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hannie-dul-set · 2 months

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STAR STUDDED BAGGAGE [3].

SYNOPSIS. the saying “never meet your idols” exists for a reason. you just didn’t expect the reason to be because said idols would end up declaring that you’re their alleged lover from a past life (past lives, rather). now you have three big celebrities vying for your attention, and it’s not as dreamlike as you imagined it to be.

PAIRINGS. choi yeonjun, choi soobin, choi beomgyu x female! reader. GENRES. reincarnation! au, celebrity! au (soloist! yeonjun, actor! soobin, rock band member! beomgyu), slight college! au, slight historical! au, rom-com, angst, reverse harem woohoo. WARNINGS. swearing, talks about stalking, talks about death, data privacy violations, so much emotional whiplash yummy, a very long conversation, google dependent historical information. WORD COUNT. 6.3k.

NOTE. this chapter finally made its way out hell 😭😭😭 per usual, please let me know your thoughts on the chapter! a single comment on ao3 inspired me to finish this, so ur feedback really means a lot! enjoy<3

MASTERLIST | NEXT >

CHAPTER 3 — can we go back to being parasocial?

IF SOMEONE HEARS YOUR SUMMARY OF THE EVENTS THAT UNFOLDED WITHIN THE PAST FEW DAYS, they may accuse you of lying. Delusional, even. You’d think the same had you not been the center of it all— yet the proof is in your pockets. Your phone. In the album Choi Yeonjun failed to sign, stuffed inside your bag at the last minute before you left your apartment earlier.

The summary. Right. Yes.

“Can they stop sharing that video of Yeonjun excessively flirting with a fan?! I’m going to kill myself if I see it one more time.”

You were lucky enough to nab a fansign slot. But instead of getting Choi Yeonjun’s signature, you ended up getting a kiss of a hand instead, along with a scrawl of numbers on your album that you’re far too terrified to try to dial.

“Hey, send me our photo with Soobin the other day,” nudges Huening from beside you. “I’m gonna print it out and put it in a locket and use it as a family heirloom.”

You bumped into one of your favorite actors, Choi Soobin, in the middle of a late night convenience store run with your friends to fuel your group all nighter, stained his shirt with your ice cream, and got a photo with him in the process.

“By the way, have you called the business card yet? What are you gonna do with your broken phone screen?”

And Choi Beomgyu may or may not have professed his undying love for you, asked for your hand in marriage, and started crying in front of you in less than ten fucking minutes.

“She’s zoned out.”

The problem is, you can’t even bask in the delightful absurdity of it all because one common thread from all those three separate instances has been keeping you up for nights. It’s clawing at your brain, lingering in the back of your mind like an incessant stalker— which, mind you, is not a pleasant feeling when the very causes of such disturbance were once the bringers of joy and all things good in your otherwise meaningless life as a cog in the capitalist machinery that is society.

“Hello? Are you awake?”

Said problem being the fact that you’re pretty sure they all called you by your name at one point.

How the fuck do they know your name?

“I deleted Twitter. I Airdropped it to you. No, I have not called it yet. Now please let me think in peace.”

Crazy. This is all too crazy. In the first place, what are the odds that you bump into three celebrities within one week’s time? Is this some sort of prank, or something? Are those three filming a hidden camera show together? No, no. That couldn’t be because there’s no fucking way a company is sane enough to stage a risky hidden camera prank during a fansign knowing full well how obsessive and insane fans can get. You’re lucky your face wasn’t caught in any of the videos circulating online— video of you and Choi Yeonjun, mostly him, acting out a fucking sageuk. You’re lucky you haven’t been doxxed yet.

“Finish your sandwich,” Taehyun clicks his tongue, nudging your food closer to you, and you sigh heavily. Maybe you’re just wrong, you think, taking a bite from the bread. Maybe this is just a misunderstanding. Maybe you’re just overthinking.

You eat your lunch and steal some wet wipes from Gaeul in between. Right. It’s not like you’re ever gonna bump into them again. You live in, as cliche as it sounds, two different worlds after all. You’re just gonna watch their dramas, listen to their music, enjoy their performances, and that’s it that’s it that’s it.

“Prof Jang sent a message. Class is canceled.”

But still—

“Woohoo! Let’s go to the new dessert shop that opened downtown.”

Choi Beomgyu’s voice saying I love you, Choi Soobin’s cologne wafting in the air you were breathing in, and Choi Yeonjun’s lips pressed against your skin.

How can a sane person just forget about all of that?!

“Why do you look like you’re fantasizing about perverted shit?” Woohyun slaps you in the face with a reality check. This is fucking stupid.

“I’m not fantasizing,” you grunt, because they were events that actually fucking happened— they weren’t birthed from your brain’s insanity. “Anyway, dessert? Where is it?” You ignore your burning face, hoping that your friends decide to ignore it too, but Gaeul has her eyes narrowed at you. Crap. She didn’t recognize that it’s you in the videos right? Holy fucking hell, you’d rather die.

“Aren’t you gonna answer that?”

Oh. Well. That’s— that’s something. A good something because she hasn’t suspected you yet, moitioning instead to your cracked phone that has been buzzing under your notice because you’ve been thinking way too fucking much.

You check the caller ID, but it’s an unknown number, and it doesn’t match the business card you got from your run in with the alleged Choi Beomgyu. “Hello?” you answer, and a voice you don’t recognize says your name and asks if it’s you. “Yes, this is her. Who’s this?”

Another item added to the weird as fuck things that happened to your this week. You excuse yourself from your friends, and with knitted brows, you listen to the stranger at the other end of the line. “You met Choi Soobin the other day at a 7-Eleven in Gangnam, right?” The fuck? Did someone see you that day? Is this a stalker? “This is his manager. Lee Byeongho. I would like to speak with you regarding a certain matter.”

Now, hold the fucking phone.

“Is everything alright?”

You respond to Huening’s concern with a stiff smile before turning away from them. “Did I do something wrong?” you fuss into the call. “I didn’t post any of the photos from that day. I never talked about it online either, and I’m pretty sure my friends haven’t either. Wait. Wait a minute. How did you get my number?”

“Yes, it was difficult to obtain knowing only your first name and university.” That doesn’t answer your question. That just gave you more questions. “But, no. You aren’t in trouble. Actually...I called because you’re the only one who can help us— help Soobin— get out of trouble.”

Your face scrunches up.

“I’m at your campus right now. Parking lot. Do you mind meeting me for a moment?”

Just what did you get yourself into?

“You haven’t finished your food. Where are you going?”

“Somewhere,” you reply, quickly snatching your half-eaten sandwich from the table as your friends follow your swift movements with matching looks of confusion. “I’ll be right back. It’s nothing, don’t worry.” However, you are quite worried. You’re pretty sure Lee Manager, or whatever, is committing some data privacy crimes against you, but the one thing you want at the moment is answers. Your brain is about to explode from all the fucking questions and confusion. There’s a sliver of hope that meeting up with this sketchy guy can answer a few of them. You’d take that chance to air out your head.

There’s a black van in the parking lot. It’s the first thing you noticed because one of its doors are open, and there’s a familiar looking guy waiting just in front of the exposed seats.

He notices you approaching. “It’s nice to finally meet you,” he says. What’s with men you’re meeting for the first time treating you with familiarity? You’re going to rip your hair out and throw yourself into moving traffic.

“Sure, but can you get to the point?” you stiffly say. “I’m a little busy. I still have classes in a bit.”

“Of course, I’m sorry. This whole situation must’ve come off as a shock to you.” Great, now you’re feeling bad. Soobin’s manager (allegedly) looks like he’s been through a whole lot as well. “Anyway. You are a fan of Choi Soobin, correct?”

“Well,” you blink. “Yes.”

“How about the dramas Kang Jaehee has written and directed?” he follows up. “Are you a fan of those as well?”

Your brows furrow. “I guess?” Peach Tree. That Summer. Mogi. Those are the titles that come right at the top of your head. “What does that have to do anything with me?” Manager Lee spares you a look of pity. You feel like this meet-up is just set out to making you even more fucking confused.

“I sincerely apologize. I didn’t want to drag you into this either, but I’m afraid you’re the only option I have,” says Manager Lee despondently. “Since...since you are a fan of Soobin, and I assume that means you also care about his career, so—”

He pauses. Like he’s practicing the next set of words he’s about to say inside his head.

“—do you mind meeting up with him to convince him to take the lead role for Kang Jaehee’s upcoming drama?”

But nothing could’ve prepared you for that.

What.

What the fuck?

“Mr Manager. Sir,” you start, appalled beyond comprehension. “I’d appreciate it if you start making a bit more sense.”

“Trust me, I can’t believe I’m doing this either.”

You’re speechless. Your mouth is hanging open with no words coming out because, again, what the fuck? Manager Lee looks just as defeated as you, as if he weren’t the one who had just presented that ridiculous proposal. You are, quite frankly, at a discernible loss.

Manager Lee lets out a sigh and digs a hand into his pocket. “I’m afraid this is all the time I have today. But please contact me once you’ve made a decision.” Another business card acquired. This is just dandy. “I am really hoping for your cooperation, miss. I’m sure you’re aware of Soobin’s inactivity lately, and my intention of approaching you today is simply in order to help my star’s career. Please consider the favor positively, and we will compensate you as much as my authority can allow.”

With that, you’re left with another laminated piece of paper in your hands. Gosh. This is a headache. When you get back to your friends, they notice the distress you’re in, further justifying a visit to the new dessert store, and seeing how your soul has completely left your body, you’re dragged along with them with ease.

“Hey, pick one. My treat,” says Woohyun. You let out a grunt and point at a random pastry on display. Next thing you know, you’re seated in between Huening and Gaeul at the store you don’t even know the name of.

Huening is force feeding you an eclair. “Eat.” Your scowl disappears when you allow the eclair entry into your mouth. “Seriously, what’s going on with you? Who did you meet earlier?”

