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beomcoups · 1 month

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Caller #17

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: basketball player!Soonyoung x college dj reader

𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: fluff, angst, 90s au

𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: PG-13

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: cursing, talks of tough family dynamics, bit of heavy angst, kissing

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 8.8k

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: You could easily name 10 things that you hate about him. But when you bond over music and families, you realize there's more to him than meets the surface.

𝐀𝐍: This was not an easy fic. It took me way longer than I planned to write, and the story I had mapped out went in a different direction. I still feel proud of this one, my longest fic yet, and I hope that you will enjoy it too 🥹 This is a part of my very own Now That's 90's collab hosted by me and @mingsolo. Thank you to @wooahaeproductions for reading this over and @hobeemin for making a banner for me at the last minute 💙

“Thank you for calling into C.A.R.A.T radio! What’s your song of the week?” “Bittersweet Symphony by The Verve!” “You got it! Thanks for calling into C.A.R.A.T radio at 526 AM.” Hitting play on the record, the orchestra's melody hits your ears, sending you into an out-of-body experience, your soul floating to cloud nine. The hairs on the back of your neck stand every time the song is played, and you imagine yourself playing the violin, getting lost in the beautiful and complicated sinfonia. Working at the college radio station was your life. It’s the only place to lose yourself to TLC, Nirvana, and Weezer for hours without judgment. You are in your 3rd year of college, getting your bachelor’s in music theory so you can be one of the most prominent songwriters in the world. While everyone in high school didn’t know what they would be doing with their life, you always imagined yourself getting a Grammy for Song of the Year on stage. That is your real passion: creating musical poetry for the masses.

You slowly take the headphones off and set them down, looking at the big clock plastered on the wall. You let out a heavy sigh, sad that your time at the station is ending. You are allotted two hours a day on Saturday as a part of credit for your program. If you had it your way, you would be here daily, listening to your favorite records and writing songs between commercial breaks.

“Hey,” your professor Kim calls out from her office. “Come in here before you leave.”

You gather your things to leave, looking at the station one last time before entering the smaller space. This isn’t her regular office, but it has everything you think you would need: a desk, a comfortable chair, and bookshelves full of books and ornaments for decoration. You have spent a lot of time in here, pitching new ideas for the station and getting turned down every single time.

“What's up?” You sit in the chair opposite of her.

“So we will be introducing a new segment to the radio where callers can call in and ask for advice about anything, and then you can recommend a song based on what they are calling in about.:” She pauses to take a sip of water. “I want you to be a part of it.”

You don’t answer right away. You are peeved that Professor Kim wants you to head any segment. You have never shown any initiative to want to talk to anyone who calls in besides listening to music. It’s just not your thing. You are a loner at heart, and that’s how you plan to stay.

“Why me?” You finally speak up. “There are other people who are better at this than I am. Hell, ask Emily. She has been foaming at the mouth to talk about anything other than music.”

“Because you are who I want,” she shrugs. “I see how you look when you talk about your favorite releases. You go deep with the lyrics and how you can relate that to any part of your life. You are more than the person behind the voice, and it’s time other people see that.” “Well, I am not trying to be the next Oprah or Ricki Lake,” you scoff. I just want to play music, write my songs, and do whatever I need to do for the class.”

“No one said you would be the next talk show anything,” Professor Kim retorted. “This will be considered a project, and it’s worth 20% of your grade. Plus, when you are in the industry and have sessions with the artists about the song's lyrics, don’t you need to talk to them about their life and what they need? Think about that.” You nod, feeling defeated because you know you can’t talk your way out of this. You know she is right, but you will never admit it. “Plus, it’ll be a good idea to get out of your shell and work on those social skills,” she says. “We will start in a couple of weeks, so get your mind ready because before you know it, you will be there.” You nod and leave the office, your stomach grumbling loudly as you put your headphones on and listen to the latest Backstreet Boys release. It’s a quarter past seven, and dusk officially sets in the sky as you walk across campus. Working at the radio station is the highlight of your week, as you can’t play music loud at your dorm without others complaining. Fortunately, your dorm is set where you have your own space, but the walls are thin, and you can hear everything. You considered buying noise-canceling foam to cover your door but were told it was “against” the rules. Whatever. Your stomach rumbles again, and you are determined to get a burger and fries in your stomach and drink an Oreo milkshake. You cross the street, open your bag, and grab your wallet before being met with a screeching halt from a car in front of you, its headlights blaring in your eyes. “What the fuck?” You mouth at the driver. The driver pokes his head out the window, and you instantly recognize him as Soonyoung, the star point guard of the basketball team. His black Jeep is crowded, full of guys and girls, with Usher blasting through the speakers. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t paying attention,” he waves. “Yeah, no shit,” you retort, walking to the end before the car pulls off. Jeers and boos could be heard, but you could care less. People like that always get in your way no matter what. You avoid people like that as much as people, as you don’t want to be mixed in with that crowd. Soonyoung will eventually go pro and live the NBA life, whereas you will be on the stage accepting awards, with millions of people cheering your name.

