Pairing: Carter Baizen x Reader Part: 1/? Warnings: Smut Summary: You and Carter ride home in his limo after a gala. A/N: This is the first part in a series based on this post. Each part will be a different character and we’re starting off with Mr. Baizen. Please come let me know what you think! Word count : 1,642
“Mr. Baizen! Mr. Baizen!” the paparazzi were but a caucus of noise to Carter who was used to the attention by now. He shielded you and escorted you directly into the limo. You shifted your satin gown and sat back against the leather with a smile.
“Finally,” you shot Carter a smile who you could tell was thinking the same thing by the deep breath he let out.
“I thought it’d never end” Carter chuckled, running his hands through his hair before discarding his coat. The gala had run for hours and both of you were eager to leave so when Carter put his hand on the small of your back and whispered, “let’s get out of here” you both practically ran.
He leans back against the leather seats, his warm hand on your thigh the high slit of your dress allowing the access. You watched as the boyish smile faded from his face replaced with a predatory glare, his blue eyes darkening as they travel down your form. “Did I tell you how beautiful you look?” he asks his hand stroking your thigh gently, raising goose bumps in their wake.
A/N: this is a fic for a female reader, my other ones should be gender neutral unless stated otherwise. thanks for all the love and support! you’re all amazing! as always, requests open. this one is sorta lengthy, but it was by far one of my favorite ones to write! i really hope you like it it’s dedicated to all those who feel unloved, alone, or lost right now this one’s for you things will get better eventually just hang in there :)
“Mr. Stump! Mr. Stump!” the paparazzi and interviewers were all shouting his name, waving their microphones and recorders and video cameras, asking him dozens of questions. Patrick had already spent the past two hours trying to get through most of them, the flashing lights and blur of faces making him only more exhausted. He had just performed a show, and he was tired and ready to sleep, but you were a close friend and you wanted to talk to him for a little bit, well, after the crazy crowd died down. Afraid to cause rumors or speculation, you stood on the other side of the road, watching him get mobbed by the people, contemplating whether or not you should just go save him already or wait for him patiently.
It was fifteen more minutes of a wait when you finally decided you should go fish him out of that crowd, and you walked across the street, making your way through the throng of people, squeezing and squirming through the crowd until you reached Patrick. “Y/n!” he shouted your name as soon as he saw you, racing towards you and giving you a huge hug. You released the embrace, the interviewers and people screaming and getting even more riled up.
“Who is this woman?”
“Is she your girlfriend?”
“Do you hug everyone like that?”
“How do you know this girl?”
“Is she a fan?”
Patrick just laughed and you turned red with embarrassment. “Calm down guys,” Patrick chuckled. “This is y/n. She’s one of my best friends.”
“Are you sure you’re just best friends?” an interviewer asked.
“Haha, I don’t know,” Patrick smirked. “We’re close friends, I can tell you that.”
“Are you in a relationship?” another person wondered.
“We’re in a friendship,” Patrick smiled, looking at you and you just sighed, chuckling to yourself.
“How long have you known this y/n?” another one inquired.
“A really long time,” Patrick responded. “Hey, I really loved talking to you all, but I need to go get some rest for the big show tomorrow. I’ll talk to you all next time, okay? Thank you.”
You tugged on his arm as you guys made your way past the crowd, and he turned to you. “Sorry I didn’t come earlier,” you frowned. You should’ve crossed the street the first time you thought of it, you chicken.
“It’s fine,” he shook his head. “Don’t worry.”
“Yeah, but those people were pestering you,” you insisted.
“They weren’t pestering,” he laughed, ushering you into his car. “They were just being extremely inquisitive.”
“Whatever,” you rolled your eyes. He turned the keys to start the car and then a look of realization came to his face.
“Oh, uh, so what’s the plan? Sorry, I didn’t ask. I just assumed we were going to hang out,” Patrick blushed.
“I’m sorry, haha it’s okay. I just wanted to check up on you, see how you were. I don’t want to keep you up late, I mean, if you need some sleep for tomorrow-” you began but he quickly cut you off.
“No!” he protested. “I want to spend time with you. Gosh, it feels like forever.”
“Yeah,” you sighed. “It has been.”
“How about we crash at the hotel? I’m sharing a room with Pete, but he’s out at some party or whatever. We can catch up on things maybe,” Patrick suggested.