Seeing as you show absolutely no intentions of telling them, they refuse to question you about it further. Good on them, because there’s no way in hell you’re spilling your predicament. Not until you find out exactly what kind of situation you’re in, at the very least. The two business cards feel like they’re weighing your pockets down, a constant reminder of their existence along with the scrawl Yeonjun left behind.

“I know exactly how to make you feel better.”

The declaration comes from Gaeul, who slides her phone over to you, and when you look down to see what exactly her miracle medicine is to make you feel less manic, you hack out a cough upon seeing Choi Yeonjun’s face on her phone screen. “The hell is wrong with you?” asks Taehyun from across, giving you some water to push down the eclair lodged in your throat. “I know you like him, but even that is an overreaction.”

Jesus, you’re close to losing it. When you’ve avoided choking to death, Gaeul puts an airpod into your ear, and you hear Yeonjun reading out some comments. “Choi Yeonjun, you look really happy lately, did something good happen? someone asked,” he says while having snacks of his own. “First of all, why are you calling me Choi Yeonjun? It’s like you’re putting a wall between us. I don’t like it.”

Gaeul makes a noise of some sort and had you not been subjected to this week’s insanities, you might have reacted the same way too. Instead, you simply listen to his live in caution, feigning disinterest as you watch him nibble on some pretzels and churros through the screen, continuing to answer the slew of questions in the comments.

“Anyway, you’re right! Something good did happen.” Yeonjun hums while picking out a pretzel from the paper bag, rustling noise and a lively tune filling the audio for a moment— a short moment, right before he continues speaking. “That’s because I finally met the love of my life.”

Taehyun has to give you his water again.

“Oh? Oho, what’s with the exclamation points?” he laughs. “Did I meet them the other day? Hmm...that’s a secret. You’re curious? You think it might be you? Well, let’s see. Should I describe her?”

“God, he’s so fucking messy,” says Gaeul from beside you. “This is why I like him. How many calls is he getting for his manager and company this time?”

“What’s going on? Why is she so startled?”

“Yeonjun’s talking about his apparent soulmate, I don’t know. Wanna listen?”

“Didn’t he get in trouble for doing the same thing last time too?”

Now, you’re not one to give a shit about his love life, and you like to stay out of that side of celebrity gossip as much as you can, but Choi Yeonjun himself is droning on about the love of his life right now. You can’t not hear about it even if you want to. However, as much as you want to let things come into one ear and out through the other, you can’t. Because— wait. Wait. His description is eerily familiar. His description is making you double take and second guess what you’re fucking hearing.

“Sounds a lot like you,” Taehyun remarks without much thought, right after Choi Yeonjun says that the girl he likes has a bit of an attitude, but he likes that about her.

Huening lets out a snort. “Yeah, that’s definitely you. Why don’t you go in a wedding dress the next time you attend a fansign? Who knows, you might have a shot.”

You snap them a dirty look. Fuck. This is making your head spin. For the second time, Choi Yeonjun’s tendency of putting himself into headlines and the trending searches for doing something insane is giving you nothing but stress.

“I did give her my number, but she hasn’t messaged me yet, so I’m quite hurt.”

Number. Hold on a fucking second.

“The comments are going crazy.”

You grab your bag from underneath you, dropping it down to your lap.

“Hey, if you’re watching this, pl—eeeeease contact me. Kim Noona thinks I have a phone addiction now because I’ve been dying waiting for your call.”

You quickly get up from your seat.

“Yo, where are you going this time?”

“I need a minute,” you announce, eyes scanning the store for a quiet place alone while hugging your bag to your chest. There’s nowhere. Looks like you have to get out.

“Damn, we were just joking. As if you have a chance with a celebrity like him.”

Huening’s joke is ignored and you quickly leave outside the doors, making a sharp turn around the corner, slipping through the passersby downtown until you find an empty alley. Your heart is racing. Your heart is racing like crazy and you may be reaching right now. You may be acting crazy, but what Choi Beomgyu said during the interview with Yeong-Il the other day is echoing in your mind, and— in conjunction with everything else that had happened— you’re starting to think that maybe he wasn’t joking.

Your cracked phone screen greets you when you take it out of your pocket. On your other hand is the first business card you got this week.

“Who’s this?”

“Hello. Good day.” You tell them your name, the events that led up to you receiving this number, with the hope that maybe you’re finally on to something. “I’d like to talk about the compensation for my broken phone.”

Whatever that something is, you’re gonna get to the bottom of it.

It’s already beyond closing time at Kwiyeomdongmoim Cafe (a mouthful, you know), yet your pink apron is still neatly tied around your waist as you pace back and forth, to and fro, in circles inside the breakroom. The time is half-past nine in the evening. You should’ve clocked out thirty minutes ago, but you’re still waiting.

The knock on the door signified the end of your wait. You turn to see your boss’s head popping in through the half-open crack.

“Three guys are waiting for you,” informs Seokmin. “They all seem handsome. Are they your suitors?”

When you ditched your friends at the still unnamed dessert store the other day, you did it to make a few calls. Three, to be exact. Today is the culmination of those calls, which is why you’ve been erratically nervous the entire freaking day. Choi Soobin, Choi Beomyu, and Choi Yeonjun’s managers all answered respectively when you called all the sketchy numbers you got and made some negotiations (apparently, the mess on your album is Yeonjun’s number, but he got his phone confiscated after that livestream).

“As if,” you say, walking up to the door leading back into the cafe. Suitors, more like stalkers. Fans stalking their idols is common, but the other way around is a pretty fresh idea. “Anyway, thanks, Kyeom. Thank you for letting me use the store for a while.” Because this is the only private place you can think of outside of your own home— and there’s no way in hell you’re letting them in there when you don’t even know how they managed to get hold of your personal information.

“We’re closed anyway.” Seokmin smiles and makes way for you to pass by. “Go ahead and do your thing. Do you want me to stay inside or keep watch?”

“You can stay inside, it’s alright.”

He nods. “Call me when you’re done. Scream if you need backup. I can handle all of them.”

You laugh and thank him once more, a pat on his arm before you decide to peek out the door first as a precautionary measure. From your spot, you can see three thoroughly covered men in windbreakers, caps, and masks sitting on three separate tables in the store. The blinds have already been rolled down, so you can’t see anything outside, but there doesn’t appear to be any cameras around, so you take it as a safe sign to finally leave your hiding spot.

The moment you do, the break room door creaks, and all three pairs of eyes immediately fall on you.

They stand up. They call out your name in unison.

Holy shit.

And when they do, they all look at each other with a sudden flash of hostility in the air.

Um. Well. How are you supposed to do this? “H—hello,” you manage to squeak out, prompting their attention once more. Soobin takes off his cap and removes his mask, the other two following suit, and oh my god. Oh my god. You suck in a deep breath. Today, you are not a fan. You are an interrogator. This is not a fansign. This is an interrogation.

“I— uh, I asked your managers if I can meet you all to—today for a specific reason.” Wow. Good job. Your hands are shaking and you can’t look up from the floor or else you’d start losing your mind. “But—but, before that— would...would you like some drinks…?”

Interrogation paused. You need to get your shit together first.

“Please enjoy.”

With the help of your boss (because your hands wouldn’t stop shaking and you dropped the first one you made), you managed to whip up four iced teas and settle all three of them into one table at the very back of the store. You send a stiff smile at Seokmin after he placed all the drinks on the table.

God, you owe him so much— especially when he’s being unreasonably glared at by the three men sitting with you right now. Choi Beomgyu to your left, Choi Soobin to your right, Choi Yeonjun directly across from you and holy fuck, you have yet to look at them properly yet for your own safety. They haven’t been talking to each other either, simply sitting and waiting for you to speak. You’re pretty sure they know each other though, at least by name, being in the same industry and all.

To say that the tension in the air is suffocation would be an understatement. How...how do you start this? The fuck should you say first?

“You know, I was really happy when Kim Noona told me you called.”

Apparently you don’t have to start it. Choi Yeonjun does it for you.

“But why are these two crashing our date?”

And that’s when things also start to get messy.

“Date?” Choi Soobin interjects. He sounds offended. Why does he sound offended. “What are you talking about?”

Choi Yeonjun doesn’t get a chance to make his case. Because Choi Beomgyu from your left suddenly snatches one of your hands from the table, prompting you to look at one of them for the first time tonight, and your eyes fly wide open. “I’d...like to apologize for the other day. I was just overtaken by my emotions. I hope you weren’t too freaked out.”

You are quite freaked out because holy shit, this is too much maybe. Not maybe. Yes. This is too much. Too. Much.“Hey, why are you holding her hand?!” you hear Choi Soobin exclaim from your other side. Choi Beomgyu’s soft expression suddenly disappears into a glare and a sneer the moment he shifts his gaze.

“You’re holding her hand too!”

“Why can’t I?!”

“Hey, this isn’t fair! One of you switch with me—”

Dizzy. You’re feeling dizzy. Your head is spinning and you’re suffocating from the heat emanating from your very face. Whatever they’re arguing about isn’t even reaching your ears anymore. You’re getting lightheaded and your sweaty hands start slipping out from the two’s weirdly tender hold on your hands because your body is physically breaking down.

“Shut up! Oh my god, my head—”

Your vision actually starts spinning for a second so you quickly bring the bottom of your palms to your temples, elbows on the table to balance yourself, only to be wobbled and shaken because the three suddenly jolted off their seats in panic.

“Are you okay?!”

“I’m fine, just please—for the love of god— sit down and shut up.”

They sit down and shut up. You massage your temples in silence. You remove your hands from your face and, after sucking in a deep breath and releasing it thereafter, feel your heartbeat settling into a normal rate. As normal as it can get in this situation.

“Whew. Okay. I think I’m ready. Let’s get down to business.” Finally, you’re the one steering the conversation. You give each of them a once over as quickly as possible because now you know that prolonged eye contact will only hurt you. You settle with looking at the gaps between each of them. That’s fine. You’re fine. “Choi Soobin, Choi Yeonjun, Choi Beomgyu.”

It’s like three bulbs just lit up in succession. Your brain is starting to hurt.

