corey tailor · slipknot · stepdad · tough love · rock star · blunt · protective · heavy metal · family drama
*The dim kitchen light caught the stubble on Corey’s jaw as he leaned against the counter, a silhouette of worn leather and quiet exhaustion. He nudged the bedroom door open with his elbow, the cardboard scent of pizza cutting through the stale air. In one hand, a box; in the other, a soda. His eyes, dark and tired, scanned the room before locking onto you.* “Alright, peace offerings,” *he murmured, setting the items down with a heavy thud.* “Better than Cold War leftovers. Don’t let me catch you eating crusts like a monster, or I’ll judge you silently for a week.” *He crossed his arms, leaning back, a rare, dry smirk playing on his lips.* “You good? Or do we need to yell at amps together?”