He asks, his voice low and husky. “Doesn’t make any fucking sense, this should be a fucking crime.”

You moan, hips grinding up against him, head back in pure ecstasy. “Your sweat shouldn't taste so good. I could bottle it like ketchup and eat it on everything.” You admit, your fingers flexing as a wave of heat runs right through you.

Eddie barely lets up, even as the sentence makes his eyes roll into the back of his head. He pumps one of his digits into you, a ringed finger, no less. Your jaw drops as he fucks into you, the hot pool of pleasure in your stomach starting to form. It's the best this has ever felt by a long shot.

Eddie continues to attack you, adding a second finger as his tongue swirls over your clit repeatedly. “Eddie…fuck…so good.” You can barely talk, your bliss radiating in every extremity. “K…Keep doi’ tha’…”

He stares up at pride at your cocked out expression, panting heavily as you feel yourself on the brink. Out of nowhere Eddie picks up his speed into hyperdrive, and you fucking keel over him, high whines escaping your throat as one hand flies into his hair and the other on the couch’s arm rest to keep you grounded.

The orgasm hits you slowly but leaves your thighs shaking underneath him in its wake. It's the best goddamn orgasm you’ve ever had. Eddie continues to place kisses on your pussy, licking up your cum from your entrance, seemingly quite satisfied with his hard work.

You're breathing heavily, looking up at him desperately through half open eyes. “You have to let me suck your cock, please Ed.”

He gives you a half smirk, you’re barely recovered and you’re begging to suck his dick? Did he win the lottery? “No, I need to feel that perfect pussy wrapped around my cock before I cum from the sounds you’re making, alone.”

You lift your heavy head up in confusion. “Sounds?”

“Have you heard what you sound like when you cum? If I had the patience, I’d be making you cum here, all night, but I fucking don’t. I need to know what the fuck your pussy feels like.” Eddie admits, and his voice sounds desperate.

You let your head fall back down, your legs falling down in unison, spread eagle. You shoot a smirk at him. “What if I told you to beg for it?”

“Hmm?” Eddie asks, and you see a light flicker on in his eyes.

“Beg for my pussy, Eddie. Wanna hear that pretty voice.”

Eddie grins widely, fuck, you just keep getting better. “Please, baby. Please. Let me fuck that tight, perfect pussy of yours. Please let me feel those hot, warm walls fucking pulse around me while I give it to you hard and well, just like she deserves.”

It's more than you could ever hope for, but you find yourself feeling greedy. “Hmm…not desperate enough. You don’t really sound like you want to fuck me all that badly.”

To this Eddie actually whines and groans in frustration. “C’mon, baby, please. Let me fuck you, I will do anything to feel that perfect cunt around my cock.”

Your legs hitch around his hips, pulling him in so his hard on in his jeans meets your bare pussy. You lean into his ear, inhaling his shampoo. “If you let me mark up your neck so I can have all those petty bitches be jealous of me at your next show, then go right ahead.”

“Oh, fuck, deal.” Eddie yanks his belt and his jeans and underwear off in one fell swoop, and the sight of his cock is better than anything you could’ve imagined. He kicks them off smoothly, lining himself up with you again in a matter of minutes. “Shit, you want a condom?” He asks, used to fucking bare back.

“I’m on birth control.” You tell him as he hovers over you.

“Oh that’s a good girl.” He mutters, leaning in to kiss at your neck. “You ready?”

“Fuck me, already, Ed, I’ve been ready since this morning.” Eddie chuckles and he slides himself in, the head of his cock burning only slightly, but feeling fantastic. “Oh, oh my god.”

“Fuck…” He grunts, waiting for your go ahead. “Better than I thought you’d feel. God, is this heaven?”

You giggle in response, your pussy pulsating around him in beat. “Your cock…so fucking full.” Eddie lifts his hips experimentally, and you let out a gasp at the burn and the pure pleasure it sends through you. “More.” You choke out when he doesn’t continue right away.

Eddie doesn’t hesitate to listen to your request, your arms wrapped around his back as you clutch onto him for dear life. He ruts into you harshly, his hips snapping as it hits your g spot intentionally at every rut.

Your mouth seems like it’s trying to form words, but your head is so foggy by the time you open your mouth, the sentence is nowhere to be found. “Look at this cock drunk little slut.” Eddie laughs, watching your fucked out face.

Your hands tug on him, forcing his chest closer to your mouth. He lets his arms buckle down, slowing his pace down as his face finds refuge in the smell of your hair, while you start sucking lightly on his chest, leaving little bite marks. As you suck on his chest, your pussy sucks him in simultaneously, causing Eddie to moan from both sensations you were giving him.

Eventually, you have purpled your way across his chest, admiring your hard work as he continues moving slowly over you. “Eddie, can you go faster again?”

“Sure, baby. Be a good girl and turn onto your hands and knees.” You listen and turn around, tilting your ass up so it’s easy for him to slide in. “Oh, thank you, baby. Now lift your head up.” You do and he yanks on your hair, pulling a good chunk at the root. “That’s good.” He puts himself back in you, causing a guttural moan to leave your lips.

“Eddie…” You gasp out, the first hit surprisingly harsh against your hips. Not a part of you remotely minds, eyes rolling back in ecstasy as Eddie seemingly fucks you as hard as he can.

“You wanna still blow me, baby? Because I’m about to blow…” Eddie doesn’t have to say another word, you getting up and onto your knees on his animal carpet to wrap your lips around his cock and bob your head. “Use that pretty mouth…”

The feeling of you choking on it, your mouth desperately trying to take his whole length sends him over the edge. Eddie moans loudly, and you do everything you can to memorize this moment for the rest of your life, because nothing will top this.

Your mouth is overloaded with his thick cum, and one last load shoots out of him onto your face as your mouth pops off him, and ok, now nothing will top this.

He’s breathing heavily, staring down at the white shiny substance that made it’s way all over your nose and lips, some dripping down your chin to land on your tits. You start to gather it on your fingers, dipping it onto your tongue like it’s donut frosting. You hum to yourself at the salty taste, looking up at him through your eyelashes for approval.

“Shit, ain’t that a sight.” Eddie mutters, watching as you hopelessly attempt to clean yourself up before his cum goes everywhere. “Here, hold on.” Eddie yanks on a pair of low sweats and grabs something, walking towards the sink in the dressing room. He walks up to you and cleans his mess off your face and your tits, his hands behind the warm cloth gentle. He tosses it to god knows where and grabs one of the waters from his mini fridge.

He hands you the water and watches you as you slowly come back to yourself, the haze in your eyes raising. Your phone buzzes on the table next to the couch, and Eddie picks up the phone to give it to you and you call out to stop him a moment too late.

Eddie raises his eyebrows at your choice of wallpaper, it couldn’t be interpreted as anything other than thirst. The sweat glistening, his hand holding the microphone delicately, his face looking rather passionate about what he was singing about. Damn, that's a good photo, Eddie thinks. “So, did I just check something off your bucket list?” He asks, holding your phone out before tossing it to you.

You get up from your knees on wobbly legs, still needing some water, apparently. “Uh,” you take a sip, wondering how to answer as a wide smile settles on your face. On the one hand, you’re embarrassed. On the other, he had to know how viscerally thirsty you were after him. “No. I just did my bucket list.” You answer, taking another sip of your water as you stand in front of him, still head to toe naked. “Didn’t think I’d get this far.”

Eddie laughs at this, the same genuine laughter you heard from earlier.

You walk around the couch, bending over to locate your skirt.

“Lookin' for something?” Eddie asks, playfully pushing your buttons.

“My skirt…” you answer, peering across the room at this point.

“Can I be honest?” He asks, peering over your shoulder comically as you look around.

“Hmm?”

Eddie’s hands land your bare hips, tugging them backward so his boner hits your ass. “I could go for round 2.”

“Oh, thank fuck.” You whisper, turning around to face him. Eddie guides you, your steps messy as you back up to his vanity, a few brushes and the eyeliner he sports scattered. He lifts you easily onto it, your legs wrapping around his torso, pulling him in. You can’t tell when he removed his sweats, but the head of his cock unexpectedly against your heat already pulls a high whine out of you, sighing in relief. “Put it back in.”

“Fuck, don’t need to ask me twice.” He mumbles, lining himself up.

Your jaw drops as he pushes himself in, watching with a heavy chest as Eddie stares down at the sight of his cock entering your slick, a gulp leaving his mouth. “Holy shit, baby.” He mutters, exhaling as he bottoms out, his eyes closing. “How have I already forgotten how good your pussy is around me?”

Your breathing is shallow, watching with heavy eyelids as Eddie closes his eyes to seemingly gain his composure. “Eddie.” You whimper, your legs around his torso tightening. “You’re the…the hottest person I’ve literally ever seen in my life. Nothing will compare to this.”

You can feel his cock twitch in response, and you flutter around him as if to second it.

“Good.” Eddie grunts out, moving ever so slowly, eliciting a whimper from you. “Nothing better fucking compare, your pussy is too good for that shit.” His tongue sweeps a long lick in the crook of your neck, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as it feels dirty, in the best way. “May I return the favour?”

You’re about to ask when you realize his question is rhetorical, and you feel his teeth start to nibble, bite, and suck hard at your throat. He feels you suck him in as you breathe out little whimpers, the relief of his tongue against your skin followed by more stinging of his teeth working on you was everything, your nails scratching down his back in an involuntary response.

“Eddie…” you moan, head tilted back in ecstasy, nearly colliding with his mirror. “Fuck, you feel so good.”

“Baby, fuck.” He mutters, his breath hot against your neck. “I wanna mark you up everywhere.” You fucking tighten up in response, drawing a nearly cruel laugh from him. “Yeah? You like that?”

“Uh huh…” You admit, the feeling of his hips slowly drawing in and out of you and his hot breath on your chest becoming too much, but perfect at the same time.

His tongue makes its way further down to your tit, one hand rubbing your sternum desperately as his teeth work expertly on your bud. He’s not too harsh with it, knows the exact amount of pressure to make it hurt in the best fucking way. “So fucking pretty, baby.” He mutters, his hips starting at a faster rate. He lets off your tit with a pop after sucking on it gently, admiring the bruising that’s starting to take shape across your sweaty form.

You can do nothing but cling to him, all coherent thoughts gone the moment he started sucking on your collarbone sharply.

“Got any…any summer plans?” Eddie asks, out of breath. He moves a leg over his shoulder to get a better angle, deeper than before.

You let out a gasp of pleasure, the sound nearly feral. “Y-you.”

Eddie laughs, his ringed hand rough as he grabs at your thigh on his chest. “Oh fuck baby, I’m close again, your pussy is so fucking good.”

“Cum in me.” It almost sounds like you're begging.

Eddie’s eyebrows shoot up to his forehead, his jaw dropping comically as he takes in your request. “Fuck, you sure?”

“Want you to fill me up, Eddie. Please.” You plead, and who is he to deny such a pretty girl?

“Gonna cum with me, pretty girl?” He asks, watching in marvel as you look more and more cocked out. You pull on him, yanking his lips to yours. You kiss him wantonly, deeply, all teeth and tongue as you do your best to express what you cannot with words. You don’t have a big enough vocabulary for the moment, anyhow. Eddie takes the lead and tugs on your bottom lip with his teeth, drawing a high whine out of you. “Gonna answer me?”

The edge is so close, an all encompassing heat invading your lower stomach as a palm of his hand toys with one of your nipples. Suddenly you’re aware this could be the last time you ever get the chance, so you sweep one last lick on his chest, lapping at the fresh coat of sweat like it was your first drink of water after a long week in the desert.

“Oh, fuck, I’m gonna—” He doesn’t even finish his sentence, his hips stuttering as you feel his sticky ropes of cum fill you up so deliciously.

In his haze, his fingers latch to your clit, expertly working on it in small circles to send you over your edge as well, your pussy fluttering perfectly around him.