“A—as I was saying, you three are some of South Korea’s biggest celebrities and although I am, in fact, a big fan of all three of you—” Why is Choi Soobin growing pink. Why the fuck is he blushing. “—that— that does not make me fail to recognize the amount of weird shit that’s been happening lately, and I think I need answers.”

They are still sitting down and shutting up. They listen to instructions well, at the very least.

“First, how the fuck did all three of you know my name without any prior introduction. Second—”

The words get clamped in your throat. It’s lodged in there very tightly because you make the mistake of looking one of them in the eye, only to notice that all three of them are looking at you with the same expression. An expression you can only describe as longing.

And your face starts burning.

“Se— second, why…why do you all keep looking at me like I’m an ex you want to get back together with…?”

Maybe you asked the wrong question.

Because for some reason they all look sad now. Really sad. Really fucking sad and it’s making your stomach clench and nerves all numb and funky because making three big celebrities all sad simultaneously is a bragging right at one end of the spectrum, and a national crime at the other.

It’s Choi Soobin who cracks the silence. “I…I had a feeling when I saw you again for the first time at the store.” Again? “Do you not remember me?”

Your face furrows. “No…? Did we ever meet before you became an actor?”

Hurt. The look of sadness has now spiraled into hurt and one might think you just stabbed and twisted a knife into his fucking gut. “How—how about me?” Your attention turns to Choi Yeonjun who isn’t looking any better. It’s like his entire world view was just proven to be wrong and why does it feel like you’re the one to blame.

What else can you do but shake your head in denial? Now he looks like he’d just been told he’s adopted!

“You’re…you’re joking,” he tries to laugh it off, but it only comes off as strained and shaky, then, in one fell swoop— desperate. “R—right…?”

“Great!”

Before you start feeling even shittier, Choi Beomgyu finally decides to join in.

“And here I thought her forgetting about me was the worst case scenario.” His tone is bitter. There’s a snap in his words. “I didn’t think there’d be other bastards in the same situation as me. God fucking damn it.”

There’s a moment of silence. You watch as realization hits the other while you’re still left in the dark. Choi Yeonjun juts his seat closer. Choi Soobin tries to reach a hesitant arm to your direction, but you’re tugged to the other side by Choi Beomgyu, who’s suddenly a little too, too close.

“Hey.”

Your hands are clamped together.

“I meant it when I said I love you. I do. I have loved you four hundred years ago and I still love you now, and if whatever god or deity decides to make you meet you for the third time, I’ll still love you then.”

Beomgyu’s holding both of them in between his in a firm grip.

“Second life is about you. Blue Spring is about you. You’re the person I’ve been waiting for from the beginning of this life until the last.”

Now, if this situation wasn’t crazy, your heart would be skipping a beat right now.

But it is crazy. This is fucking insane. And you look around to see that there’s a weird look of sympathy and understanding in the other Choi’s eyes, clearly not recognizing the visceral insanity of this situation, which fills you with a swallowing lump of existential dread. You pry your hands out of Beomgyu’s grasp (you swear you can hear glass breaking), and slowly turn to Choi Yeonjun and say, with a very hesitant, very cautious, “Y...you too…?”

The look on his face says it all. And then you swivel over to Choi Soobin.

“And you?”

“I’ve lo—”

“No!” you snap. “Don’t finish that sentence. Please. Oh my god.”

You see Seokmin popping his head out from the corner, mouthing an are you okay? and you shakily bring up a weak thumbs up. “Well, isn’t this interesting,” you hear Choi Yeonjun say, which feels like a slap in the face because what exactly is interesting about this. “Here I thought I was special.”

“Get off your high horse,” retorts Choi Soobin, a sneer in his voice. You double take. Choi Soobin is supposed to be sweet and gentle and kind. Who is this man? “Whatever kind of past you had with her doesn’t mean anything. I met her first. I met her at the end of King Danjong’s rule.”

“Ha!” Choi Yeonjun starts. “We got married under King Taejong. I’ve loved her before any of you did.”

Now, what the fuck?

Choi Soobin’s face pales and he chokes over his words. “M—married?”

There’s a smug grin on Choi Yeonjun’s face. He leans back against the chair with his arms crossed in victory. “You heard that correctly. Married. Pack up your bags. Unless you want me to tell you everything we did on our we—”

“Shut up, shut up, I don’t want to hear it!”

Marriage. King Danjong. King Taejong. Second life. The gears are churning inside your head. You don’t like the direction where the gears are pointing.

“What about you?”

Choi Yeonjun raises the question and the attention is now on Choi Beomgyu. He’s been quiet. The other two wait for him to say his piece— a feigned air of disdain and arrogance but there’s an unconcealable undertone of nervousness underneath it all. Your iced teas have been left untouched. Choi Beomgyu simply scoffs and presses his crossed arms against his chest.

“I have no reason to tell you any of that. This is between me and her.”

And at your mention, you receive the undivided attention of three pairs of eyes once more. Your heart rattles. God fucking damn it. Listen, you’re an avid consumer of the entertainment industry. You’ve watched a good amount of dramas and have read a good amount of manhwas to surmise a conclusion with the bits and pieces of stray information being tossed back and forth between the three. And it’s all ridiculous. But you have nothing else to work with unless they come spilling their guts themselves.

“So,” you clear your throat. “Are you three, like…a couple…hundred years old…?”

They all look offended.

“No!”

Well, maybe you’re wrong about that part. But after a very long, convoluted discussion, the “facts” (if you can even call it that), are finally laid down on your feet.

They say you’ve all met before. Separately, in three separate lifetimes, with this one allegedly being your fourth unless there were lives in between that they can’t remember. One thing for certain is that the three of them remember the life they had while loving you— and they loved you very much apparently because those feelings and memories got carried over even after they got reborn into the present day.

The problem is, you don’t have the same symptoms. You don’t remember anything about your past lives. Hell, you can’t even remember anything in this life before you hit two years old.

You slump in your seat. The table rattles. They get up from their chairs and come circling around you in concern.

“Are— are you okay, do you need to lie down? You could rest in my van for a while and—”

You swat Choi Yeonjun’s hand away before it could land on your shoulder. You’ve now got your hands on your face in stress, and peeking through you see Choi Soobin on your right, crouching down and looking up at you with furrowed brows and big, sad eyes. On your left is Choi Beomgyu, half-seated on the chair. You let out a very long, very anguished and muffled groan. This is too much. “If— if what you guys are saying is true,” you say. “What does it matter?”

There’s a tense pause in the air.

“What do you mean…?”

You spring up from your seat and turn around, Choi Yeonjun in front of you.

“I mean what does it all matter? King Sejeong, Joseon era, or whatever— I don’t care about all of that. We’re in the twenty-first century right now. I’m neither your lover nor your wife. I’m just a fan of your dramas and music and performances and that's it.”

You squeeze your eyes shut. You don’t really want to see their faces right now. You let a huff of air slip past your lips, turning back around to collect the untouched glasses of drinks on the table.

“Thank you for taking the time out of your busy schedule to meet me and explain. I hope it’s all settled. Thanks for clearing everything up today. You can now all leave.”

It’s Choi Yeonjun who races after you when you make your firm and quick strides to the counter. He cuts off your path. “I—I don’t understand,” he chokes out. You make the mistake of meeting his gaze and see the threat of tears glazing his eyes. “What—what do you mean?”

Admittedly, that hurled a giant pang against your ribcage, knocking the air out of your chest, but you move forward. You brush past him, setting the glasses back on the counter, and— after a moment’s pause— you turn around, a heavy weight on your shoulders. It’s like gravity is trying to suck you deep into the mantle. “What I’m trying to say is we should all just get over what happened all those hundreds of years ago and live our lives in the present. I mean, I don’t know any of you. Don’t you think it’s unhealthy to keep clinging onto the past, especially when you guys are nothing but strangers to me in this life?”

Dead silence. You don’t dare look at any of them in the face. You try and retreat to the break room as quickly as you can, hands fumbling to untie your apron along the way, but you stumble over your steps, screeching to a halt the moment you hear someone say—

“Do you think it’s that easy?”

You could hear your heart in your eardrums.

It takes all the strength in your body for you to look back, to see the pained expression on Choi Beomgyu’s face standing the farthest away from you out of the three. “Do you think I put my name out there so that it’d be easier for you to find me, wrote all those songs about you in the hopes that I could see you again if you’re someone I can just easily forget?”

Your throat tightens. It’s like you’re swallowing a boulder.

“If you wanted me to forget about you, you shouldn’t have died right in front of me then. You shouldn’t have told me you loved me right before you went cold in my arms if you wanted me to fucking forget.”

Oh.

Oh, god.

Choi Yeonjun and Choi Soobin don’t look any better. It hits you that you might have been more than a little bit unfair.

“I’m sorry.”

You don’t know your history. You don’t know what the fuck happened between you and them throughout those years that made them feel so strongly about you. But it must be harder for those who remember than for those who forgot.

It’s not like they chose to live in the present with half of their souls stuck in the past, either. You’ve been acting awfully unfair.

“I was being insensitive. I’m so sorry,” you exhale. Your knees feel like they’re about to buckle. Your head is spinning in circles. “But to be honest, this is all still very overwhelming, and I’m having a hard time comprehending and making sense of everything. It doesn’t feel real.” You try to take a step closer, but your legs give in. Choi Yeonjun quickly rushes to balance you back on your feet.

“Don’t push yourself,” he says, softly. You can’t look at him. God, these guys really know how to bring your guilt all the way home.

“Thanks, um, anyway—” You breathe in. Shit, you can’t believe you’re considering this. “Again, I really can’t and won’t be able to understand the magnitude of your— well, uh— feelings, since I really don’t remember anything. But how about…I spend some time with each of you individually, and maybe…maybe it can help in jogging back my memories?”

The atmosphere shifts. Ah. This feels like a fucking trap.

“You— you mean it?”

To be honest, you’d much rather just not deal with any of this, just stay at home and continue living your life with these three men as persons you only know behind the screen. But those looks in their eyes— hopeful and melancholic— make you feel your organs are being rearranged every five seconds, and you’d feel bad leaving them with the pain of this conversation especially after they poured out their hearts to you.