“Yeah that sounds great,” you nodded eagerly.
You guys found each other later that night having a deep conversation on the couch, drinking green tea and eating cheese pizza. Patrick talked about his journey with the band, his hobbies, what he had been doing in his free time, how life was like juggling everything at once. You told him about work, how things were going, what home was like, how it was feeling all alone. “Don’t feel alone,” he begged. “You have me. If you ever need to talk, just call me. I promise I’ll try my best to pick up. I’m here for you y/n.”
“Thanks Patrick,” you gave a half smile. “Really, you’re the best.”
He gave you another hug, and then you guys decided to turn on some Netflix, and watch a couple episodes of Game of Thrones. Throughout the episode, you slowly spotted Patrick drifting closer to you on the couch, closer and closer, until finally it was to the point where if you moved so much as one inch, you’d probably either have your head on his chest or his arm around your shoulder. Not that you were complaining, but you were confused. Patrick had told the interviewers you were just friends, but after such an emotional long talk and having poured out all your secrets and fears to each other, it seemed like you guys really bonded tonight. Not that exchanging a hug or sharing tea from the same glass was extremely romantic or anything, but in a way, you loved him even more. Yeah, you loved Patrick Stump. Best friend, boyfriend, or just friend, you were always going to love him. He was such a sweet guy, and an amazing friend. You wished you could be closer, but with him being in the music business and your busy job, it seemed like things wouldn’t even be able to work out, no matter how hard you tried. You were silly to even think that you could have a relationship with him. Again, he had just reconfirmed that you had a strict friendship earlier today. Nothing more, nothing less. And you were happy with that. Right?
All of a sudden, there’s a noise at the door, and afraid, you leapt into Patrick’s arms, and he just laughed. “Sorry,” you backed away, embarrassed.
“No, no, it’s fine,” Patrick chuckled. “I heard it too.” He leaned towards you and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close to him. Damn, he was really good at giving hugs.
“Thanks,” you mumbled. The door swung open, which caught you both by surprise, and you both jumped in your seat, and then Patrick got up off the couch as soon as he realized what was going on. Shit, of course. You almost forgot about Pete.
“Hey, who’s the lady?” Pete raised an eyebrow.
“She’s my friend,” Patrick glared. “Look, I thought you were at a party.”
“We got busted, I had to come home early,” Pete explained. “Dude, is this what you do every time I leave to go to a party? You bring chicks to our hotel?”
“She’s not a chick,” Patrick folded his arms.
“Hi Pete,” you waved hesitantly.
“What’s her name?” Pete wondered. “And why won’t you let me at least two feet into our hotel room? Seriously Patrick, the door is still open.”
“We were in the middle of something,” Patrick grumbled.
“Woah,” Pete’s eyes widened. “Care to elaborate?”
“No, that’s not what I meant,” Patrick shook his head. “Just, we thought we wouldn’t have other company tonight.”
“No, no, I get it. You need some time alone with the lady. I just need to be able to sleep in my bed and get a couple hours in before the show tomorrow. Make sense?” Pete decided.
“Come on y/n, let’s get out of here,” Patrick mumbled, walking over to the couch and grabbing your hand and taking you outside to the hallway.
“See you later, sweetheart!” Pete called after you.
“You will not be seeing her later,” Patrick narrowed his eyes.
“Why so grumpy, Stumpy?” Pete asked.
“Fuck off, Pete,” Patrick warned him.
Pete and you both exchanged a glance, widening your eyes at the fact that Patrick would even use that sort of language, but I guess he was pretty pissed off that Pete came home from the party early. Patrick cussed occasionally, but never did he get so flustered or angry like that, much less tell that to Pete. Patrick pulled shut the hotel room door and you saw him frown, probably processing everything in his mind. You didn’t know what caused him to get so angry. All Pete did was just walk into the hotel room. You placed a hand on Patrick’s shoulder. “Hey,” you started calmly. “What’s wrong?”
“Let’s just go somewhere else,” he sighed.
“Patrick,” you mumbled, squeezing his hand.
“It’s nothing,” he shook his head. “Now come on.”
Patrick took you to the elevator, and then to the lobby, where you both sat on a couch, his arm wrapped around your shoulder and you leaning on him, not caring what the people at the desk thought. You sat there in silence for a little while, and then you spoke up. “Why were you so mad at Pete?” you wondered.
“I wasn’t mad,” he shook his head. “I was annoyed.”