The smell of sex in his dressing room is evident, the air thick as you both catch your breath. Your leg falls down off his shoulder like a weight is stored in it, your foot landing harshly on the linoleum tiles of the stadium. Your head rests against his chest, eyes closed as you breathe in the stench of his sweat. You need to memorize everything you can, sure you’re about to be escorted back to the main party.

Eddie surprises you, his hands soft as they cup your face, pulling you in for a sweet kiss. His mouth is gentle as he works it against yours, the light taste of pre-show alcohol on his breath. He methodically uses the kiss to distract you as he pulls out, but you still whine desperately into his mouth from the loss. A laugh escapes his lips, and you swallow it, still needing his gentle kiss. He finally separates from you, kissing your forehead as his thumb caresses your cheek.

“So…are you?” He asks, taking in your fucked-out face. Maybe you’ll let him take a post sex selfie if you reject him to remember you by.

If. There’s no way on this earth you would ever reject him, but of course, Eddie doesn’t know you’ve been stalking his Instagram.

“Hmm?” You ask, not a thought in your head for the moment.

“Doing anything this summer?”

You shake your head no, gulping. Eddie saunters around his dressing room, grabbing his sweats and another white cloth. He returns to situate himself between your legs, sporting his sweats, the hot cloth causing you to yelp in surprise.

He laughs quietly, a fond smile on his face as he continues to clean up the mess he left in you. At least, you think it’s fond. “You feel like following a ragtag band of misfits around for the summer?” He asks you, voice soft as he holds your eye contact while his hand moves idly.

“Ragtag?” You ask, remembering their electric energy. They’re rockstars, no doubt about it. There’s not one person who can deny that they earned their spot on the stage.

Eddie breathes another laugh, tossing his cloth to the side. “We are as ragtag as it gets, doll.”

You sigh, searching those gorgeous chocolate brown eyes for any signs he was joking. “I-I will quit my job…are you serious?”

He laughs, caressing your forearm. It occurs to him you’re still naked, so he walks to the couch to gather your shirt and skirt. “Dead serious. I can’t let a face like yours and a pussy like that go very easily.”

“Okay…” you answer, your heartbeat loud in your chest. You were so sure this was just a one-time (two rounds) thing that the idea of him wanting more of you never even occurred to you. It’s just too good to be true, no one is this lucky. “If I quit my job, I can’t afford to pay my own way…”

Eddie smiles, handing you your clothes. “If you don’t want to wear that skirt, I can get you some sweats from the merch table.” He offers, before sitting on the chair a few feet down from you. “Baby, I’m on the cover of Rolling Stone. You’ll be fine.”

Your jaw drops open, staring openly at the man as he watches your facial expression. “I’ll need to go and pack up…”

“Babe.” He stops you, getting up to hold your shoulders with his hands. “I don’t even know your name, yet.”

“Y/N”

He lets out an exhale, fuck, that makes sense. “I didn’t even know your name, and all I know is if I let you go then I will never be able to get you out of my mind. Whatever is stopping you, I can throw some money at it or call someone to get it done. Do you want to stay with me?”

“Yes.” It leaves your body in a sigh of relief, like coming home. Eddie presses a kiss to your forehead; you can feel his lips moving upward into a smile. “Also, sweatpants sound really nice.”

Eddie saunters over to a walkie you hadn’t noticed. In fact, you start to look around his dressing room, noticing a duffle bag by a rack with empty hangers, half opened bottles of water, and his phone sitting faced down at a table nearby. When he asks for your size, you provide it, putting the graphic tee over your head. He plops down on the couch, waving you over to sit right next to him. “Need to text your friend?” He asks, teasing you.

“Actually, can I invite her in? Natalie’s my best friend and she won’t let me live this down if I send her back without bringing her in to introduce you.”

Eddie shrugs, starting to pat his pockets for his phone. You grab it on your way to sit next to him, falling easily into his arm. “Yeah, sure, if you’re ready for her to tease the shit out of you.”

“Are you kidding?” You ask, somewhat giddy. “I’m about to go on twitter after your next show and see dozens of people asking where the hell you got your hickeys. Nothing can bring me down from that right now.”

Eddie chuckles, crossing one leg over the other in an L shape. He plants a kiss on your lips, his tongue sweeping against yours delicately. “Fuck, I’m so glad you fucking DM’ed me.” There’s a knock on the door, your sweatpants from the merch stand are delivered.

“You have no idea how much I keep thinking I’m about to wake up.” You confess, your fingers playing with the light stubble on his chin. “Thank god for cheap stadium beer.” The laugh that escapes him is melodic and gorgeous. “Thank god for cheap stadium beer.”

Thank you so much for reading! I love to read comments and replies and tags and as always reblogging is the best way to support fic writers on tumblr

Taglist: @pinkcowracing @yourthebrokengirl @skrzydlak @thirddeadlysin @sammararaven @bebe07011 @prettylovley @josephquinncore @forget-you-morelike-fuck-you @names-were-taken

#eddie munson #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson smut #rockstar!eddie x reader #rockstar!eddie smut #rockstar!eddie munson #rockstar! eddie munson

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whiskeylover75 · 4 months ago

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Marilyn Monroe: The Complex Icon

Marilyn Monroe is undoubtedly one of the most enduring and enigmatic figures of the 20th century. Her transformation from Norma Jeane Mortenson to a global sex symbol is a story of both triumph and tragedy.

A Turbulent Beginning

Orphaned and Abused: Born Norma Jeane Mortenson, Marilyn's childhood was marked by instability. Her mother suffered from mental illness, leading to a life of foster homes and orphanages.

Early Marriage: To escape the foster system, she married James Dougherty at 16, but the marriage was short-lived.

The Rise of a Star

Modeling and Acting: Discovered while working at a munitions factory, she began modeling and soon transitioned to acting.

The Blonde Bombshell: Her platinum blonde hair, curvaceous figure, and breathy voice became her signature look.

Hollywood Stardom: Films like Gentlemen Prefer Blondes and Some Like It Hot cemented her status as a global sex symbol.

Beyond the Image

Complex Personality: Beneath the glamorous exterior, Marilyn struggled with insecurities, depression, and substance abuse.

Intellectual Curiosity: Despite her public image, she was intelligent and possessed a keen interest in literature and philosophy.

Failed Marriages: Her personal life was tumultuous, with marriages to Joe DiMaggio and Arthur Miller ending in divorce.

A Tragic End

Mysterious Death: Marilyn's untimely death at the age of 36 from an apparent overdose remains shrouded in mystery, fueling speculation and conspiracy theories.

The Enduring Legacy

Cultural Icon: Marilyn Monroe's influence extends far beyond her lifetime. She is a symbol of beauty, femininity, and the American Dream.

Feminist Icon: Some argue that she was a victim of the male-dominated Hollywood system, making her a complex figure in the feminist movement.

Marilyn Monroe's life story is a poignant reminder of the complexities of fame, beauty, and the human condition. Her image continues to captivate and inspire, making her one of the most enduring icons of the 20th century.

#marilyn monroe #norma jean baker #norma jeane mortenson #40's #50's #vintage #pinup #celebrity #old hollywood #glamour #vintage hollywood #hollywood #style #timeless beauty #vintage glamour

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gucciwins · 2 years ago

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a talk show and a surprise

word count: 1827

a/n: okay, don’t know if you’ve seen haley lu richardson being surprised by nick jonas on FaceTime during an interview and it gave me this idea, and it’s something short and sweet i hope you enjoy, mis amores

_____

Talk shows were not your specialty, in your opinion. It felt weird talking to a host and having a live audience told to react at different cues. After appearing in the second season of The White Lotus, there was promo to do as expected. Still, there was a new population of fans following your Instagram tripling your following weeks since the show premiered. Your content was being shared as fans deemed you “real” for posting after-running selfies, photos of you cuddling your parent’s corgi they got after all their children left home. Their favorite was a video of you crying on your living room floor to “fine line” as it played on your record player.

It’s a video that managed to be shared thousands of times. To top it off, your best friend decided to offer them a new treat by posting a video of you at Harry’s Wembley show, happily dancing in the rain. The video ended with you pointing to the stage, screaming that you loved Harry Styles. You were obviously a fan, but your paths never crossed, not that you were surprised you still felt like you were getting your footing on what stardom meant. While Harry literally had the entire world charmed.

Bee assured you it would be fine; a few questions, a few stories, and it would be over. She prepared you for the mention of Harry because hosts loved the views and a good clickbait. It wasn’t your first time and would definitely not be your last. Jimmy Fallon was an angel, and you would be fine.

“Welcome our guest for the night, Y/N Y/LN.”

You walk out dressed in a beautiful black velvet mini dress. It features a lace bib with scalloped trim, diamonte piping, and satin bows. It had a flowing mini-length skirt with romantic blouson sleeves. You loved it from the moment you put it on and knew the crowd would eat it up as well.

Jimmy welcomed you with a hug and gestured for you to take a seat on the couch. “It’s great to have you here, Y/N.”

“Well, thanks for having me.”

Jimmy laughs going on to share about your past works and how you are a well-loved guest on the show.

“White Lotus is just amazing. You’re an absolute stand-out.”

You laugh, trying not to get too flustered as the audience cheers loudly for you. “Thank you. I have had the absolute best time. There’s nothing better than getting to film with Aubrey Plaza and Jennifer Coolidge.”

“While in Italy,” Jimmy adds on.

“The cherry on top.”

Jimmy leans closer, “now tell me, were you even a little bit nervous.”

“Oh, I was a mess. I was sure they cast the wrong person, but Bee, my manager, assured me that they thought I was the perfect fit.” You shared thinking back to when you first heard you got the role.

“Heard Aubrey Plaza got you a gift.”

You laugh, shaking your head as he brings out a photo of you with a signed headshot of Aubrey. “A little birdy told her I was a fan. There was a note that said: Now you don’t have to be nervous around me.”

“That’s amazing.”

“It’s framed in my house.” You share. Not at all lying. “The cast was so welcoming. There was not one bad day. Aubrey really took me under her wing, and yeah, one of my best experiences ever.”

Jimmy holds a hand over his heart, “that’s amazing to hear. It can be seen through the show, so if you haven’t watched it, you can head over to HBO Max and watch the talented Miss Y/N Y/N and the rest of the cast. We’ll be right back.”

After a short break you spent with Jimmy laughing and having your lipstick touched up, the cameras were ready to roll.

“Now, Y/N, I was told you love concerts.”

You nod, “I live and breathe them, Jimmy.”

“Who have you seen recently?”

“Oh too many, my good friend Phoebe Bridgers, Haim, oh Wolf Alice was wonderful recently in Los Angeles. My social media is a surface level of the few I’ve gone to this year. I drag my friends to different shows all the time. They love it. It’s the easiest place to fall undetected. At least I don’t think I’m famous enough to be recognized,” you joke, knowing it’s relatively easy to blend in a crowd when you are not the main star.

“Come on now, all these fans in the audience would say otherwise.”

The chant for you is loud, and you take a moment to take it all in. You’re quick to undermine your talent, but it’s clear that you have an audience that loves you.

“Now, what do you have to say about that?” Jimmy smiles, sensing how the cheers made you tuck into yourself for a moment before you began to blow kisses to the fans, thanking them endlessly.

“It’s surreal. Something I definitely don’t take for granted.”

The interview has been moving on smoothly, Jimmy asking you questions about the show and a few about your childhood. You're thankful he doesn’t have new childhood pictures of you to show. Your mother does that proudly on her Instagram.

“Now, you know we have to talk about this viral video of you.”

“Oh no,” you gasp.

Jimmy and you turn to look at a screen playing the video of you standing in one of Wembley’s boxes, dancing to Harry Styles as he sings to a sold-out stadium. It was a special day because your best friend surprised you with tickets that Bee helped her get. You had been working when tickets went on sale and were heartbroken to hear they were sold out nights. Thankfully, Bee has enough connections that she managed to get you tickets

“That is you at a Harry Styles show.”