You can’t deny the joy and escape they’ve given you for the past couple of years you’ve spent as their fan. Maybe entertaining this unreality is the least you can do.

“I mean, well,” you start, clearing your throat. “Choi Beomgyu, you still need to pay for my phone. Choi Soobin, your manager wanted me to talk to you about something, and Choi Yeonjun—”

You look at the guy who still has one arm pressed against your back, two hands in a firm grip on your shoulders. He’s looking at you and batting his eyes expectantly. You let out a sigh and set yourself loose.

“I need to discuss something with you soon, too.” As in, please stop vaguely mentioning me in your live streams because I fear I might find an angry mob in front of my house. “I think I have all your contact information anyway.”

There aren’t any more reactions coming from them. This seems like the best possible solution for all of you. You sigh again. This has been an emotionally draining evening. You can’t wait to get some fucking rest.

“I’ll be in touch with you or your managers soon. For now, let’s call it a day.”

STAR STUDDED BAGGAGE. © hannie-dul-set, 2024.

#tomorrow x together x reader #txt x reader #choi yeonjun x reader #choi soobin x reader #choi beomgyu x reader #txt scenarios #tomorrow x together scenarios #txt x you #tomorror x together x you #soobin x reader #yeonjun x reader #beomgyu x reader #txt fanfic #choi soobin x you #choi beomgyu x you #choi yeonjun x you

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paradiseprincesss · 27 days

Text

don't wanna break up again - jackson rippner x reader

masterlist

note: this was supposed to be a short drabble...sigh. anyway, fic 3 out of 13 for my little eternal sunshine album collection mwahhahaha.

summary: jackson happens to falls in love with his targets girlfriend, and he sees how badly she's being mistreated. even though he has to kill his target for work reasons, he decides that he's going to also save the woman he'd been falling for, too.

word count: 3.2k

warnings: 18+ mdni, murder, toxic/abusive relationship, cheating (not by jackson), domestic violence, kissing, swearing, soft!dark jackson, implications to sex but no actual smut

jackson sighed as he watched from the drivers seat of his blacked out car, staring up at your apartment window that was wide open - no curtains drawn.

you see, he was given the task to assassinate your boyfriend, as he worked a government job and jackson needed a few files wiped, per se. he knew that your boyfriend, specifically, would have access to these files, as he worked in a certain department, and jackson was set on having him wipe said files, then killing him afterwards.

he'd been stalking this man for months, watching his every move, learning his daily routines and usual habits, but he hadn't actually caught a glimpse of you until last week. at first, he thought that you were some chick that the man he was stalking was hooking up with, but he soon discovered that you were actually his girlfriend.

jackson was disgusted - not with you of course, but with your boyfriend. he has seen that sleazy, pathetic excuse of a man bring over multiple different women in the span of the last few months, but he had no idea that he had a whole girlfriend on the side. it made him scoff, this man was a joke.

and if he was being honest, he felt a little bad for you. you were beautiful, there was no denying that, it was a fact. with your gorgeous hair and your pretty face, you were the definition of stunning, but apparently your boyfriend had wandering eyes. jackson didn't have a girlfriend, as he was much too involved with his job to keep up with a relationship, but if you were his, he'd never treat you this way.

he'd spoil you, take care of you, and protect you the best he could. he always wondered why the men who looked like they were barely clinging to life got the prettiest girls - just to mistreat them and cheat on them. so, he watched. he watched as your boyfriend seemed to be screaming at you about something, and you stood there with tears streaming down your face, shaking your head.

"you're just too much!" your boyfriend screamed at you, and you broke down into tears.

you'd caught him with another woman in your bed earlier on in that day, and he was losing it on you; as if it was your fault. this wasn't the first time that the two of you had this conversation, it was a repetitive, toxic cycle. he'd cheat on you, you'd scream and ask him why, and he would gaslight you into staying.

jackson couldn't make out what you were saying to each other from his car, but he knew that he felt sympathetically towards you. that was rare for him, he almost never felt sympathy, but this was almost too much, even for someone who killed others for a living.

jackson watched as you slammed the door of the bedroom, now glancing over to the bedroom window, and he saw you sobbing on the bed. his heart broke a little for you, honestly, you were too pretty to be putting up with that. as you got into bed and flicked off the light, he noticed your boyfriend turning up the sound on the tv in the living room.

as you fell asleep crying, he turned up the tv to drown it out. even jackson thought this guy was heartless, he didn't want to hear his own girlfriend cry over the fact that he'd cheated, so he drowns out her sorrows with some bullshit tv show? gross.

jackson kept on stalking the man, but noticed that after roughly an hour and a half, the bedroom lights flicked on again. you couldn't sleep. it seemed you were having yet another sleepless night, and it was taking its toll on you. jackson sighed to himself and put his car into drive, going back to his hotel for the night.

however, it seemed he was going to have a sleepless night as well. he couldn't shake the thought of you and the way you were being treated. he didn't know why he cared, it wasn't like him to, but he just did. jackson had dated his fair share of women, and sure, he may not have been the best boyfriend but he wasn't anything like the man you were dating.

that night, jackson fell asleep in the very early hours of the morning, after the thoughts of you lingered in his mind all night. he'd woken up a little later on in the day, not particularly in a rush as he knew your boyfriends usual routine by now, and he didn't feel the need to watch his absolute every move at the moment. he woke up hungry, and decided he was going to get some food at a local cafe in the area.

so, he drove his car for about twenty minutes, google mapping a good place to eat, and eventually he found one. he parked his car and walked into the cafe, ordered what he wanted, and sat down as he enjoyed his meal in solitude. as he was scrolling through the messages on his phone after breakfast, he looked up to see who had walked into the quiet, little cafe.

it was you.

the girl from last night, and the week before. the girl who'd managed to plague the infamous jackson rippners thoughts. he glanced at you quickly, trying not to be obvious. he then went right back to scrolling on his phone as he pretended not to notice you. as you ordered your usual morning coffee, you waited by the counter for the barista to finish making it.

you wore a pretty sundress and strappy heels, with your hair and makeup done nicely, accentuating your beauty. jackson couldn't help but notice how good you looked - even last night when you were crying you looked pretty, and he'd always liked a pretty crier.

he must've been staring for a bit too long, however, as he noticed you smiled politely at him. whoops, he definitely had been staring for way too long. he smiled back at you a little awkwardly; you know - that smile you do when you make eye contact with an attractive stranger. after being caught very obviously checking you out, and he couldn't help but say something.

"i'm sorry," he said with a soft laugh, "you're just really pretty."

this made you blush a little, and you smiled sweetly at the handsome stranger. "oh, thank you. you're very sweet."

"ah, just pointing out the obvious." he says back.

jackson gets up and gets ready to leave, as he feared he may of said a little too much. i mean, you don't go around flirting with your next murder victims girlfriend.

"wait," your soft voice said to him, "i think i saw you yesterday, outside of my boyfriends place."

his heart dropped - had you seen him stalking your boyfriend? hopefully not. he laughed nervously, trying to muster up some form of a believable excuse, but you spoke before he had a chance to.

"sorry, i swear i'm not a stalker," you laugh, "small world, s'all."

he was a little confused - were you not aware that he was parked out there for hours watching the two of you? going along with it, he smiled and shook his head. "don't worry, you don't look like the stalker type," he joked, "i was just waiting for my girlfriend, but we had an argument so she ended up going to bed and bailing on our plans."

his lie came out flawlessly - easily believable, he thought as he knew that you would most likely fall for this excuse. your smile faltered a little, but you tried to play it off.

why was he calling you pretty if he had a girlfriend?

your thoughts echoed in your mind, but you tried to ignore them; maybe he was just one of those guys.

"ah, gotcha," you say quietly, "sounds annoying - trust me, i get it. anyways, sorry for prying."

"oh, it's fine. relationships take a lot work, right?" he says softly, and you nod. "something like that." you say back, and he noticed your demeanour change slightly. you seemed almost depressed, like a full on 180 from the girl you were five minutes ago.

he watched you silently for a few more seconds, before speaking up again. why couldn't he just let it go?

"are you-" he paused with a sigh, "are you okay? i mean, i'm not trying to pry or anything but i could see him yelling at you and y'know, just figured i'd make sure you were alright incase anything was happening."

you look at him a small smile, "yeah, um, everything is fine. we just argue sometimes. shit happens."

he listens your words with a small nod, "ah, gotcha. well, it was nice talking to you, maybe i'll see you around again sometime." he tells you, and with that, he was walking out the door.

the next few weeks were pretty uneventful, jackson followed your boyfriend around everywhere, but he still needed him to delete those incriminating files he was after. however, this week was the week jackson decided he was going to go in for the kill - he'd learned all of your boyfriends little quirks, hobbies, behaviours, and routines. he could easily sneak in, threaten him, then murder him.

nightfall came around, and jackson was parked outside in his car again. he waited until it was nearly midnight so that others wouldn't see him sneak in, as a majority of people were asleep by twilight on a tuesday night. stealthily, he made his way through the lobby of the apartment building, and up the stairs as the elevator required a resident key.

he made his way up to the seventh floor, pushing past the emergency exit doors as he quietly walked the dimly lit hallways. now standing face to face with your boyfriends apartment - unit 739 - he was about to break in; he knew your boyfriend never locked his doors at night. as his hand reached to grab at the unlocked door handle, he suddenly heard a female voice sobbing from the other side.

oh. you were here.

being as quiet as he could, he listened to see what was going on inside, as he was originally under the impression your boyfriend was all alone tonight.

"stop fucking with my head, i can't take it anymore!" you sobbed, and the sound of some sort of glass shattering could be heard in the background, "and stop fucking throwing things at me!"

jackson was immediately concerned. was your boyfriend hurling glass objects at you? listening in once more, he could hear your boyfriend incoherently yelling something in the background, but it seemed you were closer to the door than he was. from the sounds of it, at least.

"i made it so easy!" you screamed, "i spent so much on therapy, i worked on my own co-dependancy but you didn't even try!"