“But why?” you whispered. “He was only trying to talk to you.”
“Yeah, but he was trying to hit on you too,” Patrick grumbled. Instantly you felt annoyed too, mostly at the fact that Patrick didn’t even have the guts to ask you out, yet he’d get angry when another guy so much as talked to you.
“Why would you care?” you snapped. “It’s not like I can’t flirt with other guys. Remember? I’m just your friend.”
Patrick drew in a sharp breath, almost at a loss for words, and you closed your mouth instantly, knowing you had just hurt him. Fuck. You didn’t mean for it to come out like that. Rather than make things worse, you just decided to stay quiet, listening to Patrick’s ragged breathing, until finally he took a shaky breath and dared to speak. “You, um…” he stammered. He regained his composure and tried again. “You don’t think I care about you?”
“I don’t know,” you sunk deeper into your seat, his arm around you making you feel guilty all over. “I don’t know anything anymore. I’m so confused.”
“But y/n,” Patrick let out an exasperated sigh. “Why would you ever think that?”
“Maybe it’s because you cuddle with me and you tell me everything and I think you might like me and I’m waiting, constantly forever waiting for the day when you might confess your feelings for me, because I still can’t tell if you like me or not. But then I go to an interview or I meet one of your friends, and it’s like you don’t want anyone to know about me. I’m just the friend,” you mumbled. “I know we haven’t seen each other in a while, Patrick, but this is what happens every single time I try to see you. It’s why I sometimes don’t return your calls or your texts, because I’m so confused. I don’t know if you want to be just friends or you want to be something more. So you need to tell me. Please.” You took a deep breath. “Look, I’m sorry.”
“I’m sorry too,” Patrick sighed. A comfortable silence filled the conversation, and you rested your head comfortably on his chest, still waiting for an answer to your question. That’s when you felt him start to get up, and you backed away, starting to follow him.
“Where are you going?” you inquired, following him out the front door.
“I need to show you something,” Patrick told you. “It’s important.”
“Okay…” you replied.
He took your hand, practically dragging you to the front lawn, until he stopped and put his hands on both of your shoulders, gazing up into your eyes. “Y/n,” he whispered your name and closed his eyes tight, then opened them again. “I care about you. I care about you so fucking much you have no idea. I’ve always loved you. I’ve always tried to tell you I love you, but every time I think about it, my lips turn to stone and I can’t say the words and it’s like my own mind is working against me. I’ve tried to, y/n. I’ve tried to tell you so many times I’ve lost count but every time I try and I can’t it just reminds me that I can’t always succeed at everything I do. Look, I got angry or annoyed or whatever you want to call it earlier because I was jealous. I was overprotective. Every time a girl comes within so much as two feet from Pete Wentz he’s instantly after her. I didn’t want that to happen to you. I didn’t want you to be his pathetic one night stand slut. I didn’t want you to get used. I don’t want anyone to ever treat you wrong. I love Pete to death, but he fucks up sometimes too. Especially with relationships and girls. But look, the reason why I was so angry or annoyed, it was because of you. Because I want you to be mine. Nobody else’s. Y/n…” He took a big breath. “I love you. I love you so much. And I don’t know why it took me so long to say that to you, and I’m sorry it did, but I am ever so happy I’m finally able to tell those words to you now. Because you deserve them. You deserve everything in the entire world.”
“Patrick,” you breathed his name, staring at him, shocked and petrified, your mind swirling with thoughts and unable to comprehend what just happened. You were unsure of what to do, and so you just stood there, staring at him like an idiot, as if paralyzed and unable to move. You couldn’t even say anything, and even if you did, you wouldn’t know what to say. He liked you? He loved you? Did he really just say that?
“Fuck,” he ran a hand through his hair desperately. “I’m sorry, but I really need this.” And he kissed you. He held your face gently with both hands and leaned in and he kissed you, his lips pressed against yours, his breath soft and warm, everything frozen in time and washed over with bliss. He pulled away, taking a deep breath and then staring at you, a worried expression on his face.
“Thank you,” you regained your composure. You smiled up at him, and he gave a grin back, and you wrapped your arms around him, hugging him tight. “I love you too.”
“I’m sorry it took so long,” he apologized.
“It doesn’t matter,” you shook your head. “You came around soon enough.”