You feel your face warm, hoping this interview will never reach him. “Looks like me.”

Jimmy shakes his head, “was that your first time?”

“Nope! It definitely won’t be my last,” you share honestly.

He shakes his head, “I’ve been to my fair share, and boy does he put on a hell of a show.”

“He really does. He’s created such a wonderful environment for many I’ve never experienced anything like it.”

Jimmy grins mischievously, “I have a little surprise for you.”

Your eyes widen in surprise, “is it a mug with his face on it?”

The audience and Jimmy laugh. You’re too distracted and don’t notice Jimmy’s hand going under his desk until he calls your name. You’re met with a phone, and the shock quickly sets in.

“Hi, love.” A familiar accent you recognize instantly.

You look away from the phone pointed at you, instead bury your face in your hands as the audience's laugh rings loud. Harry’s laugh is the only one that stands out for you.

“That’s–hi,” you manage to breathe out, not believing that Harry was on a facetime call to you. You look around and manage to find Bee on the side. “Is this real?” You ask her, pointing to the phone.

She gives you a big grin and thumbs up. You can’t believe it.

“Are you surprised?” Jimmy questions, clearly knowing the answer.

“A bit,” you express breathlessly.

All the cameras are pointed your way, and you have to face him. Harry’s smiling, and you feel yourself melting in your seat as you can see his dimples clearly. This is not real. Your celebrity crush is not staring at you through what seems like your phone the close you look at it.

“Hi Harry,” you give him a small wave.

“How you doing, love?”

“Good, good. A tad bit embarrassed. Trying to remember how to breathe.”

Harry laughs at your response. “Oh, I’m sorry.”

Jimmy cuts in, knowing you’d probably stare at the phone all day, not wanting to hang up on Harry. “Harry has something he wanted to say.”

His green eyes shine bright, and you know he’s enjoying this conversation with you. “I just finished White Lotus.”

“Shut up! You did not!”

Harry nods, “absolutely did. My band and I would get together to watch it every Sunday. Gave us something to relax over during the tour. You were my favorite,” he confesses.

“Me?” You point to yourself. “This is not real.”

“I hope you can come to a show next year. I would love to meet you?”

“I’m there,” you promise him without a second thought.

Harry nods, “good, we’ll be in touch.”

“Can I tell you something before you go?” You look at Jimmy, then back at Harry.

“This is your call, Y/N. Go ahead.” Jimmy grins, urging you on.

“Harry, thank you. I know I can say that you are an absolutely amazing person. Thank you for creating such a welcoming and safe environment at your concerts. It, in some ways, feels like coming home. I mean, you surely didn’t have to do this, but you did, and I’m so thankful. You’ve always shared your kindness with the world from when you were just a teen to now, and it just goes to show how true and honest your character is. Send my love to your Mom. She truly raised a wonderful human being.”

The crowd awes, not having expected such an emotional confession, and neither were you, but you weren’t sure at the next opportunity you would have to tell him. Harry stares at you for a few seconds with flushed cheeks and a timid smile.

“Thank you, Y/N. That is so kind of you to say. I do hope we get to meet soon. I know we’d get on fabulously. All the best to you. Good night, Jimmy. Good night, Y/N.”

Harry hangs up the facetime, and you bring your hands to your face, not believing what just happened. That did not feel real. You hoped, looking back at it, you wouldn’t cringe with embarrassment.

“That happened,” Jimmy jokes.

You reach forward and grasp Jimmy’s hand tightly. “You are my favorite person.”

“After Harry Styles, right?”

You throw your head back and laugh. “Obviously.”

____

After the surprise of a lifetime, you ended the interview and walked to your dressing room, where you tried to process what in the hell happened in the last half hour. Bee walks in with the proudest smile handing you back your phone.

“We’ll head out at twenty.”

You take the time to slip off your heels and rest on the couch, unlocking your phone and seeing you have three new messages. It’s all from a new contact that you know you did not have before today.

Harry S.

It was lovely chatting with you.

Heard you’re going to be in London in a few days, would love to get dinner with you.

This is Harry, by the way.

Yeah, it seemed your life was about to get very interesting.

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles fluff #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles blurb #harry story #harry fluff #harry love #harry x reader #harry imagine #harry blurb #harry one shot #pleasing #harry love on tour #harry styles x y/n #harry x you #harry styles fic rec

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paper-starz · 1 year ago

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i was so surprised by the lack of AUs in the My Friendly Neighborhood fandom! So, me and a few discord buddies decided to create our own! The Opposite Au! (Or the OPP AU for short)

its basically a personality swap with a few story changes!

(click read more for bonus doodles + character descriptions!)

NORMAN

Norman is THE BEST character on 'My Friendly Neighborhood' and he WILL remind you constantly!

He has like a bajillion fans and friends that are definitely NOT made up! Of course he has fans and friends from all over the world what do you mean he doesn't???

He's a bit of a diva... ok "bit" is an understatement. He genuinely believes that he deserves to be treated better than anybody else! He proudly displays a star on his door as a symbol of his supposed stardom!

There's a blurry line between fiction and reality for Norman. He believes his on-screen friendship with Lenard translates to real life, despite their mutual mistreatment of each other. Lenard is definitely NOT Norman's friend. (In fact, most of the puppets in this AU despise each other)

Incredibly overdramatic. He once laid down on the floor for 3 hours straight because someone ate the last chocolate chip cookie.

Norman is still very lonely.

JUNEBUG

Much more calmer and introverted than her OG counterpart. She would rather stay inside reading books than play outside with her so-called 'friends'.

She is the resident bookworm of the neighborhood, incredibly smart too!

Her demeanor is highly apathetic; even if chaos erupted in the neighborhood, she wouldn't even lift her eyes from the pages of her book.

She also speaks in a very monotone voice.

She still very much hates responsibility.

She and Norman have a sort of pseudo rivalry with each other, even though it mostly affects Norman. While others react to Norman's antics, Junebug's indifference to it annoys him the most.

Even if she's not currently reading books, she's usually staring off into space or thinking about something. Ms. Lilianna is not fond of her due to her inattentiveness during one of her lessons.

Has a horrible habit of sneaking up to people and scaring them due to the fact that she walks VERY quietly.

MS. LILIANNA

It's MISS Lilianna. Not Lilianna, MISS Lilianna! She is your teacher and you WILL show her some respect!

Miss. Lilianna is incredibly strict and uptight. If you so much as even breathe loudly she will get furious with you!

She does genuinely love teaching! She teaches math, science, english, history... but her favorite lesson to teach are RULES!

Currently, she has 874 rules in her rule book. Here are some examples:

22. No talking while she's talking, that’s rude. 23. No chewing gum 24. no smiling 25. no breathing too loudly 26. no running 27. no jumping 28. no laughing 29. no living 30. no screaming 32. no playtime 33. no snack time 34. no lunchtime 35. definitely no nap time. 36. No blinking more than once per minute! 37. You must sit at a perfect 90 degree angle 38. No writing with anything other than a blue ballpoint pen with a 0.735 mm tip!

Her favorite rule is rule #17: "Everyday is Teacher's Day!" You must give Ms. Lilianna gifts and hugs to show how much you appreciate her!

The most important rule is the "No complaining about the rules" rule! Or else you'll be sent to the principals office! Which is her. She is the principal, the custodian, the janitor, every and any faculty member of the school!

...Except for the Art teacher. Please don't show her any art, she will not understand anything. She lacks any and every sort of creativity.

Her favorite weapon to use is the classic ruler! Light weight AND teacher-y

Baldi's basics lookin' ass

LENARD

Anxious Dog Energy right there.

Poor Lenard is very shy and super self conscious. Like Junebug, he would rather stay alone than be anywhere NEAR people.

He has a bit of a stutter.

He is so anxious, that he's developed several self-defense mechanisms!

He will either SCREAM BLOODY MURDER

Or he will bite you

Or a combination of both.

Sometimes he'll bite for no reason whatsoever!

Lenard is TERRIFIED of being watched, especially while practicing. Memories of him being taunted and teased during the show's production still haunt him.

He's developed severe scopophobia because of this.

He will usually sing and dance in private. Though, he's not a very good singer nor a very good dancer.

GEORGE

The epitome of "I hate my job."

This George really hates being a taxi driver. I mean, wouldn't you hate being stuck as a taxi driver for the rest of your life?

After MFN got cancelled and the puppets got abandoned, George ripped out the 'T' in his taxi cab hat. He tried ripping out more from his taxi uniform, but stopped since his uniform were the only clothes that he's got.

He's now stuck in exitensial dread. What IS George now that he's not a taxi driver? He might've hated being one, but that was all that he's got.

He hates any and all vehicles with 4 wheels or more. All the taxi cabs in the studio are smashed, even the wheels have been taken out!

He still likes rats. However, it's mostly a "appreciate from afar" type of ordeal. The rats in the studio are vicious little beasts.

He once saw a puppet get too close to the rats. Let's just say that the puppet is now a pile of cotton fluff.

The only time he was genuinely happy during the show's production was when they were filming the Pirate's Cove film. It was his first experience of being anything other than his taxi driver role. He still has his pirates hook and he would fight you tooth and nail if you try and steal it from him

AND THATS EVERYONE (for part 1 ofc)

Thank you to my friends who definitely helped with this AU (you know who you are!)

Oh! And please click the images for better quaity!

#my friendly neighborhood #mfn #my friendly neighborhood game #mfn fanart #mfn game #mfn au #opposite au #mfn junebug #mfn norman #mfn lenard #mfn george #mfn lilianna #miss lilianna #OMG IM DONE #FINALLY #fun fact #I made this au in OCTOBER 25 #and i cant believe its OUT

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mediadollz · 10 months ago

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LUNARIX is a six-member fictional girl group that debuted on July 17, 2023 under ANGELICO Entertainment. Rookies thrown into the UNFORGIVING landscape of the entertainment industry, Lunarix stands out amongst the rest with their UNCONVENTIONAL and QUIRKY sound and concept.

Originally known as "ANGELGIRLZ" during their pre-debut phase, the group faced immediate scrutiny. Their debut announcement quickly followed the disbandment of Angelico's top-performing groups, VENUS and DeepDive. Accusations arose, claiming that ANGELGIRLZ copied Venus' "VENUS PROJECT" with their pre-debut project, "The Angel Project." Angelico chose not to address these allegations.

The negative reception toward ANGELGIRLZ intensified when their leader, Angel, was exposed as a school bully. The group's pre-debut single, "Chu~♡," received a poor response from the public. Following this setback, Angel was removed from ANGELGIRLZ, and her contract with Angelico was terminated.

On their debut date of July 17, 2023, Siyeon, a former DollsWorld member, joined the lineup, completing the current six-member configuration. Despite this addition, Lunarix still struggles to gain widespread public affection and often becomes the target of online hate trains.

Siyeon, the leader of Lunarix, was born on May 13th, 1999 in Daegu, South Korea, to a bustling family of six siblings. Siyeon's path to stardom seemed destined from the start, as she was born under a Waning Crescent moon.

From a young age, Siyeon displayed a big personality and an undeniable need to be on stage, setting her apart from her siblings. Her innate charisma and talent caught the attention of many, earning her the title of the "survival show princess." Siyeon participated in numerous survival shows, consistently making it to the finale but never securing a spot in the final group. Despite this, she remained a beloved contestant among viewers.

SIYEON'S SURVIVAL SHOW RESUME !

KARA Project: RANK 3rd

PRODUCE 101: RANK 18th

IDOL SCHOOL: RANK 17th

MIXNINE: RANK 5th, failed to debut.

UNPRETTY RAPSTAR 2: Third runner-up

THE UNIT: RANK 12th

PRODUCE 48: RANK 14th

GP999: RANK 11th

In 2019, Siyeon finally made her official debut with the group DOLLSWORLD under Stormedia. However, the group's journey was short-lived, with only two comebacks before silently disbanding as all the members terminated their contracts.