"what was i supposed to do, huh?" your boyfriend yelled back, "i went to one session with you after you fucking hassled me about it for months!"

"because you keep cheating on me! and when you get mad at me, you hurt me!" you cry out, and your boyfriend could be heard yelling back at you.

jackson knew this technically was none of his business, his only job was to kill your boyfriend for his own selfish reasons, but he couldn't just leave you here. sure, jackson was borderline sociopathic and barely had a heart, but he couldn't help but think of how much better he'd treat you if you were his.

you were always on his mind, he was fascinated with you. the more he got little glimpses of you, the more he wanted to know you, to take care of you, and to save you.

sighing to himself, he slammed the door open and made his way inside. it went quiet as you and your boyfriend realized someone had perhaps just broken in, and as soon as jackson got to the living room, he pointed a gun to your boyfriend.

he looked at you for a moment, and you looked terrified - but not of him. you were covered in bruises and scrapes, and your makeup was running from your tears. you almost looked relieved to see jackson there, gun pointed at your abusive, piece of shit boyfriend.

he said your boyfriends name aloud, and proceeded to give him commands as he pointed his gun directly at your boyfriends head, finger ghosting the trigger.

"the files regarding the mass murders on fight 577," he spoke lowly, "i need those erased, and i know you have access to them on your computer."

"hey man, i think you got the wrong house." your boyfriend says, putting his hands up as he looks between you and jackson, "just get out of here and i won't call the cops, swear man. you didn't see nothing, and i ain't seen nothing."

"delete the files before i pull the trigger and blow your fucking brains out." jackson threatened, and the gun made a small click sound.

"a-alright, jesus christ, bro." your boyfriend said wearily, and he picked his laptop up off the coffee table, opening it.

"sweetheart," jackson says as he turns to look at you, gun still aimed at your boyfriend, "could you do me a favour and stand here beside- actually no, stand behind me, please."

you look at him nervously, and he noticed you were still scared. he didn't blame you, though. first, your boyfriend was beating you and throwing glass at you, and now a man who you'd recognized had broken in, and had a gun pointed at your boyfriend; it must've been traumatizing for you, he thought.

"i'm not going to hurt you." he tells you softly, and hesitantly, you make your way over to his side, stepping behind him as he looks back at your boyfriend.

his tone suddenly shifted into something a lot more menacing as he spoke to your boyfriend again. "show me the file is deleted, or i'll kill you right here, right now."

with trembling hands, your boyfriend showed jackson the laptop with the files permanently erased. "s-see, all gone." your boyfriend said, but jackson still had his gun pointed to him.

"i'm going to need you to turn around," he tells you softly, "this will only take a second, alright sweetheart?"

you nod, and turned yourself around as you heard a single gunshot go off. panic surged through your veins as you weren't sure what to do now, but a gentle hand on your back brought you down for a moment.

"you're okay, you're safe now." his soft voice comforted you, and he takes your hand in his as he walks with you out of the apartment.

the next hour or two goes by in a blur, you aren't really sure what happened; it was a lot for you. all you could remember was jackson gently guiding you to his car, and whispering soft, comforting words to you. then, the two of you drove to some unknown location - about an hour out from the city, and now you were here, in some random hotel room.

jackson was currently rummaging around the drawers in the room while you were sitting on the bed, still trying to process. you didn't understand why you let yourself be whisked away by some stranger (murderer), but you did. to be fair, he did kill the one man who was reigning terror on your life. jackson noticed you spacing out once more, and he sat by your side, putting a gentle hand on your thigh.

"you alright, sweetheart?" he asks sweetly.

you look over at him and sigh, "yeah, m'sorry. i-i just..." you try to get the words out, but he shushed you.

"i understand," he tells you, "i know that was a lot, but you're safe now."

"who even are you?" you ask suddenly, "i'm assuming the whole 'girlfriend' thing was a coverup or something."

he nods, hand still resting on your thigh. "my name is jackson rippner - yes my parents hated me and yes i killed them." he said, but he smiled when he noticed your reaction, "i'm just joking, sort of. anyways, i work in a certain field, you could say, and your douchebag ex-boyfriend had some information that could potentially have me indicted. i needed that information gone, so i had to figure out a way to get it erased."

as he explained it, you felt your mind spin. "but do you have a girlfriend?" you asked.

he let out a small laugh, and looked at you with a raised brow. "that's the part that you're concerned about?"

"yeah," you say, smiling a little, "would you rather i be concerned about the other stuff?"

"no," he says, "obviously not, but since you're wondering, no. i don't have a girlfriend."

you nod, humming in response. for a moment, it was quiet; just the two of you sitting beside each other as the reality of the last few hours set in. honestly, it was peaceful in the most fucked up way. "were you stalking me or...?" you ask.

"nope, i didn't even get a glimpse of you until a few months in," he explained with a sigh, "but i saw you, and i dunno - i just saw the way he was treating you, and i thought it was pretty fucked up."

"yeah," you agreed, "in a weird way, i'm grateful for you doing...what you did."

"i'm glad," he smiles softly with that signature charming smile that made your heart melt, "i meant it when i said you're really pretty, by the way."

you blushed and looked over at him, his blue eyes staring right back at you. jackson was still jackson at the end of the day, and he was a little unhinged, so if you were to let's say - reject him - he would definitely force you into being with him either way. he would totally hold you hostage, but he didn't have to worry about that because you seemed pretty into him, too.

you leaned in subconsciously, and he leaned in too. before you knew it, his soft lips were on yours, and you were wrapping your arms around his neck and he kissed you.

"let me treat you right," he whispered against your lips breathlessly, "i'd do anything for you, i'd spoil you, get you whatever you wanted. you don't even have to work, just stay home and wait for me."

the thought of being his little housewife was a major turn on, if you were being honest. "mm, yeah?" you whisper back, and he pulls you into another heated kiss, wrapping his arms around you.

"i'd never break your heart like he did, sweetheart. you're going to be mine forever." he whispered, kissing your neck softly while he pushed you down onto the bed. "i'll spoil you rotten and get you cockdrunk every fucking night, how does that sound, honey?"

"sounds like the dream." you say, and he smirked at you softly - your heart would never break again as long as you were his; he'd make sure of it.

taglist (join here!): @bloodandglitter207, @humbuginmybones, @futurefamousdeadmusician, @jonathancraneslittlepet,

@abigailinterrupted, @kpopgirlbtssvt, @ll4n4, @ilovetoxicfictionalmen, @the-buddy-things,

@ellebelleshelby, @aprilsfrog05, @wiseyouthinfluencer

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eddiernunson · 9 months

Text

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

601 notes · View notes

musicforastylesrestaurant · 8 months

Text

We Could Be The Greatest Team.

(Y/N) JENNER, best known for being on the reality tv show ‘keeping up with the kardashians.’ She’s also known to be the gorgeous fiancé of pop sensation, the one and only Mr. Harry Styles.

With her growing up with five sisters, that made her a very family oriented person, and Harry likes to think that trait is what got him to initially ask her to be his in the first place.

There first proper date took place in 2013, the two of them being only nineteen at the time, they didn’t want everyone getting involved in there relationship because it was there private life, that was until they chose to go to her older sister, Kim’s wedding where the two were pictured together, very very, close.

2017 was a very big year for the two of them. The year they got engaged to each other. Harry got down on one knee in his Italian villa, there first proper house together that they brought, because in his eyes he knew they would spend forever together.

(Y/N) has been there through it all, so there was no doubt he wanted her to be his wife. On the tours, when One Direction went on there hiatus, when his solo album was released and when he won his Grammy’s she was there to hold his hand and would always be able to ground him if he was having a slightly bad day. Never wanting to go to bed without saying those three simple words.

There wedding was supposed to be in the summer of 2020, but so many obstacles got in there way, COVID, stress from cancelled tours and well a baby. A bouncing baby boy who came screaming into the world in September, 2021.

Sonny Harry Robin Styles.

There journey was a love story like no other, and nothing could ever break them apart. They were a team, two peas in a pod, the yin to her yang, the bestest of friends.

authors note: this isn’t really a series per say, in my opinion it’s more a trope then anything else. when inspiration strikes or i get a certain request, they will get published and tagged here for you all to see:)

if a tag list is something you would like me to set up, let me know <3

real life:

instagram concepts:

305 notes · View notes

marlenesluv · 6 months

Note

could u do a charles x country singer reader with a megan moroney fc (i love her)

Country Feels. (CL)

awww yes yes, i can do this!! i hope you like it :)

pairing: charles leclerc x country singer!reader

fc: megan moroney

warnings: none

masterlist here -> masterlist link

^ check my list for all posts! ^

liked by: charles_leclerc, oliviarodrigo, and 281,913 others

y/n.user: thank you, vegas🎲🎰

view comments…

countrybb12: my girl played in vegas WOOOOO

user2: stunning, as always!!!

cl16fp: charles? what are you doing hereeee?

yourbsf: ilysm, you were fabulous💗

↳ y/n.user: thank you, hun🥹💗

f1updates: charles following her for a while and is now liking all her posts? okkk mr. sly guy👀

user7: okay queen of country was in my AREAAA

oliviarodrigo: you did soooo amazing!! love you❤️‍🔥

↳ y/n.user: thank you, ma’am ❤️‍🔥

footlooselovaaa: the dresssssss <333

y/nseditsfp8: can’t wait to be able to go to one of your shows!! you’re amazing

user5: hair looks so good! loved seeing you here 🥹

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

liked by: y/n.user, carlossainz55, and 871,014 others

charles_leclerc: vegas, baby👀🪩

view comments…

user6: SLAY SHIRT SLAYYYYY

f1updates: he’s vegas man

y/n1fp: anyone find it a little interesting that y/n is in vegas for her tour and here charles is, in vegas and posting a backstage view of a show that looks a lot like hers? 🤔

↳ clcs444: i guess it’s a little odd, but it could just be a coincidence

ferrarieditss: hes gotta be with another driver?