You released the embrace and stared at each other, and then burst out laughing. “Come on,” he beckoned. He walked with you around the building, until you found a grassy area, quiet and calm and away from everything and everyone else, and you both laid down in the grass, staring up at the dark sky full of stars.
“It’s beautiful,” you sighed.
“Did you know,” Patrick began. “There are over one hundred billion stars up there, and you are more beautiful than every single one of them?”
“Shut up,” you rolled your eyes.
“It’s true,” he insisted. “As cheesy and romantic as it sounds, it’s true.”
“No it’s not,” you shook your head and chuckled. Patrick sat up, looking at you with a frown on his face.
“You really think that?” he whispered.
“What?” you wondered, sitting up too, brushing off the grass blades from your clothes.
“You don’t think you’re beautiful?” he murmured, a hurt expression on his face.
“Patrick-” you began but he shook his head.
“Why don’t you think you’re pretty?” he sighed, exasperated, as if he couldn’t wrap his mind around the idea. “You’re gorgeous, y/n.”
“Stop,” you forced a laugh. “We don’t need to talk about this Patrick.”
“Yes, we do,” he persisted. “Y/n, why would you feel that way?”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” you replied.
“Why wouldn’t you think you’re beautiful?” he repeated.
“Because I know I’m not,” you finally answered. “It’s a fact.”
“No,” Patrick shook his head. “No, no, no.”
“Yes,” you sighed. “Yes it is. And I don’t want to talk about it. So can we please just drop the subject?”
“But why-” he kept persisting and you finally just blew up.
“Why? You want to know why? Because every single time I look in that goddamn mirror I see my reflection staring back at me and I hate it. I hate it so fucking much because I look at the people around me and I know that I will never, ever, be like them. I will never be as good as them or as pretty as them or as talented as them no matter how hard I try. Every time I try I just fail. And I’ll never deserve anyone because I’m just me. I’m stupid and pathetic and I hate myself,” you closed your eyes and tried to fight back the tears. “So don’t try to lie to me Patrick. I’m not beautiful.”
He stayed silent, staring at you with an expression on his face as if he was just shot in the chest, hurt and pained and broken on the inside, and you wondered what the fuck you said that made him look like that. Seeing him like that, it made you feel as if you just ripped out his heart. But you didn’t know why. All you were doing was just stating facts. It wasn’t even about him. “Y/n,” he choked out your name. He just looked at you, that sadness inside him practically pouring itself out, and you instantly felt guilty again and you didn’t know why. “Please, please don’t think that.” He closed his eyes tight and to your surprise, when he opened them again, he was crying. Why the hell was he crying? “Don’t hate yourself.”
“Patrick-” you began but he just shook his head.
“You might hate yourself now, but I will try every single day of my life to make you believe otherwise,” he told you. “I love you, I love you so much and I don’t know why you would ever think those things. The reason why you’re not going to be the same as other people is because you are different than all of them. You are special and important and so much better than any of them will ever be. I don’t want them, y/n. I want you. And I will always want you, because you are the most beautiful girl I have ever laid eyes on in my life. And I never want to lose you. Ever.” He took a deep breath. “So please, if not for you, then for me, just learn to love yourself. Because you are the most amazing person I’ve ever met, and I don’t want anyone else ever thinking otherwise, even if that person is you. Understand?”
“Please,” you crawled up to him and brushed the tears off his face. “Don’t cry because of me.”
“Then promise me,” he begged. “Promise me that you will learn to love yourself.”
“Patrick, I can’t fucking-” you began but he tackled you, he pushed you to the ground and planted his lips on yours midway through your sentence, catching you by complete surprise. His hands on your shoulders and his chest pressed against your breasts and his legs on top of yours, his weight almost crushing you, and he was kissing you, so passionately, and you were feeling emotions you never even realized you possessed. It was exhilarating and thrilling and so absolutely indescribable, and when he finally rolled off of you, letting you catch your breath, you weren’t even sure what had happened. All you knew was that you were laying face up on the grass, and Patrick was beside you, and you were both gasping for air.
“Promise?” Patrick panted, turning his head towards you and grinning.
“Promise,” you sighed, still trying to find oxygen.
“Glad I changed your mind,” he gave an exhausted laugh. “Holy smokes, that was amazing.”
“God, Patrick, you’re going to suffocate me,” you joked, giving him a playful punch on the shoulder.
“Ouch,” he joked.