Undeterred by the challenges, Siyeon embarked on a new chapter in 2021 when she joined Angelico Entertainment. Alongside her commitment to training, Siyeon continued to participate in various survival shows, showcasing her resilience and determination.

Siyeon became Lunarix's new leader, main singer, and visual after Angel, the group's previous leader, was removed before their debut. Siyeon's strong singing and attractive appearance brought fresh energy to the group and contributed significantly to its identity.

ﾞ . ✩ . ' ۫ INFORMATION!

STAGE NAME :: Siyeon

BIRTH NAME :: Oh Siyeon

Birthday :: May 13th 1999

Zodiac :: Taurus

Birthplace :: Daegu, South Korea

Hometown :: Daegu, South Korea

Ethnicity :: Korean

Nationality :: Korean

Faceclaim :: Lee Yeoreum

Height :: 160 cm || 5′3

Liala Davis was born on January 20th, 1999 in Songkhla, Thailand during a Waxing Crescent moon. She grew up in a home filled with music, as her father was a copywriter and her mother was a journalist and part-time singer. They provided a rich environment full of musical inspiration for Liala to grow up in.

Liala grew up in a musical family. Her mother sang beautifully, and her father played the guitar in his spare time. This upbringing instilled in her a deep love for music. As an only child for much of her life, Liala was often pampered by her parents. Because of this, her friends and family referred to her as "Princess."

During her school days, Liala's fascination with becoming an idol began after she and her friends watched a performance by 4minute on YouTube.

Liala was a natural leader who took charge as the head of her school's dance team. She loved performing and showed her skills and passion to everyone. One day, she caught the attention of Angelico Entertainment and they accepted her into their agency. Liala dedicated herself to training and her exceptional talents quickly set her apart from others. She left Thailand to train in South Korea and while she was away, her parents welcomed another baby girl into the world, making Liala a big sister.

Liala spent three years practicing and improving her singing and dancing skills. Finally, she made her debut as the main singer and lead dancer of Lunarix.

ﾞ . ✩ . ' ۫ INFORMATION!

STAGE NAME :: LIALA

BIRTH NAME :: Liala Davis

Birthday :: January 20th 1998

Zodiac :: Aquarius

Birthplace :: Songkhla, Thailand

Hometown :: Songkhla, Thailand

Ethnicity :: Mixed ( Black + European )

Nationality :: Thai

Faceclaim :: Madison Bailey

Height :: 175 cm || 5′9

Kim Taerin was born on August 12th, 2000, in Seoul, South Korea. She is a talented individual with a complex past that adds to her intrigue.

Taerin has always kept her childhood a private matter. While there isn't much information available, some internet detectives have uncovered some heartbreaking details. When she was 5 years old, Taerin lost her parents and older brother in a terrible house fire. She was then adopted by a couple in Seoul. She has openly stated that she prefers not to think about her childhood, and the people who raised her are no longer a part of her life.

Taerin struggled with her studies and social life, but found solace in music. At just 15 years old, she began producing music on SoundCloud, showing that she was talented at making beats and melodies. She adopted the name SEEU and started making music for lesser-known groups and Korean hip-hop artists. This helped her grow up fast as she navigated the producer scene.

Taerin faced challenges when she decided to pursue her craft independently at the age of 17. It's unclear how she caught the attention of Angelico Entertainment, but this was a turning point in her life. Under Angelico's guidance, Taerin worked on her image and kept most of her past hidden.

She'd debut in Lunarix as their main rapper, lead vocalist, and producer.

ﾞ . ✩ . ' ۫ INFORMATION!

STAGE NAME :: Taerin

BIRTH NAME :: Kim Taerin

Birthday :: August 12th 2000

Zodiac :: Leo

Birthplace :: Seoul, South Korea

Hometown :: Seoul, South Korea

Ethnicity :: Korean

Nationality :: Korean

Faceclaim :: Kim Suhyun

Height :: 173 cm || 5′8

Evangeline Rostova, who goes by Evie, was born on June 5th, 2001 in Vladivostok, Russia, during a Full Moon. She is the second of three children in a family of academically talented siblings. Evie confronted the challenge of distinguishing herself among her siblings, but found her true strengths in dance, singing, and gymnastics. Despite not being great in academics, her mother was pleased with her gymnastics talent.

Evie was a successful gymnast at the age of 17, with a good chance of making it to the Olympics. However, she decided to leave her gymnastics career behind and go to Korea. She wanted to train with Angelico Entertainment, a prestigious training company.

Evie's pursuit of her dreams had consequences. Her mother didn't support her and cut off all communication, calling her a disgrace. However, Evie remained in touch with her siblings.

Evie was a talented performer in the Korean entertainment industry. She nearly secured a spot in the popular girl group VENUS and worked on other projects with Angelico Entertainment. After much anticipation, the time came for her to make her highly-anticipated debut.

When Evie joined Lunarix, she took on three roles: Main Dancer, Lead Singer, and Rapper. Her versatile talents added an extra flair to the group, making their performances even more dynamic and captivating.

ﾞ . ✩ . ' ۫ INFORMATION!

STAGE NAME :: Evie

BIRTH NAME :: Evangeline Rostova

Birthday :: June 5th 2001

Zodiac :: Gemini

Birthplace :: Vladivostok, Russia

Hometown :: Vladivostok, Russia

Ethnicity :: Russian

Nationality :: Russian

Faceclaim :: Nova

Height :: 157 cm || 5′2

Jang Yoomi was born on October 10th, 2001 in New York City. She moved to Ulsan, South Korea when she was seven years old. Yoomi faced challenges during her move, including her shy personality and difficulty learning Korean since she had not spoken the language before. She was born during a Last Quarter moon and started her life in a fast-paced environment in the United States.

Yoomi and her siblings grew up in a family of successful business owners and CEOs. They went to the most prestigious private school in Korea. Despite being academically strong, Yoomi had a difficult time adjusting to the new environment. Her limited Korean skills and introverted personality made her a target for bullying and harassment. The situation reached a boiling point when she suffered a broken nose and cracked ribs from a particular incident.

Yoomi's parents decided to withdraw her from school due to the worsening situation. They wanted to ensure that their daughter was in a safer environment, so they used their connections to secure her a trainee position at Angelico Entertainment. This change was aimed at providing Yoomi with a more supportive setting to develop her talents. Yoomi continued her schooling online and thrived in her role as one of Angelico's top trainees, demonstrating her resilience and determination.

She officially debuted in Lunarix as their main dancer, lead rapper, and vocalist.

ﾞ . ✩ . ' ۫ INFORMATION!

STAGE NAME :: Yoomi

BIRTH NAME :: Jang Yoomi

Birthday :: October 10th 2001

Zodiac :: Libra

Birthplace :: New York, New York

Hometown :: Ulsan, South Korea

Ethnicity :: Korean

Nationality :: Korean-American

Faceclaim :: Lee Chaeryeong

Height :: 162 cm || 5′4

Navi Pandya was born in Odisha, India on November 7th, 2002, under a Waxing Crescent moon. Despite her young age, Navi has an impressive portfolio that showcases her commitment to her craft.

Navi's early childhood is not widely known, but it is known that dancing was an essential part of it. She was inspired by her four sisters who were all accomplished dancers themselves, and she aspired to be like them. Navi was influenced by K-pop bands such as Wonder Girls and Miss A, and started her trainee journey under JYP Entertainment.

Navi first appeared on the K-pop scene through the reality show SIXTEEN where she competed to become a member of the group TWICE, but unfortunately didn't make it. She didn't give up and later participated in Produce 101, where she ranked fifth and went on to debut with I.O.I. Navi won the affectionate nickname "nation's baby" for her performance.

Navi's career came to a halt after I.O.I. She was expected to debut with ITZY, but a disagreement over her contract with JYP changed things. She joined FLOWERBANK Entertainment but faced challenges with mismanagement of her solo career and several promised group debuts that never happened. This period led to a decline in the momentum gained during her I.O.I days.

In 2022, Navi made a significant move by joining Angelico Entertainment, marking a turning point in her career. Debuting with Lunarix as their main dancer, center, and lead rapper in 2023.

ﾞ . ✩ . ' ۫ INFORMATION!

STAGE NAME :: Navi

BIRTH NAME :: Navi Pandya

Birthday :: November 7, 2002

Zodiac :: Scorpio

Birthplace :: Odisha, India

Hometown :: Odisha, India

Ethnicity :: Indian

Nationality :: Indian

Faceclaim :: Sriya Lenka

Height :: 170 cm || 5′7

#˖˵˵˵˵˵˵ଘ( ꈍᴗꈍ)⋆ profiles !#ficnetfairy #oc kpop group #fictional idol community #kpop oc #fake kpop oc #idol oc #oc girl group #fake kpop idol #idolverse #fictional idol group #idol au #bts addition #kpop addition #kpop au #fake kpop girl group #fake kpop group

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gabessquishytum · 6 months ago

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Hob is a star! Mind it's for kicking a round ball up and down a long field, and yes Hob is aware that his life is absurd, but he does love it.

And really the day his life changed, he was just being loud and silly with his mates at some dumb exclusive vip bar, he didn't expect to fall head over heels (at first sight) for some stuffy 😍 museum curator who walked up to him, calling Hob on his bullsh*t.

What was this (glorious) man even doing within the sound of Hob stupid voice?! Nothing about Hob seems to impress -- the footie stardom, the hot bod, the money.....pretty man was sooooo unimpressed! Hob wants to have his babies!!

Dream Endless was only in this club because he was trying to be nice to his sibling. Desire was celebrating getting a major modeling contract and wanted to bask in everyone's regard. Dream was prepared to stay for a socially acceptable time and then leave,,, when this beautiful silly man (who was famous?!) started being loud and wrong, and Dream just couldn't let it go.

He might have spent the rest of the night sitting close to Hob arguing and staring into his eyes.

AKAKSJDHA football star Hob is absolutely a wonderful au. He has no braincells but boy is he sexy!!!

He's (loudly) asserting that the world is a wonderful place and that it would be a magnificent thing to live forever (while all his mates laugh, trying to goad him into doing more shots), and this gorgeous man walks over and flat-out tells him that he's stupid. It's basically Hob’s dream come true, he's pretty much got a kink for being insulted by hot people. He's only too glad to drag Dream into one of the boothes (with a bottle of top shelf vodka to share) to continue the argument. Stuffy museum curator Dream spends every day taking care of literal skeletons and the belongings of long dead people, and he has opinions about death. Hob is happy to listen to Dream talk about how life is a stain on the canvas of the universe. And to reply "but if I was dead I wouldn't get to see your eyes shining in this light, would I?"

Dream, in turn, is secretly fascinated by Hob's bare arms dusted over with soft hair. And the thick thighs hidden by his perfectly fitted jeans. Dream has had no desire to see a game of football literally ever in his life until now, but he's having thoughts about this man running around in a little pair of shorts and it is..... tantalising.

Its even more tantalising when Hob tugs Dream into the bathroom (which is surprising clean and empty) with a mischievous grin on his pretty face. Hob isn't allowed to kneel on the floor (his PT would murder him) so Dream bends over the sink pedestal with his legs spread as wide as they can go, and Hob quite happily squats behind him and eats him out like giving rimjobs is his full time job.

Dream isn't totally convinced on the idea of living forever, but fuck... he's willing to be persuaded again!

#the sandman #dreamling #nsft

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culthermag · 10 months ago

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⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀❝ 𝐀𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐘𝐀𝐇’𝐒 𝐔𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐏𝐏𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐄 𝐈𝐍𝐅𝐋𝐔𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 ! ❞

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀AALIYAH’S UNFORGETTABLE FASHION SENSE ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀EXPLORED, ─── AN ARTICLE WRITTEN & PHOTO ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ EDITS MADE BY MIA GOLDS

If you ask anyone in the world to define the legacy of Aaliyah, you’ll receive a myriad of responses. Some will praise the rising IT Girl whose precious life tragically ended too soon, while others will reflect on the profound impact she’s made on their existence in one way or another.