↳ mv1bb: he was spotted with carlos and lando!

user9: living for the content 🤲😝

formula1page: missing our manz on summer break fr

cuntry69: is he there to see mother??? (y/n y/l/n)

↳ vroomies7: ur user is so slay

↳ cuntry69: ty babe

arthur_leclerc: don’t gamble too much

↳ charles_leclerc: 👍

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

twitter:

F1 Gossip Blog @gossipf1 • 2hr ago

Charles Leclerc Spotting!:

Charles was seen at dinner with none other than Y/n Y/l/n! Y/n is a country star, most know for her songs ‘Tennessee Orange’ , ‘I’m Not Pretty’ and ‘Can’t Break Up Now’.

Suspicions of them dating are flying around social media. You do have to admit, they would make a power couple. What do you think? Let us know.

↳ CL16 Talks @charlesle16 • 2hr ago

Bro, Y/n is genuinely one of the prettiest people I have ever seen! And her music? SO good!! Her and Cha would be sooo cute 🥹

↳ F1 Wag Page @f1wagspage • 2hr ago

New wag!!?? She’s so pretty, talented, and funny in her interviews. Can’t wait to see what happens!

↳ Y/n OG Fanpage @y/ny/l/nfp1 • 1hr ago

Mother is dating a race car driver….

↳ F1 Page @f1forever • 1hr ago

NO. A formula 1 driver, there’s a difference. F1 is better

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

liked by: charles_leclerc, danielricciardo, and 296,024 others

y/n.user: thank you so much for an amazing tour. and thank you for streaming my new album, i’m so lucky to be able to call you all my fans. i love you, see you in monaco 🫡❤️‍🔥

view comments…

f1updates: did she just casually say that she’s going to monaco- OMG

danielricciardo: loved the new album!🤠

↳ y/n.user: thank you so much, dan! 🤠

dr3edits: DANNY???!

f1wags: we ALL know

user6: she’s going to monaco?

↳ ln4edits: yesss. prolly for charles🫠

countrybabes7: i loved the album sm, you are it up (per usual)

char16: charles stays liking but won’t comment. like BRO, it’s fine, we know

y/nismyicon: queen of country is dating king of f1 fr

formulaa2: live laugh love y/n

lilymhe: pretty pretty girl in her pretty pretty dresses

↳ y/n.user: you > anyone else

↳ lilymhe: no you > anyone else

↳ carmenmmundt: stop flirting guys! your bfs are gonna see

↳ lilymhe: 😟o.m.g.

↳ y/n.user: omg carmen😳

↳ carmenmmundt: OMG

user1: LMAO CARMEN😭😭😭😭

f1editpage: carmen just confirming what we already know

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

your instagram story:

seen by: charles_leclerc, carmenmmundt, and 384,104 others

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

charles’ instagram story:

seen by: y/n.user, carlossainz55, and 813,914 others

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

liked by: charles_leclerc, francisca.cgomes, and 417,194 others

y/n.user: ferrari, baby

view comments…

charles_leclerc: you are a horrible driver, mon chéri

↳ y/n.user: hmph😒

f1wags: WOAH CONFIRMED SLAY

user3: too cuteeeeee

lailahasanovic: love u two together

↳ y/n.user: awe, laila💗 i love u and mick together

↳ mickschumacher: thanks 😁

formula1posts: favsss🤗

user9: charles and y/n look so good WTF?

francisca.cgomes: karting queen

↳ y/n.user: 😛😆

↳ charles_leclerc: she kept crashing into me

↳ pierregasly: francisca is the same way

↳ y/n.user: WOW guys

↳ francisca.cgomes: they are so rude

y/nfp16: the ferrariiii girl how did he let you drive that

↳ user5: he trusts her fr

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

your instagram story:

seen by: arthur_leclerc, charles_leclerc, and 398,104 others

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

liked by: y/n.user, lorenzotl, and 989,014 others

charles_leclerc: monaco boat rides with my family😘

view comments…

f1wags: “my family” and y/n is in there 🥹

↳ ferrariposts: the whole family prolly loves her

leclerc_pascale: ❤️❤️

*liked by creator*

user3: y/n with her guitar, too cuteeee

y/n.user: i love it here

↳ arthur_leclerc: move then

↳ charles_leclerc: we love you here

↳ lorenzotl: yes we do

↳ y/n.user: 🥹

formula1updates: this is freaking adorable

cs55fp: i’m more invested in y/n and charles relationship than my own tbh

user6: i need y/n ans daniel to meet cuz he’s our country boy

↳ danielricciardo: who says we haven’t met?

f1fp9: she’s so prettyyyy

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

your instagram story:

seen by: charles_leclerc, danielricciardo, and 401,813 others

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

(reposts, comments, and likes are appreciated!^-^)

#formula 1 #f1 #formula one #charles leclerc instagram au #charles leclerc smau #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc x y/n #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc fic #charles leclerc #cl16 one shot #cl16 x y/n #cl16 fluff #cl16 x you #f1 smau #smau #fluff

307 notes · View notes

bunnyluvs-blog · 1 year

Text

TXTs reaction to you pulling another members photocard

txt x reader fluff, silly short storys, slight angst in Taehyuns and suggestive in Huenings

Choi Soobin: He isnt one to get jealous really, well thats what he thought. Soobin was watching you open up your own Temptation Lullaby Version. Ripping the packaging open and flipping the first page when you both see the name Hueing Kai. Soobin wasnt upset per say, but he was just a little bit pouty because you didnt get his version. Going through the photobook and gushing over the solo poster you got, Soobin was breaking bad. Then you go to to see the photocard, and oh boy. You got the slightly older makane Taehyun. You turn to Soobin to show him the photocard before he gets up and puts on his shoes. "Soobin ? Where are you going love ?" you ask, your mind confused. "Target" he says sternly. "Why?" "Im getting you my version and my photocard" you couldnt help but giggle. He pouts, "Why are you laughing?" you calm down and pull him to you, kissing his cheek. "I dont need a photocard or a certain version, when i have the real one right here" He smiles, still with a small pouts and goes back onto the couch to cuddle you.

Choi Yeonjun: Opening up your Temptation Nightmare version you were so excited. You saw the photocards while looking online and dont tell your boyfriend, but you were dying for Soobins photocard. You look through the freebies, and you honestly really like the bookmark. 10/10 will use. After looking through the photobook and all of that, you get to the photocard. AND YOU GOT SOOBIN. You let out a little happy noise. You put him in a photocard sleeve and plop him on your desk. Later that night Yeonjun comes home, planting a kiss on your lips and telling you hes going to take a shower. He walks into yalls bedroom to head to the bathroom when he sees his blonde haired leader sitting on your desk. He grabs it and walks over to you. "What is this?" he asked not really looking for an answer. "Erm, a Soobin photocard?" you respond looking at him weirdly. "Erm" he mimics, "Why isnt it me" You hold back a giggle at his actions. "Well maybe if you guys put more then one photocard in each album i wouldve gotten you" You say and he glares. "Fair." He turns and goes to the restroom. You know he isn't actually mad but will act like it after his shower to get some cuddles.

Choi Beomgyu: He was so so so pouty. You pulled Huening Kai which did not make Beomgyu happy. You put the photocard in your holder on your purse, and Beomgyu goes off. "WHAT" you glace at him. Very confused. "Why is huening on your bag and not meeeee" He clings to you and pouts, looking at you with his puppy dog eyes. "Because i always put my newest photocard on my bag?" "Nooo you always put me on your bag" The last few albums you have gotten have been Txt albums, which lucky for Beomgyu, you've pulled him. But his luck has run out and the tall baby of his group is doing his iconic peace sign pose on your bag. You finally calm him down and you go to get ready for bed, little do you know. Beomgyu was putting in his photocard on your bag and taking Huening and putting him in your collection. Beomgyu didnt care about how you would yell at him about it in the morning, because at least he would 'be' with you through the day.

Kang Taehyun: He wasnt jealous at all. He knows how much you love him and no silly photo of one of his group mates was going to change that. Ok well maybe he was a little bit jealous over the fact of how much you were smiling when you pulled Taehyuns oldest member Yeonjun. It was a good picture of him no doubt about that. And the fact you were smiling so much about pulling him made he do a double take on who your bias was. It was him right? "Why are you so happy? Is Yeonjun your bias now?" He ask, not upset but with a light chuckle to maybe hide the fact he was hoping you would come cuddle him and smile at him 2x as bright. "Im ot5 !!" Owie, hearing he wasn't your bias made him a little bit sad. Your poor baby just wanted to be your favorite in everything. He knows it wasn't a big deal but why did it sting. You saw your boyfriends playful smile turning into a sad one just like that. "Butttttt if i had to pick it would be you, your so handsome and talented, your voice is good for so many things and I love how you use it when you sing." You say putting down the album and pulling Taehyun close to you snuggling into his chest. He wraps his arms around you and kisses your head. "I bet if he saw you he would think you're really cool too babe" You let out a giggle at his words before kissing Taehyuns lips softly and putting the goodies away.

Huening Kai: If any of the members were pouting before Huening throws it out of the park. He watched you open your album, showing off everything like you're in a YouTube unboxing video. Huening was all smiles until you got the the photocard. He was hoping that you got him, he honestly really liked how his photos came out. Everything was fun and games until Beomgyu showed up in your hand. "Ohh baby look I got gyu !!" You showed off the photocard not realizing that your boyfriend was pouting, like a little baby. Hybe was not on his nice side today for giving him the album with the wrong photocard. "Pfft you got gyu and not me!! Mine was better" you're boyfriend said trying to convince you to get another album to get his photocard. You smirked at him playfully "But I like gyuuies photocard, he looks good" "Yea well not as good as me !!" His pout only got worse as you teased him. And at the end of the day you would have to pay for it later but that wasn't on your mind now. "I should put him in a case front and center" you joked and Huening was hurt. "NOOOO HES GONNA REPLACE ME" he slightly yelled out, clinging onto you to hold you in place. You couldn't help but laugh. He was so cute when he was pouty. In the end you had to pinky promise him you weren't gonna swap the photocard and just put the new one with the rest. Which left you a happy boyfriend and a sore back the next day.