“You lost your fedora,” you giggled, pointing over to where it had toppled off into the grass beside him. He sat up and then so did you, and he picked up his fedora and rearranged it on his head.
“Better?” he wondered.
“Yeah,” you laughed, giving him a kiss on the cheek.
“I can’t loose my fedora, it would be a tragedy,” he explained. You laughed, and then you both smiled at each other, sighing happily. “Let’s go back to the room. I should probably apologize to Pete.”
“Okay,” you nodded. You both got up and held hands, walking back into the hotel, and went to the room. Patrick got the card from his back pocket and slid it in the key, opening up the door and ushering you inside. The lights were off and Pete was already snoring, asleep, and you both exchanged a glance.
“Just stay quiet,” Patrick murmured. “Let’s not wake him up.”
“Patrick, you’ve got a show tomorrow. You need to sleep,” you reminded. “It’s late.”
“I know, but, I don’t want this to end,” he sighed.
“It doesn’t have to,” you shrugged. Patrick looked at you and then smirked, kicking off his shoes and socks and crawling into bed and underneath the sheets, taking you with him. You both laid down, your heads inches apart on separate pillows, facing each other.
“I love you y/n,” he grinned.
“I love you too, Patrick,” you replied.
“I love you more,” he added. He leaned towards you, kissing you again, and you somehow ended up on top of him, his arms wrapped around you and you sitting in his lap. Your fingers followed the rim of his fedora, and then you pulled back, watching him catch his breath.
“We won’t need this right now,” you winked, taking the fedora off his head and tossing it onto the nightstand. You kissed him again, his lips so sweet, and his hands explored your back and your fingers sifted through his long blonde hair. His tongue traced your lower lip, begging for entrance, and you opened your mouth, your tongues fighting for dominance until finally he won. You never knew Patrick to be so dominant, or confident, but tonight you were seeing so many different sides of him. It was actually quite appealing, and you found it rather hot. Damn, he sure knew how to please you. His hands on your back pressed your body closer to his, his tongue exploring your mouth, your fingers lightly tugging on locks of his hair as you moaned softly. He was so good at this. His lips slowly traveled to your cheek, and then trailed across your jawline, planting kisses down your neck. “You. Are. So. Gorgeous.” He kissed your skin between each word, and you tilted your head back when he made his way to your shoulder, the feeling something so extraordinary, you had never felt anything like it before.
“Patrick,” you begged, untying his tie and tossing it to the side, then unbuttoning his dress shirt.
“Mhm,” he nodded. He pulled away from the kisses and helped assist you, pulling off his shirt and catching his breath. He was so handsome, his chest and his stomach so smooth and soft, absolutely amazing. How do people like him even exist? You looked him up and down and smiled.
“You’re so perfect,” you gasped. You kissed him again, this time your tongue able to control the kiss, your hands scaling up and down his chest and stomach, making him moan into your mouth. He tangled his fingers in your hair, pressing your face closer to him, and when you pulled back to catch your breath, you found his hands at the hem of your shirt.
“Lift your arms up for me, sweetheart,” he ordered. You did as told, and he slipped your shirt off of you, examining you and grinning. “I can’t see how you don’t think this isn’t beautiful.” He kissed you again, and again, and again, his hands roaming all over your skin, until you pulled back and when he leaned in for another kiss, you stopped him.
“Not tonight baby,” you shook your head. “We’ll be up all night.”
He stared at you, and then nodded his head. “Okay,” he agreed. “Yeah.”
“We can’t wake up Pete,” you pointed out.
“You’re right,” he chuckled softly. He leaned towards you, but instead of kissing you, he moved his lips towards you ear and whispered, “I want to be able to hear you screaming my name.” Your eyes widened, totally taken aback that Patrick would even say something like that, but you had to admit, it was damn sexy.
“We’ll finish this up another time,” you promised. “But for now, you need to get some sleep.”
“Okay,” he complied. You laid on top of him, both of your shirts somewhere discarded on the ground now, and you rested your head on his chest, your fingers entangled in his hair, his hands rubbing small circles on your bare back, his heart close to yours, his cool breath on your face.
“Sweet dreams,” you whispered.
“Goodnight y/n,” he mumbled. He closed his eyes and you fell asleep like that, drifting off into a sweet slumber, his arms wrapped around you and keeping you safe.