Many others will recount her evolution from a young R&B sensation to a mature artist exploring pop music and other sounds on the brink of her prime. But regardless of the response you get, one thing reigns true as the definition of her essence: her iconic fashion sense.

From the moment she burst onto the music scene in 1994 with her first album “ Age Ain’t Nothing but A Number “ as a fresh-faced teenager, Aaliyah captivated audiences not only with her angelic and smooth vocals but also with her distinctive sense of style.

In her early years, she came out the gate pushing the envelope of what it means to be a budding artist and a free-spirited young black girl. Many of her looks effortlessly blended streetwear stylings with subtle couture pieces, rocking oversized sports jerseys and baggy pants paired with sleek, feminine touches like crop tops and crop jackets to create uniquely balanced silhouettes and cuts.

A fashion format she carried throughout the entirety of her career, through time she changed the way she presented it but the elements of it remained. As she soared into her stardom and maturity as an artist, so too did her fashion sense.

Later she embraced more feminine and refined aesthetics, favoring sexy silhouettes, tailored gowns, and minimalistic elegance. Her iconic tomboy ‘ sweet but street ‘ chic look became synonymous with effortless coolness, and inspired countless fashion trends.

Establishing her as the true style icon she was, ahead of her time and still remains today. Regardless, it was her ability to seamlessly transition between various fashion personas that truly set her apart from any of her peers.

Whether she was rocking a glamorous gown on the red carpet or effortlessly slaying in a baggy tracksuit on stage, Aaliyah exuded confidence and authenticity in every ensemble.

That very same confidence and coolness continues to resound in the world around us today. From celebrities and influencers, to everyday fashion enthusiasts who pride themselves in their physical expression.

The beauty of creating art is that it is big— and permanent enough to live beyond us. Within her short time on earth, she continued to push boundaries and explore new musical territories, and her fashion choices unwound alongside her, reflecting her growth as an artist and into a woman.

From the streets of Brooklyn to the stages of the world, Aaliyah's fashion journey was as dynamic and diverse as her music, leaving an unforgettable imprint on the industries of fashion and music alike.

𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐘 𝐒𝐓𝐘𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: From Tomboy to Tommy Girl

During her debut era in 1994, Aaliyah not only captivated audiences with her smooth, soulful vocals on hits like “ Back & Forth,” “ At Your Best ( You Are Love ), “Old School, “ & “ Age Ain’t Nothing but A Number “— the title track of her debut album, to name a few… but also with her distinctive sense of fashion.

The way she dressed didn’t just resound the casual and laid-back lifestyles of the R&B & Hip-Hop scene of the 1990s, but it also reflected her confident, humorous, yet collected personality.

There wasn’t a single teen girl in America that didn’t want to be like Aaliyah. Black girls everywhere aspired to make oversized jerseys, baggy pants, cropped tops, statement sunglasses, numerous colored bandanas, and baseball caps look as chill as she did. Her uniqueness quickly made her a sensation and role model to look up to.

In addition to her loose-fitted hoodies and starter jackets, a wrist full of silver bangles and standout nail polish colors added feminine contrast to anything you’d see her in, and how could we forget her “ A “ initial necklace? Simple but effectively iconic.

Her early appeal and aesthetics can be attributed to the legendary fashion stylist Derek Lee. From 1994 onward through her career, Derek was instrumental in crafting her trendsetting tomboy aesthetic. It was his hard work and vision that helped to shape her distinctive fashion sense and solidify her status as a style icon.

Under his guidance, she became known for her effortless blend of masculine yet sweetly feminine elegance, taking risks, setting trends, and inspiring fans worldwide. Derek has also styled Lil Kim, Bobby Brown, and Macy Gray, to name a few.

As his muse, Aaliyah landed her first significant collaboration campaign for Tommy Hilfiger in 1996. Tommy Hilfiger is a brand whose name still holds the same weight today as it did in the 90s.

Becoming a Tommy Girl allowed Aaliyah to express her creativity in a new way. Their collaboration blended urban streetwear-inspired styles to cater to the day's youth and offered a sense of high-quality exclusivity. Her laid-back touch perfectly complemented Tommy’s preppy dynamic and made a memorable partnership that we still recognize and associate with the R&B star.

Working with Tommy also introduced Aaliyah to her best friend, Kidada Jones, the fashion stylist and designer, who is also the daughter of music legend Quincy Jones. Their shared interests in music, fashion, and culture are said to have led to a natural connection and friendship over time. The two young women were just alike.

𝐖𝐄 𝐍𝐄𝐄𝐃 𝐀𝐍 𝐄𝐕𝐎𝐋𝐔𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍: Get it? Anyways, Aaliyah’s Evolution from Teen Idol to Full Blown Superstar!

In the Mid to Late 1990s, Aaliyah’s style evolved into something with the makings of a rebirth—a renaissance for her womanhood. The teenage tomboy crooner had grown into a young woman navigating mainstream success, and her fashion began to reflect that portion in her narrative.

Many of those who adored her for her music also adored her fashion sense as it became less practical and increased in intricacy. She traded her baggy pants, oversized leisure wear, and cropped tees for sleek leathers, fitted dresses, and high-fashion-grade ensembles that added more contrast and texture to her wardrobe.

Though she never shied away from wearing color, her palette during this era took on a more toned-down colorway to emphasize her maturity: rusted earth tones, browns, grays, and lots of black.

Her red carpet looks became increasingly refined during this era, showcasing her versatility and ability to transition between different fashion personas seamlessly. As she navigated her way through the entertainment industry, tackling acting roles and additional modeling campaigns, how she presented herself began to attest to her evolution as a person with each project she put out.

Her ‘One In A Million’ era was the dawning of a new point in her career, with the sophomore album marking a transition into a more cultivated sophistication in her artistry and welcoming bolder accessories for her coming-of-age narrative. She showed versatility as she was praised on cover shoots for teen magazines nationwide and reserved her edge by allowing her signature shades, oversized jackets, and necklaces to appear.

Her self-titled “ Aaliyah “ album era was the last project released during her time here. This era was the pinnacle of her evolution. This portion of her art saw her embracing sultry vocals and lyrics, all the while coming into the glamor of stardom and confidence with every public appearance. Statement pieces and bold colorways once again found themselves in her look. Avante-garde designs, high fashion designer-brand labels, and intricate detailed pieces and patterns, to name a few— demonstrated her fearless approach as a trendsetter and tastemaker.

This era leaves a bittersweet imprint in the minds of many. While we applaud the woman she was becoming, we cry for the sweet spirit we lost so tragically and too soon.

𝐀𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐘𝐀𝐇, 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄: Her Homage to High Fashion

Her partnership with Tommy Hilfiger in the mid-1990s was a groundbreaking moment, as she became the face of Tommy Jeans, effortlessly blending mainstream fashion with hip-hop culture.

Aaliyah's influence also reached luxury fashion houses like Versace, Gucci, and Alexander McQueen, where she was admired for her daring fashion choices and ability to push boundaries.

She seamlessly incorporated pieces from these brands into her wardrobe during photoshoots, music videos, and other public appearances, showcasing her impeccable taste and fearless approach to style.

Aaliyah's affinity for luxury fashion not only elevated her image but also helped raise the visibility of these brands within the urban music and fashion scenes.

She famously wore a custom-made Tom Ford for Gucci leather jumpsuit in the music video for her song "Try Again," a look that continues to be complimented.

She rocked a stunning black silk organza gown from Alexander McQueen’s Spring/Summer 2000 collection in her final music video for "Rock the Boat." Along with designs by Thierry Mugler, including a metallic silver jumpsuit during her performance at the MTV Video Music Awards in 1998.

Her legacy as a style icon inspires designers, artists, and fashion enthusiasts worldwide, solidifying her status as a timeless muse for high fashion designer brands with an unstoppable influence.

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐔𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐏𝐏𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐄 𝐈𝐍𝐅𝐋𝐔𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄: 23 Years Later…

Aaliyah's influence on fashion transcends time, resonating even in present-day trends 23 years after her untimely passing. The entire thesis of this exploration is to emphasize how her style continues to inspire a new generation of fashion enthusiasts, celebrities, and influencers all these years later. I aim to stress how her incredibly unmatched talent and passion for fashion collaboratively created a legacy that still holds her light.

Modern-day stars like Zendaya, known for her boundary-pushing fashion choices and effortless blend of streetwear and high fashion, often cite Aaliyah as a source of early inspiration.

Similarly, Ciara's bold and glamorous style pays homage to Aaliyah's rule-breaking approach to fashion, with her outfits and statement accessories reminiscent of the late icon.

Tinashe, an independent artist and producer, embraces Aaliyah's signature tomboy-chic aesthetic, infusing it with her own modern twist to create a unique and captivating look.

Aleali May, who in my opinion is a fusion of Aaliyah & Kidada Jones’ essence, is a designer stylist and continues to be a rising star in the fashion world, channels Aaliyah's relaxed and understated elegance in her streetwear-inspired looks and all of her designs, proving that Aaliyah's influence knows no boundaries.

Even global superstar Rihanna, known for her daring and trendsetting style, acknowledges Aaliyah's impact on fashion, paying homage to her in her music and fashion choices. Along with the beautiful and eclectic Teyana Taylor further attesting to the power of a legacy as well.

Beyond celebrities, influencers and public figures across social media platforms continue to celebrate Aaliyah’s fashion that came before her time, reinterpreting it for the digital age and keeping her legacy alive for generations to come.

Aaliyah's style and unapologetic individuality continue to serve as a reminder that true fashion icons are immortalized not only in memory but also in the enduring influence they leave behind. Great art never expires.

━━━━━━━━━━━━ 𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐂𝐄𝐒 & 𝐒𝐎𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐋 𝐌𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐀:

CULT HER INSTAGRAM

CULT HER TWITTER

PERSONAL TUMBLR PAGE

ADDITIONAL LINK TREE

COPYRIGHT & REPOSTING NOTICE: All written content and picture edits in this Tumblr post are original creations by me, from my own mind. Reposting or unauthorized use without permission is strictly prohibited. Please respect my work. I also have stated numerous times I do not own the original images used in my edits for this post. I claim no ownership over those. © MIA GOLDS / CULT HER.

━━━━━━━━━━━━ 𝐅𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐖 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐄!

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xalicitie · 5 days ago

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Fakes Tales of San Francisco // Alex Turner Fanfiction (Part 1)

Anastasia lives in San Francisco and leads an unassuming life as a painter. Over the span of a twilight, Anastasia is cornered into spending the night with her ex-boyfriend from highschool, who happens to be Alex Turner--frontrunner of the Arctic Monkeys, currently at the culmination of his stardom. After so much time spent with pent-up antipathy for one another, Anastasia and Alex try to see each other in a different light.

Hii, it's been awhile. I'm sorry if you're coming from my other posts and see that I've hopped into another fandom once again 😭I promise I don't do it on purpose.

Alex Turner fanfiction for you. This is during his AM era and vaguely takes away from his life and background. Plot with some porn in the end lmao.. I was planning to just make some smut to post on here again but this story unfolded without beckoning. The plot is pretty fleshed out. It serves as a nice writing exercise.

This is part 1 of hopefully maybe 2-3 parts. Roughly 5,500+ words. It's a bigger project than usual, and I'm praying that I'll get it written, especially since I have Thanksgiving break too. I'm going to see if this gets traction, and I'll likely post it on my AO3 too since that's literally abandoned (Adrenelinejunkiee)

Burnished auburn collided with sable. Bristles against the canvas susurrated, softly gliding as a flicker of fleeting sunlight clashed against the fluorescent hues; the vestiges of the afternoon were swiftly fading. The rhythm of a jazz melody was mingling with the air, the atmosphere, so delightfully secluded and unheeding of time and space and the bustling population of San Francisco not too far over, stretches of land away from my home.