The segment started as planned, and you sat and listened to every caller asking for advice. Most of them wanted advice on how to ask someone out for a date, makeup, and things you didn’t care about. The only thing that made it worth it was you got to pick the music to go with the advice, which allowed you to show off your taste in music, from Britney Spears to Mandy Moore, Usher, Sugar Ray, etc. It made the time go by faster as well. You look through the glass, and Professor Kim gives you a thumbs up to take the last call. Letting out a sigh of relief, you let the call ring a few times before you answer. “Welcome to C.A.R.A.T radio. You are lucky caller number 17. What’s on your mind?” “H-hello?” a tenured male voice booms through the speakers. You groan, fighting the urge to roll your eyes. “You’ve reached C.A.R.A.T radio! What’s on your mind?”

“Hey. You can use this line to ask for advice, right?”

“Yep,” you say, a bit annoyed. “Whatcha got?”

There is a lengthy pause, your fingers tapping dramatically on the soundboard. You raise an eyebrow at the professor, who shrugs and walks out of your view. You hear shuffling in the background, followed by what sounds like something being sipped from a cup.

“S-sorry, I am a bit nervous,” he apologizes. “It’s my first time calling in.”

“It’s alright,” you reassure him. “I know how it is. How can I help?”

“So I already have this path carved out for me by my family and everyone who cares about me. Sports is all I have known all my life, and I have worked very hard to get here.” He stops for a brief second. “Everyone expects me to act like this all-star college boy, and no one ever talks to me about anything else than sports, and I am starting to hate it.”

“Do you mind telling me what kind of sports you’re in?”

“I play ball.”

“Okay, that's good. Well, what is it that you want?”

“I’m tired of being what everyone wants me to be: this golden retriever everyone loves. I just want to be me.” You understood how he felt. Maybe not in sports, but people pushing you to be something you’re not. You come from a family of doctors and lawyers who expected you to be the same. “Get good grades so you can get into an Ivy League school” is all you heard growing up. When you were seven, you expressed interest in music, sitting in front of the family piano on Christmas and playing Jingle Bells, which you learned on your own. Your parents cared for a while, putting you in piano lessons and taking you all over the state for recitals. They figured if you kept this up until high school, it would look good on college applications, but nothing that they took you seriously for. It wasn’t until you learned how to play the guitar in secret that you fell in love with how the strings strummed against your fingers that you realized that your passion is music. Thanks to your choir teacher, you had a good voice and kept it in tune while practicing writing music. You soon sang in front of the school, getting high praise from people all over for your voice and how you would “make it big one day.” Your parents insisted that it was just a phase and that eventually you would become a doctor and make a “real” living. You were determined to prove them wrong by applying to one of the best music schools and getting in on a full ride. You did that, but it came with a cost: being cut off by everyone in your family but your grandparents. They believed in you from the beginning and made sure you were okay. You will pay them back in tenfold one day. “Hello?” the deep voice cut through your thoughts. “Y-yeah, sorry,” you snap back into focus. “Do you want my advice?” “Yeah, I do,” you hear him clear your throat. ‘I think you should be who you want to be. It may feel a little different at first, but eventually, you will be happier being yourself.” “I mean…” he pauses for another second. “How do I go about that? How do I show people the real me?” “Hmm,” you think out loud. “Why don’t you try easing into it? Start a random conversation about something you are interested in that no one knows about. Gauge their reactions, and if they treat you weirdly, then start making new friends. It might be a little harder with your family, but they will come around. But either way, it’s exhausting having to hide yourself at the time. It’s the 90s and a new era!” “Yeah,” he says slowly. I’ll try that.Thanks.” “No problem!” You say. “Check out this song that’ll hopefully speak to your heart. This is me signing off on CARAT Radio, 800am.” You played “You Gotta Be” by Des’ree, a personal favorite, closing out the end of your segment. Admittedly, it wasn't as bad as you thought it would be. Sure, some questions were annoying, but it allowed you to pass on music to people and help them get over whatever. You can’t call that a total loss. You push the mic to the side and leave the room, checking in with your professor before leaving. “Great job,” she leaned back into her seat. “You were well-spoken and composed, and the music selections were excellent. Have you thought about being a radio DJ?” “NO,” you snort. “I want to be more behind the scenes, writing songs and getting Grammys.” “Okay, okay,” Professor Kim chuckles. “But don’t rule it out. You are a natural at it.” You nod and head out the door with a small smile. Getting complimented about your work feels good, but you rule out being a radio DJ. You deal with people if you have to, but you prefer to have time for yourself a lot of times. You’re just introverted like that. However, that last call was in the back of your mind. You just want to live and succeed at your dream job. It was nice knowing someone out there felt the same way you did.