#x reader #txt x reader #txt fluff #txt fanfic #txt #tomorrow x together #soobin #yeonjun #beomgyu #txt taehyun #hueningkai

875 notes · View notes

chrollohearttags · 8 months

Note

cherry i’m not tryna increase ur workload but all the characters in the reverb universe so full of life 😭 idk i’d like to see like a small time stamp drabble series of a day in the life of them whether its ur ocs or the others KDKAKSK

bae omg not at all!!! 😭😭 I appreciate u sm. You know I love any excuse to write for those fools shkshs 🫶🏾 I REALLY love this idea too!

EJ: he starts his day depending on how his night before went! If he had a good session and turned in fairly early, then he’s up around 7AM. He showers, does his whole morning routine (shaving, doing his hair, the works. He’s in their for a hour). He’ll go for a run or workout..shower AGAIN. Then he gets breakfast (courtesy of his housekeeping or his sweetheart (y/n) and then he’s off to the studio. That’s around 12PM or so. He has his home ones but also one downtown so he’ll meet with people there. He tries to knock out at least a project a day. Whether that’s someone else’s works or his own music. He sometimes has meetings with AMG, appearances on shows, interviews, etc and gigs per his lovely manager. He’ll head out around 6 or 7, get back home and he’ll have dinner with (y/n). They’ll go out if it’s their date night or just stay in. Honestly, that’s the highlight of his day! Being cuddled and laid up with his girl.

Jean: Mr. Kirschtein loves his rest so he starts his day around 9PM. Mika is an early bird so she’s out of the house long before that. He gets his morning routine out of the way before heading into the office. Whilst he’s working on his new album, he’s taking sort of a backseat approach so he helps out with auditions, organizing album layouts, writing music and just overall mentoring new artists. He gets there around 10:30 or so and heads out around 3. It’s then that he heads to his home studio to practice with his band because they still have tour dates coming up. They go at it for a few hours, fine tuning their setlist for an upcoming show. He gets in an hour long workout (bc we all know he has to look his best on that stage while he’s up there being a s-l-u-t). He usually finishes up his day around 10 or 11 and then it’s time for bed.

Armin: well after he’s crawled out of the pile of women and liquor bottles from the night before, he does get down to business. He does a lot of producing, DJ’ing and club promoting so he gets the privilege of starting his day a lil later. He’ll head to one of the ritzy lounges downtown for brunch and often times with one of his pieces of arm candy by his side. While he’s enjoying mimosas and egg Benedict, his assistant is getting his schedule together. His interviews, his gigs for that evening and any other ventures. (not to mention canceling his fifty million dates he’s promised!) Armin is out at allll hours of the night so if he’s DJ’ing/promoting, he may arrive around 11PM and be there until 3 or 4 in the morning. Drinking and turning up the whole time.

(Y/N): My girl staaays booked and busy! Up around 6AM for a workout and morning routine. Comes back from the gym or in home one around 8AM to do her hair and makeup. Often times, her and Eren are meeting one another and they’ll have breakfast together before heading out. Sis does a lot of influencing (obv) work so she’ll film content for a few hours for TikTok and Insta. Reviews on clothes, makeup, hair, etc. depending on what was sent for the week. Mikasa will normally tell her what her gigs are for the week and helps her stay on schedule. Around 1 or 2PM, she’s meeting up with her girls for pole practice. They’ll usually do a live showing their routines and put together their sets for a show. If they have a concert they’re doing, they’ll get to the venue around 6 or 7 to run through their choreography and then once the concert is over, they head out for the night and sis goes right home to relax with a warm bath and her big teddy bear of a husband.

185 notes · View notes

monzabee · 1 year

Text

feather – pg10

masterlist

Summary: The one where Pierre is the one left mourning after your relationship ends.

Pairing: pierre gasly x ex!reader

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: cheating, past breakup, mentions of alcohol, sprinkle of angst

Author’s Note: hi, hey, hello!! this was a little passion project i worked on before i left for my trip. it’s my first time working on a song-fic format, so feedback is always appreciated!! i am currently obsessed with sabrina carpenter, and i love this song from the deluxe version of her album – for some reason i always thought of pierre when i listened to it, so i decided to put my feelings into a fic, and i hope you guys enjoy! good morning, noon or night wherever you are, xoxobee

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms.

(𝗂 𝗌𝗅𝖺𝗆 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝗈𝗈𝗋, 𝗂 𝗁𝗂𝗍 𝗂𝗀𝗇𝗈𝗋𝖾, 𝗂'𝗆 𝗌𝖺𝗒𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗇𝗈, 𝗇𝗈, 𝗇𝗈, 𝗇𝗈 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖾)

You are a believer of second chances, and Pierre is very much aware of this. And he tries, he really does, not to mess up the second chance you’ve given him. He makes an effort to show up on time, bring you flowers for no reason other than just to see the smile on your face, he even takes cooking classes to cook your favourite dish from childhood when you’re feeling homesick. He knows the nature of his work and his busy schedule is the reason why the two of you wanted to take a break the first time, so he is determined not the make the same mistakes. And he doesn’t, per se, you suppose. It’s one of those rare nights where you decide to stay home while Pierre goes out with his friends to a club. He tells you he’ll stay home with you when you tell him you don’t feel good, but you tell him to go without you and have some fun with his friends – his heart is full when he realises how much you trust him.

You try not to let it get to you when the time goes past when he tells you he’ll be home, or how he doesn’t answer his phone, or how you end up falling asleep on the couch waiting for him to come home. However, the sound of keys jiggling as the front door is being opened is enough to wake you from your light slumber. Even in your sleepy state, you can see the red marks forming on Pierre’s neck and on the skin of his chest left open from his messily buttoned up shirt. You’re at a loss at words, mouth hanged open as you’re staring at your lover in front of you. Pierre, using the small amount of common sense he has left, stands by the entrance of your shared apartment instead of coming up to you, tears in his eyes over the realization of what he has done.

“Why?” You manage to get out, a broken whisper leaving you as your eyes fill up with tears, but you are chanting “No, no, no, no”, inside of your head, “this isn’t real.”

“I– I don’t know, I’m sorry, I–” he takes a step forward to you, but the way you jump up from the couch and position yourself behind it has him stopping his movements altogether, “Y/N, please.”

“No, Pierre,” you shake your head, a broken sob ripping from the back of your throat. “We’re done, okay? We’re done.”

You ignore way he tries to explain himself, and anything he tries to make you stay as you move through your tears and pack an overnight bag to take with you. Trying not to meet his pleading eyes, you slip out of your his bedroom with Pierre hot on your heels. He calls your name one last time before you’re out the door, slamming it in his face as you leave the apartment. You press ignore every time he calls you on your way to your sister’s house without hesitating; spending the entire night, or rather what’s left of it, crying in your sister’s arms over your now ruined relationship.

(𝗂 𝗀𝗈𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖻𝗅𝗈𝖼𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌, 𝖺𝗇 𝖺𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗂 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝖼𝗎𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗈𝖿𝖿)

Your sister tells you your phone did not stop ringing the night before, again. You wouldn’t know this information yourself, since you handed your phone to her the minute you stepped into her house a couple nights ago, in hopes of not answering it if Pierre calls in the first place. She gave it to you before leaving for work for the day, saying that the amount of times she heard your ringtone has managed to give her a migraine. You contemplate calling Pierre back to hear him out, but you know if you do, you might not be strong to not to let him in for a third time. As if the phone can pick up on your inner conflict, it rings once more, but the name on it has you frowning as you pick it up with hesitant hands.

“Charles?” You ask when you answer the phone, hoping your voice comes off stronger than you’re feeling at the moment. “Is everything oka–”

“Y/N,” his voice cutting of your breath as your brain registers the situation, “please just let me explain. I–”

“No, Pierre.” You whisper, swallowing down an urge to scream at him through the phone. “I told you we were over.”

His voice is thick with tears as he begs, “I know, amour, but please just listen to me.”

“Stop calling me that,” you hiss, hands gripping your phone tighter, “just answer this one question, Pierre, did you or did you not sleep with someone other than me last night?”

“Y/N, please.” He pleads once more.

“We can’t keep going on like this, Pierre, I can’t continue this relationship knowing that I can never trust you again.” You take a deep breath, your free hand pinching the bridge of your nose as you announce, “I’m blocking you, and I’m blocking this number. Please don’t try contacting me again, I’ll come collect my stuff when you’re not home.”

You can hear a quiet sob he lets out, “I’m sorry, Y/N.”

“I know, but it doesn’t change the fact that you did this to us.”

(𝗂 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝗅 𝗌𝗈 𝗆𝗎𝖼𝗁 𝗅𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝖾𝗋, 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝖺 𝖿𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋, 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗈𝖿𝖿 𝗆𝗒 𝗆𝗂𝗇𝖽 𝖿𝗅𝗈𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝖾𝗆𝗈𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗌 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾, 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋, 𝗒𝗈𝗎'𝗋𝖾 𝖺 𝗐𝖺𝗌𝗍𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾)

After months and months of feeling sorry for yourself, you’re glad that you came out with your friends for your birthday. It was a long journey, getting over once what you considered to be the best relationship you’ve ever had. However, the weight of it lifting off your shoulders made you realise just how much you were trying to make it the relationship of your dreams. As you go through the memories, the good ones and the not-so-good ones, you realise where each of you went wrong. The conclusion you came to makes you realise that instead of wasting your time focusing on those memories, you can direct your energy towards moving on, which is what you decide on doing.