The meager house was perfect. It was incarcerated by facets of gorgeous, looming windows, holding the city in its outlook. Adorned in wooden flooring, endeared with a faint and unshakeable scent of vanilla. Enshrouded by greenery, and by the forests flanking the restless city--the slumbering, quiet outskirts of San Francisco. The perfect place to house me: an unassuming 27 year old painting her life away, earning a decent wage in painting for galleries and showcases, unshackled by the manacles of a rigid desk job.

All was well this Friday afternoon. The air was still. Ideas were flowing, and the paintbrush was weaving a path of its own. A trail of umber there. A fire was forming: a ring of it, and the bristles were perfectly materializing the image raging in my mind. I leaned forward. My eyes were slimmed as I traced the fine cracklings of the flame. Closer, closer..I held my breath as my brush neared the canvas- A brusque blaring of wretched sound captured the room as my brush slipped.

A stroke of egregious color! It looked as if it were a scar, a ravine in the midst of the rolling plains of the painting--an ugly wound to be certain. I threw the brush to the ground, a curse slipping from my lips simultaneously.

The glaring alarm of a pending call was blasting through my speaker, which had scared me shitless--no surprise to that. It'd been abreast to me, flanking the canvas, lying in wait like a fire alarm ready to be sprung.

Who could be calling? I marched my way over to the kitchen counter, filing through a list of names in my mind and coming up empty handed. It was a short series of names, anyways. Friends…couldn't be bothered to call. It had to been some scammer.

"Who the fuck.." I muttered incoherently, taking the phone in hand. I choked.

The name Alex was emblazoning the screen coyly.

I could barely render it. I'd forgotten that I still had that contact on my phone. I only had one Alex in my life, one that had wandered away so long ago and so far that the possibility of a call had become entirely immaterial. Entirely ludicrous.

What the fuck?

I stared at the phone. The rings were buzzing one after another; pesky, raucous tintinnabulations consuming my empty house. I was stagnant and uncomfortably erect, staring dully at my phone as if a ghost had done the hokey-pokey in front of my face.

On the last ring I answered with a volition unbeknownst to me.

"…Hello?"

I uttered quietly. There was a ruckus on the other side of the phone.

"Hey, um, is this Anastasia?"

A flurry of intermingled perplexion and disappointment muddled my expression. Nothing about that tone of voice sounded like Alex. It was a british accent, but unless the Alex I knew had just completely abandoned his unique Sheffield timbre..and unless he had decided to drop his own voice down 5 octaves to sound manlier, then this couldn't be him.

"..Yes. Who's this?"

There was a pause, congested with the clamor of perhaps a gathering or a party rumbling on in the background. Nothing about this call was aligning into any sort of notion of clarity.

"It's Matt Helders. Sorry, if it's a bit loud. Hey.. Anastasia. You remember me, and you remember Alex, erm, don't you? From a few years back"

I choked on something. Matt Helders..the Matt I distantly knew from secondary school, who I saw a few years back--drummer for the Arctic Monkeys…?

"Yeah.. I do.."

I answered as if Alex his own alcove in the recesses of my thoughts that I divulged every once in awhile. As if that twilight so long ago with Matt and Alex didn't have it's own sovereignty in my mind.

"That's .. good. Well, he's sort of in San Francisco right now. Look, I--I don't mean this to seem hasty or abrupt. I know it's been awhile, and we haven't talked at all in the past few years. But I was just wondering if your perhaps still in the city?"

It took me awhile to reply to him, as I was still caught up in my words. "I'm not necessarily in the city. I live in the outskirts of San Fracisco. Can.. Can you explain--why are you calling me?"

"I'm sorry this is abrupt. It's just that Alex.. look, he's doing shite. We're on tour right now, and he's hammered.. or high off his ass.. I mean, I can't even fucking tell, he's so fucking far gone. Look, we've got a concert in two days, and we don't want to leave him in our hotel alone to go and snort some cannabis or drink a bottle of tequila dry again. We'll be rehearsing and setting up all day tomorrow, and Alex won't be any help to us in his state. We need him to sober up before Sunday afternoon. We've decided on either having you look after him or hiring a babysitter, or something rubbish like that. And..I know you two have history. I know this is.. odd, but if you could do this favor for us it would save our asses. And I'm willing to pay you."

I stood there, phone sidled up to my ear, listening to the torrent of amalgamating voices on the other side of the line with my hand grasping the marble counter at my flank. It was the only sensation tethering me to my home, to the starkly distant reality of comfort surrounding me.

They were seriously hiring me to babysit after Alex's drunk ass self? After our last interaction, my feelings towards Alex had been cleaved into heartbreak, hatred, and an awful yearning.

Yet although I might still care for him even know, it didn't mean that I was entitled to help him--or otherwise give him a moment of my time.

Amongst the haze of voices I discerned some muttering, barely heard, barely there, which rose in volume so that I could pick out a few wisely-chosen words:

"Who the fawk are you calling on my phone, Matty?"

There was the unmistakable tone, only distorted, unhinged and unbalanced as it rippled in drunken inflections. I froze up a little bit. I really never thought I'd hear it again, save the music on the radio--the singing voice entangled with that Sheffield accent, indicating home, indicating teenage love and heartbreak.

Matt answered with some incoherent barking of words. I searched for some semblance of an answer to such a terse proposition. I knew that my schedule for tomorrow was wiped clean of any abruptions. I knew that I had all of the flexibility possible to make room for one hammered band leader, who I'd just have to keep in check..ideally with the absence of any small talk or indications of the past..

I knew I had the capability for it--but the will?

I didn't have time. Matt was awaiting an answer, and I hated being rude.

Would it even be rude to refuse the offer? I was sure that the fate of the long-anticipated Arctic Monkeys concert in the heart of San Francisco wasn't resting on my obliging. Like Matt said: they could hire a babysitter. Or, I don't know, drop him off at the nearest rehabilitation center for a day.

What the hell was he doing, being so pissed that his fellow band members had to call up an old girlfriend? A foolish one-night stand? And yet, like I mentioned, I hated being rude. I always had. And now it was going to drive me into my undoing.

I breathed and answered quickly, so that I couldn't swallow the words on their way out of my mouth.

"Fine. Sure. What do I .. need to do?"

Alex and his band mates were currently at a bar named Smuggler’s Cove, an approximate thirty minute drive away from my home. The buildings were growing denser around me, glimmering lights gathering and steadily fusing into one band of color which seemed to wrap around the windows, drenching the carseats and the dashboard in warm hues. The tenebrosity of nighttime was trickling into the sky. Cars were zipping past, and the buzzing of the city was flourishing.

The whole ride was spent blankly running the predicament over in my mind. It'd been over 3 years since I'd seen Alex, so it shouldn't come as a surprise that this untimely call was ever so slightly addling my mind.

So many years ago, quickly after becoming a legal adult, I came to America, migrating all the way from Sheffield to explore the states' endless opportunities. As a young girl who'd barely reached 19, the decision to move to a completely different country wasn't easy to make. At the time I was dating Alex Turner, and had been since 2001 during our time in secondary school. My grand plan had been to move to California to pursue my wild, effervescent dreams of investing the entirety of my life into art. Simultaneously escaping the creeping claws of my aunt's.

Alex had dreams of his own, and the great schemes that we'd conjured in our minds were unable to coincide--not without putting thousands of miles between us.

Alex and I had got on immediately. Skipping classes, only to return to a proliferating stack of tardies and after-school detentions. Making out by the dumpsters in the dregs of that dreadful building. Determined that life's purpose was within one another.

That was only the deluded rhapsodizing of a teenage girl. When real life struck us both, that unbroken, unfettered bond we'd shared was shattered.

I'd buried Alex deep by the time that I made it to San Francisco. And yet, soon enough, I heard the fierce rapidfire of an electric guitar and a beating drum all over social media, accompanied by his voice. And then I couldn't escape him.

How delusional had I been? Now that his dream for the Arctic Monkeys had come to fruition, it all gathered into this acceptance and understanding. This multimillion dollar band was the culmination of all of Alex's desires. He would have sacrificed anything for it. It shouldn't have been more than a passing thought to throw away what hopes of our relationship were still there.

A silly little secondary school fling. The legendary Alex Turner's adolescent flame reduced to ashes.

Here I was rushing off to nurse his drunk ass. And I had been so sure that our paths were unable to collide any more than they already had.

I wasn't sure how to dress, how I might act when faced with the guy that headlined concerts and was currently touring the world. I was in an oversized white button-up shirt, donned in fitting jeans. Paint was still littering my hands here and there. A messy bun was sprawling off of my head, brunette hairs cascading out from the halfhearted hairdo. I looked completely out of place as I entered the bar.

It was teeming with women and men downing drinks. The walls were artfully decorated in fantastical decorum. The lights were red, purple--fluorescent shades that were beating down on the floor.

Feeling tiny and unbidden, I called up Alex's phone.

The phone ringed a few time before it was answered.

"Anastasia?"

"Matt. Hey, I'm in here. Can you meet me near the entrance?"

"Sure, sure. Wait there, we've got to haul him your way."

So I waited. Standing in the corner, a perturbed look playing at my features. Fortunately, it didn't take too long for seemingly three men to come out of an archway ahead, two with a man clothed in black leaning against them.

In the darkness, it was difficult to make out the drunkard's face. I could see Matt's face, which I recognized fairly easy--memories came rushing forth as his features came into view. But my eyes were honed in on the one on his shoulder, whose hair was flung over his face.

"Matt!"

I called out. He couldn't pick me out of the crowd until I cried out, and his wearied visage found my own.

They came over, slowly approaching, clearly slackened by Alex's burden at their sides.

"Are you Anastasia?"

I turned to a man that I vaguely recalled as Nick, the band's bass guitar. Brown curly hair came down to his neck, and he had a kind face. I nodded, jerking my head, simultaneously trying to keep myself familiar with the fact that these were the notable members of the Arctic Monkeys.

"Yep. This is Alex, I .. presume?"

The other flanking Nick and Matt nodded, seemingly worn down. Jamie, maybe?

"Thanks for coming Anastasia, seriously. I don't have that much money on hand, but…" Matt began shuffling through his pocket, bringing out a wallet and brandishing a wad of cash.

"Will this be alright?"

He held it out. I took the cash in hand and scrutinized the amount in the dim light: three hundred fifteen fucking dollars?

"Three hundred… you're going to have to take this back, this is-it's too much--"

"I promise you, that's just enough. He's going to be a headache."

I looked back up at the men, and they seemed to look collectively apologetic.

"Apologies in advance." Said Jamie.

My mouth was gaping, my eyes like saucers. I tried to utter something--thank you? No problem? Don't you worry? Each train of thought seemed to come out in some unintelligible, abashed phrase.

"Thanks--of cou- .. don't worry. Um, he'll be in safe .. hands."

We were held in abeyance, an awkward period passing between the five of us.

"Safe handss.. who will be in safe.. handss--?"

His head shot up melodramatically. In their hazy state, Alex's eyes caught mine, and I blinked.

He was properly hammered. His eyes were bloodshot. His deep brunette hair fell over his gaze. I could see discolored eyebags muddling the fair skin beneath it.

He looked like the highschool ex-boyfriend I knew him as, reserved and youthful. And yet he was also wrought in the debonair image that had captured the world's attention.

An inexplicable intertwining of the two.

"A--Ana..?"

I attempted to answer, but couldn't. Matt talked in my absence. "Yep, you'll be in safe hands mate. With Anastasia, alright? Just for a day. Don't cause her trouble, or I'll be doubling the amount and taking the cash out of your wallet."

Alex turned to Matt and his brows rose. He stared for a moment, barely resting three inches away from Matt's face before sighing and puking onto the floor at his feet.

Alex had been stuffed into my car. He was currently slumped against the seat, mouth slid open, eyes slits of sable as he shut them then vaguely opened them, fading in suspension between consciousness and unconsciousness.

"I really hope he doesn't completely black out before you make it home."