When you woke up, realizing that someone was underneath you, was it Patrick? That’s when you started to remember everything. It was real. All of that was actually real. You grinned, thinking of everything he had said to you last night, and then you got up, looking at his face. He was such an adorable sleeper, his lips parted slightly, his eyes closed, his chest rising and falling with each breath. You checked the clock and realized you should probably wake Patrick up too, so you called his name several times, his eyes fluttering open and rearranging his glasses on his face. “Come on Patrick, you gotta wake up. There’s a big show today,” you reminded.
“Mmm y/n?” he grumbled, rubbing his eyes and opening them up. You crawled off of him, also remembering that you were both shirtless. You got up off the bed, picking up his fedora from the nightstand and fixing it on your head, grinning.
“You got to get up or else you won’t get your fedora back,” you teased. He sat up in bed, laughing and smiling at you.
“Was yesterday real?” he wondered.
“Sure was!” a voice made both you and Patrick jump, and sure enough, it was Pete, who had swung the bathroom door open and walked into the bedroom.
“Damn,” Patrick put a hand to his chest. “You almost scared me to death, Pete.”
“Holy shit, look at that hot girl,” Pete raised his eyebrows, looking you up and down and staring at your breasts with a playful grin. “Sure you’re just friends?”
“Shut up,” Patrick grumbled.
“Sorry,” you instantly blushed, embarrassed, and you searched the ground for your t-shirt from last night, picking it up and slipping it on.
“You don’t have to put on the shirt, honey. You look a whole lot better without it,” Pete suggested.
“Quit it,” Patrick snapped, pulling off the covers and getting out of bed.
“Woah, look at you Pattycakes! Shirtless? When was the last time I saw you shirtless?” Pete wondered.
“Stop,” Patrick demanded. “You’re being rude.”
“I’m just curious,” Pete sighed. “What can I say? It’s not everyday I find you sleeping with hot chicks, Pat.”
“Knock it off, Wentz,” Patrick warned. “Last chance.”
“Last chance or what?” Pete challenged.
“Or I’ll kick your ass,” you put your hands on your hips. Pete blinked in disbelief, and then you picked up Patrick’s wrinkled dress shirt and handed it to him, which he slipped on quickly and buttoned almost twice as fast. “Come on, Patrick. Let’s go get some breakfast.”
You tugged on his arm and the two of you left the hotel, you staring Pete down until you reached the hallway, and Patrick looked at you. “Thanks,” he chuckled sheepishly.
“He deserved it,” you shrugged.
“You look good in my fedora,” Patrick beamed.
“Nah, you look better in it,” you reassured, taking it off your head and giving it to Patrick.
“So where do you want to go?” Patrick asked. You gave him a quick peck on the cheek and pressed the elevator button.
“I don’t know,” you replied. “Anywhere.”
“Anywhere?” Patrick inquired.
“Yeah,” you nodded.
As soon as you walked out of the hotel though, there were photographers and paparazzi and interviewers flocking him. “Mr. Stump! Mr. Stump!” they all called.
“Here we go again,” Patrick chuckled. You stood beside him as they raced up to him.
“Is this the same girl from last night?”
“Who is she?”
“Why was she at your hotel with you?”
“Are you sure you’re just friends?”
“Why are you wearing the same outfit as yesterday?”
“How come you’re with this girl again?”
“Guys,” Patrick took a deep breath and grinned. “This is y/n. I’m proud to announce that she’s my girlfriend, and I love her a lot, and I think you’ll all learn to love her too.”
“Your girlfriend?” someone cried.
“Yeah,” Patrick laughed. “And she makes me the happiest man in the world.”
“I was born in 1904” “Wow you lived through the depression & the wars & Clinton & everything!” The Countess is 111 but the vampire virus keeps her young. Someone “more beautiful” than Tristan turned her into a vampire but she wouldn’t say who. There was an inference on the show tonight that she’s Mr March’s wife (& some paparazzi pics of Lady Gaga on set). The wife, Mrs March, who may or may not have been an accomplice to his serial murders could be, The Countess (look up HH Holmes on Netflix, the character Mr March, is based on him, the man was truly heinous). The Countess/Mrs March also links back to AHS Murder House.
Here’s your kpop starter list anon; I listen to more boy groups in general which is why there is significantly more for them haha. There’s obviously many more good songs but all of these aside from I think 2 are music videos. I spent a good two hours putting this together to enjoy!