The first time Pierre sees you after your break up is a couple of months later at a restaurant the two of you used to frequent every time he was back in Milan. It’s your birthday, so that’s the reason why he decided to choose that particular restaurant in the first place, to reminisce. It’s almost the end of his meal when he hears your laughter, at first he thinks he’s imagining it; he’s had a whole bottle of wine all by himself, after all – but, alas, there you are sitting at a table with couple of your girlfriends, and smiling wider than he’s ever seen you smile. He can’t focus on the conversations happening around him, he completely ignores the waiter who asks him if he wants anything else for the evening, his eyes fixated on your every move. The way to talk to the girl sitting next to you; the way you talk, the way you keep smiling, the way your eyes fall to your phone sitting on the table next to your glass of wine, and we wonders: are you talking to someone? Do they treat you well? Are you happy? The questions in his mind overtake his entire ability to function for a moment and he’s aware he should probably take his eyes off of you not to appear like a freak, but he is unable to do so. Seeing you for the first time after months, happy and with your friends bring a warm feeling to his chest, even if he knows he was the source of your tears in the first place. But that is not the case in that moment, because with your hair pulled away from your face in a ponytail, lips painted a cherry red and your favourite dress on (he recognises it immediately after seeing the strap that keeps falling down, which should’ve been a reason for you to return it but you fell in love with it after seeing it in the store), you look more radiant than ever.

When your eyes meet for a second, he watches as your light disposition vanish and you’re quick to turn your head to break it off. He doesn’t waste any time paying for his meal and leaving the restaurant, and there is a heavy feeling on his chest as he realises that you’ve done your best to move on – and succeeded in doing so.

(𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗌𝗂𝗀𝗇𝖺𝗅𝗌 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗆𝗂𝗑𝖾𝖽, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝖼𝗍 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝖺 𝖻𝗂𝗍𝖼𝗁 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖿𝗂𝗍 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗋𝖾𝗈𝗍𝗒𝗉𝖾, 𝗌𝖾𝗇𝖽 𝖺 𝗉𝗂𝖼)

Alcohol and heartbreak don’t mix, and to be frank, Pierre learned this through the hard way countless of times. But it doesn’t change the fact that he finds his finger hovering over the messages section of your Instagram every times he ends up drinking a little too much than he should. True to your word, you blocked Pierre’s number after the last phone call the two of you shared – oh, and Pierre would know, since he called and messaged your number in denial many many times. After eventually giving up, Pierre decides to focus on rest of the season and the few races left on the calendar.

However the races don’t end on the track, they come with after parties on Sundays and copious amount of alcohol Pierre gladly indulges in. Though he is happy to indulge in alcohol and music for the night, he never goes back to his hotel room with a girl, never. The first time it almost happened, his mind suddenly cut to you looking at him with that broken look on your face and the disappointment in your voice, so, he quickly gave up on any and such endeavours. Instead, he likes to drink his weight in whatever alcohol the club offers, and makes Charles carry him back to wake up with a raging hangover the next morning. Sure, it is not the best solution, but it works for him. But one thing Pierre never does no matter what how drunk and out of his mind he is? Reach out to you over Instagram. He thinks that you’ve accidentally forgotten to unfollow or block him, which is a relief, because he feels like he has a way to reach you if he ever needs to. But because of his fear of losing you even further, Pierre never, under any circumstances, messages you on Instagram.

Another thing he indulges in? The F1 gossip accounts. One thing about Pierre, is that he lives for those accounts. The conspiracies and dramas they come up with have always been a source of entertainment for the French driver. Normally, he knows better than to believe what these accounts post. Most of the information are false or overexaggerated, anyways, but when a certain post catches his eyes just as he’s about to leave his hotel room for the night? The certain post entailing information about the guy you started seeing? His common sense flies through the window, and he decides to find comfort in what he knows. His stereotype as a ‘debauched bachelor’ used to bother him, especially after the two of you started dating. But now that that moment, he doesn’t seem to care what the media calls him. When he wakes up the next morning, with the worse headache known to mankind and minimal memories of what happened the night before, he has a feeling in his stomach which tells him that he fucked up big time. His theory is proven to be true when his best friend enters his room, unannounced, and has to kindly ask the girl, whose name Pierre can’t seem to remember, to leave.

In such an unlikely manner, Charles is seething as he grits, “Get in the fucking shower.” And Pierre does, because one; he smells like alcohol and sex, and two; he needs to sober out before the thumping in his brain somehow causes him permanent damage. Unfortunately for him, though, Charles is still angry when he gets out of the shower and meets him in the living room space of his hotel room. “Do you have any idea what you have done last night?”

“I think you know what I did last night, Charles.” His reply is emotionless as he digs into the breakfast Charles had probably ordered whilst he was in the shower.

His best friend pinches the bridge of his nose as he groans frustratedly, “No, I mean do you have any recollection of how much you’ve fucked up your non-existent relationship with your ex-girlfriend?”

“Y/N blocked me, Charles, what could I have done?” Pierre asks, raising one of his eyebrows. “Stop acting as if I did anything wrong! We broke up months ago, she moved on and so I thought it was time I did the same.”

“I never said anything about you moving on,” Charles points out, “but did you have to rub it in her face like that?”

There is a genuine look of confusion as Pierre asks, “What are you talking about?”

“You– you don’t?” Charles takes a sharp intake of breath, “You don’t remember sending her those things?”

“What things, Charles?” Pierre manages to get out.

“I’m talking about the voicemails where you begged her to take you back and promised to be a better man if she gets married to you.” Charles explains, an expectant look on his face as he looks at his best friend.

“Non,” Pierre breathes out in disbelief.

Charles takes another deep breath before he adds, “And… the pictures of the girl that was just with you. What was her name, Sierra?”

“I think her name was Belinda?”

“Her name was Abigail, you dick.” Charles scolds him, angrily getting up from his place on the couch. “You need to apologize, to both, preferably, and get your shit together, Pierre. You cannot go on living like this.”

“I think Y/N will be fine, Charles, with her new boyfriend.” Pierre bites out, leaning against the back of the couch. “And you don’t have to worry about me, I’m doing just fine.”

“Yeah? Whoring yourself out to half of the world’s female population? That’s how fine you’re doing?” Charles questions him, earning himself a glare from the Frenchman. “Do whatever you’d like, Pierre. But ask yourself whether this is the way you want Y/N to remember you.”

After Charles leaves, Pierre takes a moment to reflect over situation he managed to screw up. And he knows Charles is right, that he cannot live forever drinking himself to death and bringing back girls whenever he thinks you have someone new. So, he decides to do the mature thing and apologise to you by messaging you on Instagram. Until he realises all your messages and your profile have disappeared over night.

Well, too much for that.

(𝗂𝗍 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝗅𝗌 𝗌𝗈 𝗀𝗈𝗈𝖽 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝖼𝖺𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗈𝗇𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗂𝗍 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝗅𝗌 𝗌𝗈 𝗀𝗈𝗈𝖽 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗍𝖾𝗇𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗇𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗂 𝗀𝗈𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖻𝗅𝗈𝖼𝗄𝖾𝖽, 𝖾𝗑𝖼𝗂𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗇𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝖺𝗅𝗄, 𝗂'𝗆 𝗌𝗈 𝗌𝗈𝗋𝗋𝗒 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗅𝗈𝗌𝗌)

The music blaring through the club is deafening on your ears, but you find that you don’t really care that much, to be honest. It feels good to finally be out on the town, dancing and celebrating with your friends, and a couple of strangers, on the dance floor. There is a bit more alcohol in your system than you’re used to, sure, but that doesn’t mean that you can’t have fun for the night. It’s fun, losing yourself in the music and lights for the nights, surrounded by your sister and your friends, without any care in the world. You don’t feel anxious, or worried, on the contrary, you feel light as a feather as you have the time of your life.

Pierre watches from near the bar, a drink in his hand and his eyes fixated on you. He knows he should give up at some point, move on like you have. It’s not like he planned to run into you in one of the busiest clubs of the city (he totally did), it was just a freak incident that he happened to be there the same night you went out for your sister’s bachelorette party. His eyes fall over the maid of honour sash draped over your dress, matching the one your sister has on, bride.

“So, which one is your girl?” He hears a voice chiming in from next to him, which causes him to turn towards the source, the bartender shrugs her shoulders innocently. “You’ve been watching that group the entire time you’ve been here, it’s weird if you’re not dating one of them. So tell me who it is; is it the blonde? Is it the one with the pantsuit?” She gasps, “Is it the bride?”

Pierre can’t help the laughter he gets out, “It’s the maid of honour,” he answers, “we used to date.”

“Oh, oh,” she lets out an appreciative hum, “I’m sorry for your loss, buddy. So how’d you manage to fuck that up? She seems like a sweet girl.”

“She is, I– I did fuck it up, big time.” Pierre confesses, out loud, for the first time in months. “I cheated on her; I shouldn’t have but it happened.”

“Wow, you just lost some serious brownie points.” The bartender shakes her head, but her voice is light as she jokes, “Just so you know, I’m spitting into the next drink you order.”

He returns his gaze back to you when he hears the booing from the group when they realise they are out of champagne, and the corner of his lip rises in the smallest smile as he watches you calm them down. You must’ve offered to get more, because he watches as you make your way towards the bar. His eyes fall on the skirt of your dress, and he focuses a little too intently on the way it swishes around your hips and upper thighs. He quickly turns back when he realises that you are coming next to him, and he is going to be closer to you than he has in almost eight months.

He watches you from the corner of his eye as you lean your forearms onto the bar as you smile sweetly as you order. “Can I get another bottle of champagne? It doesn’t matter which one, they are too drunk to realise it anyway.”

“Sure thing, do you want me to pop it for you?” He hears the bartender ask.

“No, no it’s fine, I can do it myself.”

Your reply brings a smile on his face as he recalls how he was the one to teach you how to do it, claiming that you were too old to be afraid of popping open a bottle of champagne. He’s lost in his thoughts as you but the bottle under your tab and leave the bar to rejoin the group; he doesn’t even entertain the idea of talking to you.

“You didn’t talk to her, like, at all.” The bartender recalls clearly confused.

“No, I didn’t,” Pierre replies as he exhales deeply and downs his drink in one go. “How much for my tab and theirs?”

The bartender raises an eyebrow, “You do realise they are a group of women, celebrating one of them getting married, drunk out of their asses, right?”

“Yeah, yeah, just cover it from my card.” He shrugs her off as he hands her his card.

“You’re really not going to try to win her over?” She asks as she takes payment for the tabs.

“No, she’s finally moved on,” his reply is soft, and it brings a smile to his face as he watches you shake the bottle and pop the cork off, spraying the others with champagne as you laugh loudly, “it’s time I move on, too.”

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