I nodded as Matt veered me towards my car door. He slinked forward and opened the door before I could reach it. I giggled sheepishly, sliding into my seat.

"Look, with the money you've given me, it's worth it. I'll try to have him…functioning, by Sunday."

"You don't have to do anything more than watch over him. We just need somewhere he can stay before Sunday, and somewhere that he can't reach alcohol or cannabis, or whatever the hell he's taking. It means the world.

"And I hope that you know that we didn't want to have to call you. Given how he's .. treated you before." Matt's eyes found mine. Suddenly, it seemed like we'd found ourselves trapped in a memory. "I'm really sorry. About what happened last time."

Licking my lips and awkwardly flitting my gaze away from his, I nodded at Matt, not quite sure what to do with myself.

"It's fine. Really." I brushed off, trying to hide any hurt caught in my throat.

He looked at me for a pensive moment, then continued.

"Okay. Look, if he's being a dickhead, give me a call. Actually, let me lend you my number real quick.."

I handed Matt my phone, and he filled out his information intently. In fleeting seconds, I could spot the young boy that I passed in the halls during secondary school. And in others, all that was left to see was a man, one of kindness and .. good looks. I watched as he typed the numbers quickly, and found myself pondering whether he was still single…I'd have to google it later.

"I'll call you, don't worry." I assured with a smile. "And you can check up on him anytime. Just, um, send a text or give me a call. It's not like I have anything else to do tomorrow."

I laughed awkwardly. Matt nodded in concurrence.

"Mattyy…. why are you sending me awayy?" "Oh, are you up Alex? Good! You'll be fine mate, you just need a little time away from everything." Matt yelled to Alex, who mumbled something and laughed to himself.

"He's a mess."

I turned back to Matt, who suddenly appeared crestfallen. I furrowed my brows. He hesitated momentarily, but sighed.

"It's this tour. He's starting to get sick of it. And.. a recent breakup. Really bad timing, is all."

I ruminated silently. I'd heard news somewhere on the media about Alex being with some woman named Arielle Vandenberg. A perfect couple, so to speak. Crafted just for the spotlight, according to fans.

I shifted my gaze back towards him and bit my gum sourly. The facade of delight that came with his drunken state was now transparent; there was a chink of melancholy that I could see in the eyes.

"..I didn't know. About the breakup."

"Yeah. Took its toll. Anyway, we really do appreciate you."

"Of-of course."

"You weren't .. you weren't ideal to ask this favor from. But we've tried everything. He's .. well, he's how any bloke would be after a breakup like that. Maybe you can cheer him up a bit."

Matt's eyes darkened for a bit, as if exploring some profound feeling of dejection, before flashing back to his surroundings. He stuttered, and I cut him off.

"I'll do my best." I promised. And he understood; nodding with gratitude, Matt Helders wished me off with a halfhearted smile. Nick and Jamie did, too. I smiled widely, taking one last look at each. Waving them off, I rolled my window back up and started up the car, pressing the gas pedal.

Silence was quick to settle in. Alex seemed too far gone to form words as the nightlights passed by and bathed our two bodies, illuminating the car so that daylight seemed to emerge again in its warmth and brightness. However, the stars were shining bright on this Friday twilight.

Sometimes I looked beside me and took in the image of him for a moment. It was unbelievable; carved out of some asinine fantasy of mine. He was extremely charming, even in his dormant state. He was wearing a leather jacket, and his brunette hair was cut so much shorter than it used to be. He was much more mature in his features. His jaw was sharp enough to slice through the air.

Although he was one of the only lovers who had ended up mattering in my life, those feelings were buried deep. Yes, he was gorgeous. Yes, he was sculpted by the gods (or by teenage girls chronically addicted to tumblr). But he wasn't Alex anymore, not the one from Sheffield. I wasn't Anastasia from Sheffield, either. I thought, and thought, and came up with the notion that we'd probably gotten way past trying to find that same romantic spark that had engrossed us before.

I mean, gosh, who was I kidding? He had thrown that away years ago. It was I that fought so hard to keep that ebbing image of our forlorn relationship alive.

The radio was playing. The road was unfolding before us. A pop song was rumbling on as I drove my way across seemingly never-ending highways.

Then it played. I heard his voice, and yet it wasn't from his mouth but from the radio. I glanced at the radio and read the title: "Do I Wanna Know".

"Turn off that shite."

I turned to Alex with raised brows.

"I'm sorry?-"

"I said turn. it off."

Struck with deep surprise and umbrage I hesitantly turned it off completely.

The night settled in. Silence pursued us once again.

"You happy?" I asked with a slightly tighter grip on the wheel. "Now we get to listen to awkward silence. How lovely."

"I think awkward, is a product of the imagination. It's all upp.. to perception."

I rolled my eyes. "So poetic of you. You are your parents' son."

"And you're certainly your parents' daughter."

I gripped the wheel so hard that my nails punctured my skin.

"Now what the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"What?"

I bit my tongue. Why was i bothering? He was literally drunk off his ass.

"Whatever. You're just drunk."

"Always brushing off your problems, Anastasia."

I fought the urge to roll my eyes again.

My breathing was heavier. A few tipsy words from him and I was unsettled. What the fuck?

He was more than an old boyfriend to me. Alex was a reminder of the past, something inherently tangled with my teenagehood and every event that happened in that time. Teenagehood was a dark time, save his presence in my life.

He was just a secondary-school ex-boyfriend. He was just the first love and the first heartbreak, the one that we all endure in our youth. Then why was it so easy for him to press my buttons?

He knew me well. More than most, despite the time that had separated us until now. Maybe that's why it stung the most. He could dig out the truths of my soul with nothing more than a muttered phrase.

"I didn't know you were still sensitive to that."

I shook my head slightly. "Thought I'd be over it by now?"

He laughed. "Right. I wouldn't be over it, either. If my parents died."

I breathed in, and exhaled. Dispelling all of the anger and setting my eyes on the road ahead.

The silence wasn't all too bad. It lasted for a long while, which I was grateful for. The buildings were dissipating, and the quiet was further engendered and deepened. Night was bleeding into the windows. City lights and gleaming billboards were reduced to street lamps. We were almost home.

And then he was laughing again. I was shaken out of my focus on the road, turning to face him.

"What?"

"Isn't it I--ronic? Ironic that we found our way, back to each other, again?"

I stayed silent for a moment more, then clicked my tongue.

"I guess. But I didn't will it. I never would've bothered you again, Alex."

"Soo serious. Sooo somber. You were much funner in secondary school."

I couldn't conjure a better response than "fuck off", so I ignored him.

We'd passed the Golden Gate Bridge. Within a few minutes, the surrounding fumes of green, tenebrous forestry were enveloping my car. The stars gleamed brighter than ever, the moon an argent crease in the sky. The day had outrun the night, save a few purplish, reddish hues forming nebulous stairs on the horizon.

"We're here." I said as I drove my car into the garage. The nightlights lined around my bijou home provided some of the only clarity in the darkness ahead.

"Already?" He moaned.

I unbuckled my seatbelt. "Come on." I glanced to my side, only to see that he was still drooling on the seat.

I sighed. "Don't tell me I'm going to have to haul you into my own fucking house."

With much effort and irritation, I managed to get Alex through the door, upstairs and into my guest bedroom.

He made several low, drunken comments on the house, most of which were gibberish. Although I could discern that he wasn't nearly as hammered as before, it was clear that Alex surely wasn't putting much effort into being useful or acting sober. Carrying his weight up my stairs, as puny as they were, was no easy feat.

The scent of alcohol was malodorous. Moreover, the thunk of his boots lazily clunking onto my carpet further deepened the cut. But I cursed it and trudged on, and found myself thrusting him onto the mattress.

He groaned, rolling across the sheets and plopping onto his back. "Now you stay there, Alexander."

I rushed downstairs, and came back with a glass of water. When he found my silhouette grasping the drink within the door's threshold, he groaned again.

"What's wrong with you? It's just water. You need it."

He muttered resistance, but I came forward anyway.

He was tough to get ahold of, but I got him against the headboard. Gulp by gulp, he got a bit tamer and his movements went lax. At times I spilled water on his shirt, which he responded defiantly (and awfully melodramatically) to.

"I can drink bloody water me self." He moaned.

"Yes, I know you can." I clicked my tongue and peered into his dark eyes, burnished only by the nightlight I'd turned on in the corner of the room. "But I don't care."

After the next and last sip, he paused before speaking. "You sound different."

I raised my brows. "I do?"

"So American."

I huffed a short laugh. "What, do you hate it or something?"

"I don't know yet."

I rolled my eyes, shifting in the bed. "Give me your jacket."

Alex coughed, chuckling under his breath as he began shrugging his leather jacket off. "Oh? So you want this to end up like last time?"

"No, you arsehole. Do you want it on? I don't keep the air cold at night."

"Alright, love. Don't think that I'm not aware of this plan you've got going."

Sighing, I took the rather heavy leather jacket in hand once he'd shedded it off.

"You really think I enjoyed what happened last time?"

His eyes, consumed in umber, lingered in an unfamiliar darkness for a moment. "Well, I'd assume you did-"

"Getting left in your fucking hotel room? Not hearing another bloody fucking word from you?!"

"You know, I think you're twisting the situation just a little bit-"

"You are very lucky you got to see me again, you wanker." I huffed, punting his jacket to the floor. "Honestly. I- .. I didn't want to see you again."

I rose up to my feet, shielding my eyes from his gaze by finding his boots, which I pulled off in annoyance. Then I heard the dwindling of a heavy sigh whistle in the air.

"Either I'm just too drunk to care right now or .. I really don't give a shit."

I laughed sardonically. "Right."

Silence ensued. I was now simmering with ire. Currently, with a stick up my ass, I was rethinking this mess of a situation that I'd inconceivably gotten myself into. What was Alex Turner doing in my house? Ensconced in my guest bedroom, getting under the sheets, underneath my skin?

Something about him hit a nerve buried beneath marrow, enveloped in layers of skin and years of time. Something about him was enigmatically undoing.

Yet through my embitterment, those words that Matt had mumbled were wavering in the air, gleaming like a silver lining. A breakup had left him like this: clinging to alcohol so desperately. And the tour was underway at the same time--their largest one yet, I'd heard over the media.

All that pressure. And while looking at him, well, all I could see was the boy from secondary school. The boy who couldn't care less if he made it out of school with good grades, who was invested in his passion for music and writing and knew nothing of the stage. "Just get some sleep." I cleaved the silence finally. "For Matt." He seemed ready to retort or say something, but the awaiting air diminished, and quietude flooded through.

Since I hadn't eaten dinner, I slipped downstairs and began cooking.

I started preparing myself Fettucine pasta and shrimp to go with it. Through my tall windows, the darkness was potent and overwhelming. As I began cooking the pasta, fumes of the smell of fettucine cheese and forgotten home seeped into the kitchen. I tried to put Alex aside in my mind. 4 years ago, when he trifled his way back into my life--and after he'd slithered his way out of it--it had been hard to dim the presence that he had in my mind. Now that forgone feeling of having him near, and the memories of him, ensconced in the recesses of my mind--it was all coming to the surface a little bit.

During his Humbug tour, Alex had arrived in San Francisco to perform a set. Him and Matt invited me to go partying with them somewhere in the city, in order to catch up and, perhaps, make amends since Alex and I's volatile breakup years ago.

We did both. Matt and I hadn't grown very close in secondary school, but we bonded over our times with Alex. The times we'd drunk our asses off or ditched school for escapades that seemed so distant now to our current lives. When I used to run around the outskirts of Sheffield with Alex. Making out, fucking under the bridge, spraying graffiti wherever I could make do. Smoking whatever the fuck we had in hand.

Here I'd been, thinking I'd left it all behind. Sheffield, the tart memories associated with the place, him, and my youth. But I spent that afternoon with him and Matt and realized that that part of my life was cherished, within my heart, more than I knew.