Before you knew it, a few weeks had passed, and you had secretly liked doing the segment every Saturday, talking to people from different backgrounds and listening to their troubles. You had a song for every call, and you bragged to your professor at the end of your shift that you had impeccable taste. The analytics showed that more people were tuning in during your segment than at any other time on the radio. Not gonna lie; it stroked your ego quite a bit.

The mystery guy called in on Saturdays, ironically being caller #17 every time. He would call and ask for advice about getting his grades up, coming out of his comfort zone, trying new things, etc. You got to know him a little, see how he solves problems, and see his sense of humor. You have no idea what he looked like, but you imagined he was just your type, like a Keanu Reeves, Theo Mizuhara, or Merlin Santana. Is it crazy that you sometimes daydream about a man you never met?

Today was the last day of the advice segment, and everyone called in with their usual advice and well wishes. Like clockwork, the mystery guy was caller #17. His breathing was labored when you answered, followed by a clunk of metal hitting the floor. “Welcome to C.A.R.A.T radio. You are lucky caller number 17. What’s your damage?”

“H-hey.” You know it was him; the sound of his voice was familiar to you. You shift in your seat, sitting straight and placing your elbows on the desk. You try to keep a poker face, your professor watching you with curious eyes. “Hey there,” you clear your throat. “How can I help?” “I heard today is the last day to ask for advice,” he says. “I can’t say I won’t miss calling and hearing your voice every Saturday.” “Oh yeah?” you chuckle. “ That’s good to know. Well, what is the last piece of advice that I can give you?” “So, there is this girl,” he starts. “I really like her. She’s cute, a bit of a hard ass, and I really like her mind. She’s not like anyone that I’ve met. How do I ask her out?” “Does she know you exist?” “Yeah. I almost ran into her once, but we talked a lot.” “Ah. Do you think she might like you?” “I-I’m not sure,” he stutters. “We get along and everything and we have some things in common. I just don’t know if she would be into me.” “Okay, well, it wouldn’t hurt to ask her out? The worst that can happen is that she says no; at least you’d know.” “Yeah,” he sighs. “I’m nervous as hell, that’s all. Have you dated anyone before?” You are taken aback, your professor raising her eyebrows through the glass. You nod, licking your lips before responding. “I’ve dated here and there,” you say slyly. “It wasn't anything serious. What about you?” ‘Um, yeah, I have,” he snorts.

“Well, there you go then, tiger.” You’re clearly entertained by this conversation. “Remember how you felt when you asked the other girls out, and apply that same confidence to this girl. You never know. She might say yes.” “Okay, I will take your word for it. Thank you.” “Not a problem!” You beam. “Here is the last song I leave you with: ’ 4-page letter’ by Aaliyah. Have a good night, ya’ll.”