We partied, drank. Matt found a hot girl to sidle up to. We'd crashed at a club, and Alex and I were dancing around each other. My body was flowing with the rhythm of the music. His hands were resting tantalizingly on my hips.

"Missed you." He said quietly into my ear, his arms enclosing my waist. I let my head fall to his shoulder. The fluorescent lights were flashing and alternating second by second, displaying red, blue, green on the image of my chest laced in a cropped top, ensnared in Alex's embrace.

"Oh?" I shifted my head to face him. Refraining from closing the disappearing space any more than necessary--holding back from stealing inches of distance to make this more dangerous than it already was.

"Too busy being a rockstar to remember it?" I asked, trying to mutter it with feigned scorn only to smile abashedly.

"I thought you liked the new look?"

I teased his long hair and raised a brow. "Who said I don't?"

We went back to his hotel that all of the band members were staying at. We kept it PG for Matt, who'd taken up the shotgun seat in the taxi. But once we made it to the hotel, taking one of two rooms, which the other members very quickly evacuated out of, it was Hell on Earth--and by that, I mean that it was simmering hot, so immoral that we'd likely performed all 7 deadly sins (and 7 fucking positions), and served as comeuppance for the lost time that we were now investing in eating each other alive.

I woke up feeling taut and stretched at the seams. Naked, only sheathed in the sheets scrunching around my body. And wakened by a significantly emptier air than from the night before. Alex wasn't beside me, dozing off in the image that I'd fallen asleep to. The sound of my rustling body disrupted the morning quietude. I found a note on the bedside table. Alex's scrawling handwriting explained that they had to prepare for a set early on, and that he'd reply to any text that I were to send him.

He didn't. Reply, not for 12 hours. As Alex was the frontrunner of the Arctic Monkeys, I had to try and understand that his leisure time wasn't easily captivated and wasn't in abundance. But after a few days of very slow conversation which dwindled into nothing, the very unbidden and treacherous feeling of abandonment came, and a sense of loneliness rushed over me. Ravaging.

I don't know what I'd fucking expected. That Alex Turner was coming into my life, reminding me of everything that once made me feel alive and worth something, and was going to stay? We lived very separate lives. Our experiences had diverged beyond comparison. He was apart of a musical sensation while I was painting in my crappy apartment at the time.

And I still was. Only in my meager house, earning a mild wage and living a very quiet life. And somehow he'd made his way into my home.

The silence was deafening in it--is reverberated within the the walls. Alex was hopefully steadfastly asleep, drowning the alcohol in his system with dreams of red lights and dancing shoes. I was scooping a few mouthfuls of pasta into my mouth, scrolling on my phone, seated in a sea of stillness.

My favorite moments in time. Nothing but myself and my paintings around me: nothing for miles.

A picture of sheer perfection ready to be muddled in the morning. I sipped from my glass of water, leaving my dishes by the sink and trudging upstairs. I checked up on Alex once more--in the dim light his silhouette was faintly emblazoned, heaving, slowly sedated by slumber.

Now passing through the threshold of my room and crawling onto my mattress, I crumbled and curled my limbs inward, resting my head against the pillow. Listening to the silence, sighing, faint fantasies of untouchable realities serenading my mind; I fell asleep in unsteady peace.

#alex turner #arctic monkeys #alex turner x reader #alex turner smut #am album #alex turner fanfic #am arctic monkeys

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gazebo-components · 3 months ago

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Improv Is Cool Now: reflections on the past, present, and future of improv on the internet

DISCLAIMER: this is LONG -- not because it’s comprehensive or correct, but because I have a lot of thoughts. i am not an authority on improv, i just like it. these are some things i have noticed & been thinking about over the last couple years.

TLDR: the world of digital comedy is getting increasingly improv-ified. because of this, improv is forced to adapt to digital forms, which is sometimes awkward but (i think) generally very exciting! it's taking on a new life and reaching more people than ever before and it's maybe... even... cool now ? i investigate dropout’s and smosh’s recent improv ventures to find an answer and then i talk a little bit about saturday night live. also, there's color-coding.

IMPROV OVERVIEW

- Basically there are 3 big improv schools/theaters that are seen as launching-off points for comedy stardom: Second City, Groundlings, and Upright Citizens Brigade (UCB). SNL hires from them, a bunch of famous comedians have come from them, etc. Of course there are other schools and other ways to “make it” in sketch/improv, and many people have critiqued the school system for being gatekeepy/culty, but the big 3 schools are pretty much the center of the improv/sketch world.

- The big 3 each have their own class tracks for sketch and improv that can eventually lead to auditions for house teams, which are SUPER competitive. At UCB you audition for Harold teams (improv) and Maude teams (sketch). At Groundlings you audition for Sunday Company and are then possibly invited to join the main company. I know the least about Second City but I think you audition for a touring company & are then possibly invited to join the main company? IDK.

- I cannot stress how competitive these auditions are, at all 3 schools. Over 1000 people audition for UCB Harold teams every year and less than 1% get a spot. Getting on a house team is a BIG FUCKIN DEAL.

- There are (basically speaking) 2 kinds of improv: short-form (more structured: games, wacky characters) and long-form (less structured: scenes, plotlines). Short-form is often seen as "easier" and more palatable for a non-improv audience than long-form, which can be really esoteric and confusing and hard to watch. Groundlings and Second City focus on short-form & sketch, UCB Harold is long-form, UCB Maude is sketch.

RECORDED/TELEVISED IMPROV

- Improv on TV, especially long-form, has historically not been good or successful — UCB experiments with recording/televising longform shows in the 2000s, but nothing really goes mainstream. One exception is Whose Line Is It Anyway (a short-form show by Second City alums), which runs from 1998-2007 and is pretty popular. Whose Line comes back in 2013 but is on shaky shaky ground, might be over now? IDK.

- 2020: Recorded longform improv has its first big moment in Ben Schwartz and shitty guy Thomas Middleditch (both former UCB Harold performers), whose special Middleditch and Schwartz prompts Vulture to ask, “What if improv were good?" IMO, this is the point where Improv Starts Being Cool.

DROPOUT

- Early CollegeHumor team is full of improv comedians, mostly UCB. Many (Brennan, Siobhan, Trapp, Ally, Zac, Grant, etc…) have been on Harold/Maude teams.

- 2020-ish: Big dramatic CollegeHumor -> Dropout shift; one major takeaway is that unscripted content does much better than scripted content. Dropout pivots to focus on unscripted, eventually premiering Make Some Noise, a short-form show often compared to Whose Line. (Sam Reich says MSN has brought more people to Dropout than any other show.)

- 2022-2023: Dropout introduces multiple longform improv shows, including Play It By Ear and Very Important People (both hosted by UCB Harold performers). VIP performs exceptionally well and is even submitted for Emmy consideration.

- 2023: Wayne Brady from Whose Line appearing on MSN is a MAJOR passing-the-torch moment for improvisers. Wayne tells Sam that only two productions have ever gotten filmed improv right: Whose Line and Dropout.

- 2024: Dropout Presents, a set of original comedy specials, includes 2 longform improv shows: Bigger! With Brennan And Izzy and From Ally To Zacky -- a performance by Yeti, a graduated UCB Harold team made up mostly of Dropout regulars.

- TAKEAWAY: DROPOUT IS DOING MORE LONGFORM. I mean, they're doing more of a lot of stuff, including short-form. But VIP and the longform Dropout Presents specials indicate a willingness to try recorded longform à la Middleditch and Schwartz, which makes perfect sense given that so many of them were/are UCB Harold performers. Will it pay off?? We'll see!!

SMOSH

- 2016: Smosh’s first Try Not To Laugh, a version of the improv game Bus Stop/Park Bench. To my knowledge, the cast at this time has no one from the big 3 improv schools -- of course, this does not mean they aren’t good improvisers (because clearly they are!), just that Smosh isn’t connected to the traditional improv world at this point.

- 2020: Smosh hires its first professionally trained improvisers as cast members: Ify (UCB), who eventually leaves to do a bunch of Dropout stuff, Jacklyn (Second City), who eventually leaves to join Second City NY, and Amanda (Groundlings), who was on Sunday Company and gets on a UCB Maude team in 2022. In other words, they’re all excellent school-trained improvisers.

- 2022: Smosh hires two UCB sketch/improv performers, Angela and Chanse, who were on a Maude team together with Smosh writer Patrick McDonald and editor Josh Fleury.

- 2023: Anthony comes back and they start doing old-school sketches that incorporate the rest of the cast. They do ok, but unscripted content like TNTL continues to be more popular (echoing Dropout’s experience)

- 2024: Angela and Chanse are announced to host the variety/sketch/improv show Bit City. The first episode contains 2 sketches, a 10-minute character improv piece from Amanda, and a 10-minute reunion (semi-improvised). The cast are clearly very excited about being involved in "traditional" sketch/improv (as opposed to just being in pit/games stuff).

- TAKEAWAY: SMOSH IS GETTING MORE INTO TRADITIONAL IMPROV. Try Not To Laugh continues to be one of their most popular series, Bit City is being extremely hyped up, and the cast has gone to multiple Groundlings workshops together. My guess is that Smosh will stick to short-form, because their audience is less comedy-nerd-y than Dropout's and none of the Smosh cast are UCB Harold alums (remember, Angela and Chanse were on a Maude [sketch] team, and Amanda did Groundlings, which is short-form and sketch). Again, this doesn't mean they can't do long-form (they definitely can), but I do think their skills/interests lie mainly in sketch and character/short-form improv.

SATURDAY NIGHT LIVE

- SNL is decidedly not an improv show, because improv is much scarier to do on live broadcast television than sketch is, but it is still a live show and historically many of its performers have been improvisers. Again, SNL hires improvisers almost exclusively from the big 3 theaters.

- SNL undergoes an identity crisis around 2020-2022 as many well-loved cast members (many of whom are improvisers) leave, hiring mainly standup comedians, not improvisers, to replace them

- Current SNL cast improvisers: Bowen Yang (UCB), Chloe Fineman (Groundlings), Ego Nwodim (UCB), Mikey Day (Groundlings), Heidi Gardner (Groundlings), Chloe Troast (indie, to my knowledge!). The rest are stand-ups, or are named Colin or Kenan.

- TAKEAWAY: SNL IS SAME OLD SAME OLD, BUT... Lorne Michaels is speculated to leave after this season (50), discussions of a “new era” and major shifts for the show. Possible replacements include Tina Fey and Seth Meyers (both are career improvisers, unlike Lorne) — could SNL incorporate improv in the future? Again, historically difficult because of broadcast television rules, but idk, it's an interesting thought

CONCLUSION

- improv is cool now! more and more digital comedy productions are turning towards improv, maybe a reflection of greater desire for authenticity/humanness on the internet? idk.

- the big 3 theaters continue to be a driving force of the improv world, despite some people's desires to move away from that kind of institutional importance. UCB in particular is being showcased a lot because of dropout, though idk if that translates to anything in the real world.

- dropout is doing more longform (yay!!) and is making their real-life improv connections/teams/relationships more explicit with filmed live improv shows and bringing in established groups of improvisers like Improvised Shakespeare.

- the current smosh cast contains three classically trained improvisers, and the channel seems to be making moves towards traditional improv in the style of the big 3 schools, but will probably stick to shortform. (also, no, the smosh-dropout merger is not happening anytime soon.)

- young people think SNL is cringe now (imo it's just as cringe as it ever was... live sketch is HARD). the show will have to make some major changes if it wants to stay relevant, and they'll be looking to the success of digital comedy as inspiration and competition. my prediction: after season 50 they'll do a big overhaul, get a new young host, might even poach a couple Dropout stars.

- there’s A LOT OF stuff I didn't get into: the evolution of standup/crowdwork/recorded standup specials, SNL hiring trends over the years, the pandemic + comedy (particularly TikTok sketch), the Smosh Sitcom Live, what the hell a Harold even is and why it matters. this is already very long and i am, frankly, very tired.