You play the final track of the night, setting down the headphones while Professor Kim claps her hands in applause. You roll your eyes playfully, pushing your chair onto the desk and exiting the booth. You feel light as a feather, dopamine taking over your body as you meet your professor in her office. “Great job,” she smiles. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?” “Maybe,” you plop down on a chair. “It was fun giving out music suggestions.” “Mhmm,” she nods. “Well, get out there and enjoy your Saturday. I will see you in class on Friday.” You grab your things and leave the station, your stomach rumbling and your mouth parched. It’s after 8, and the nearest thing open is the local pizza joint with the best pepperoni pizza with the cheesiest cheese you’ve ever had. You go there often, and the owners, Dante and Gabriella, get your order ready before you sit down. “The usual?” they always ask, knowing that you are a creature of habit. Aside from your grandparents, they were the closest thing to family to you, always making sure your pizza was hot and crispy with a tall cup of Coke to go with it. They asked about your studies, and Gabriella always asked when you’d get a boyfriend.

“Ah, stop it, amore mio,” Dante jokingly shushes her. “She has all her life to find the love of her life.”

More people started coming in, and they left you to your food and your walkman. You gleefully put Parmesan cheese over your pizza, taking the first bite and feeling instant gratification. A slice of heaven, literally. You take your headphones on, listening to Kurt Cobain croon on Nirvana’s Something In The Way. The “Nevermind” album got you through some tough times, especially when your family cut off communication with you. It hurt you and made you feel isolated and misunderstood. On the outside, your mom and dad put on this persona of being open-minded and willing to do anything for the family. Why were you the exception? You feel the tears well up, and you get yourself together before people start to notice, eating the rest of your pizza before you call it a night. You look around, seeing people on dates or hanging out with their friends, and you miss that. You had friends back home, but you all split up before you went to college. Who knows what their lives are like now. It’s not like you are visiting home anyway. You clean up your mess and walk into the bathroom, relieving yourself and washing your hands before returning to your dorm. You looked at yourself in the mirror: your jean jacket covered your black button-up shirt, shorts, and stockings underneath. Your eyes were slightly red, a contrast from your fresh face. Stifling a yawn, you leave and wave goodbye to Dante, opening the side door and bumping into someone in the process. You look up, facing Soonyoung, his cheerful eyes meeting yours. “We gotta stop meeting like this,” you mutter, backing up and adjusting your jacket. “Yeah, we shouldn’t,” he responds, opening the door to let you out. Your head snaps up, half expecting him to not hear you. You rake your fingers through your hair, walking out of the restaurant. He’s a handsome guy, you can admit that, with his fresh, faded haircut and trendy clothes. You get why he is popular with everyone. “I’m sorry for almost hitting you with my car the other day,” he calls out. “It’s alright,” you turn around. “Just don’t make it a habit.” “Alright.” He chuckles and goes inside, and you speed walk to your dorm. Did I just flirt with him? You think to yourself. What the fuck was that? You aren’t even interested in Soonyoung in that way. You two are the two opposites of each other. You’re clearly losing your mind.

The cool air calms you down, and the slight breeze underneath the moonlight keeps you at bay until you get to your building. It’s Saturday night, and everyone’s out; the only sound being heard is your boots hitting the tiled floor as you walk down the hallway to your dorm. Unlocking your door, you notice an envelope tucked underneath it. You sit on the bed, open it, and pull out a letter. I know this isn't a four-page letter, but I like you. You’re funny, have good jams, and are down to earth. Did I say that you’re cute? I like talking to you every Saturday and don’t want it to stop.

I want to take you out to a concert on Friday. I’ll pick you up at 4 at your dorm. I know you've said yes if you’re there when I arrive. —Caller #17

“What do you think of this?” Your former roommate and good friend, Nikki Prince, holds up a black leather jacket in your size. You asked her to go shopping with you for an outfit for tomorrow's impending date, and you needed another set of eyes. She majors in architecture and design but models on the side thanks to her striking looks. A tall, tanned skin and green-eyed beauty, she now lives with her much older chef boyfriend, Caelan, but whenever you need her, she’s always there. She’s French, stylish, and brutally honest. You loved that about her. “I dig that,” you take it from her and try it on. It fits you just right. It would be chilly, so you bought new boots, a white shirt, and black jean shorts to wear with black stockings underneath. You wanted to be comfortable as you would be on your feet all night.

“Are you sure about this date?” Nikki’s foreign accent comes through. “How do you know this guy isn’t some serial killer? We’ve all seen Scream.” “Gee, thanks, mom,” you roll your eyes. “If he tries anything with me, I’ll just show him the moves I learned from the YMCA.”

“I’m serious. This is risque for you, no?” You shrug, slowly taking off the jacket and heading to the cashier. “I get your point, and if anything happens, I can defend myself. But I have a feeling that it won’t happen.” You greet the cashier and pay for the jacket. “I’ll call you before I leave and tell you about it the next day. Deal?” Nikki nods, and you both walk out of the store, satisfied with what you bought. The mall is busy for a Thursday night, with young adults frolicking at stores like Rave and Wet Seal, looking for the latest fashion trends. The mall isn’t really your scene, as you prefer to thrift shop for your clothes. You have been lucky to find some hidden gems there, especially since you are on a limited budget. Nikki, however, said it was a special occasion, and you quote, “You are not going on a date in someone else’s vêtements.”

You stop at Auntie Anne’s, buying a massive pretzel with cheese on the side, while Nikki opts for a small lemonade. You offer her a piece, which she declines, saying her boyfriend, Caelan, will make her dinner later. “How is that going, by the way?” You sit down at a table. “It’s going good,” she enthuses, raking her fingers through her long black tresses. “He’s so mature and sophisticated. Imagine not having to cook and clean after a man and have good sex.” “Well, yeah, he’s about six years older,” you remark. He better know a thing or two if he wants to keep his model.” Nikki gloats as you finish your pretzel, talking about the elaborate French dishes her boyfriend makes for her and how he worships the ground she walks on. Since you’ve known her, she has always been opinionated and refused to associate with people within your age group. Whenever you see her in the hallways, she always talks with teachers or ignores the lustful looks of college boys. You two got on well because you were roommates, and both were Scorpio risings. You understood each other. “Oh shoot, I better head back to the flat,” Nikki says, looking at her watch. Caelan is going to be home soon, and he is making steak frites tonight.”

“Yeah, I gotta head to the dorm anyway. Early class tomorrow.”

You walk out of the mall into the chilly night air. She offers you a ride home, and you decline at first, saying that you will walk as it's pretty close. But a slight wind blows, bringing chills down your spine.

“Wait,” you shout after her. “I’ll take that ride.”

The ride was short and quiet, your mind occupied with your date with this mystery stranger. Nikki was right, you don’t know him, and he could be this crazy guy. But you’re also excited; the butterflies haven’t left your stomach since Saturday. You feel like you know him, and you don’t even know his name. He is just caller #17.

She pulls up to your building, and you hug her, preparing to run inside and shower. You know Nikki is still worried and means well, even if she sometimes acts like an overbearing old sister.

“Come over tomorrow at two if you can,” you announce. “You can help me get ready and meet my date in case anything goes crazy.”

“Alright,” Nikki seems relieved. “I’ll be there.”

You shut the door and shout your goodbyes before sprinting inside.

“Love you!”

“Yeah, yeah!”

The next day went fast, like a blur. You slept past your alarm and woke up after twelve, making you two hours late.

“Fuck, fuck, FUCK,” you shout as you scrambled out of bed and tripped over a blanket. You throw on a pair of jeans and an oversized sweater from the University, your hair in a wild ponytail as you brush your teeth and high-tailed it out the door. You ran to class, forming an apology along the way, your heart beating out of your chest. You are met, however, with a closed door and a white paper plastered on the door:

NO CLASS TODAY. ENJOY YOUR WEEKEND.

“Really?” You huffed, leaning against the wall. It’s not like you are late for class; your alarm was

set despite you being up late last night. But whatever, fuck it. You aren’t about to let this ruin your day.

The leaves flow softly with the wind as you walk back to your dorm, the sun playing hide and seek in the clouds. All you can think about is tonight and what concert you are going to. Maybe it’s a huge concert, and that’s why he is picking you up early… or perhaps it’s a local indie band at a bar. Your mind runs with endless possibilities, excitement pumping through your veins. You aren’t a hopeless romantic or a love-at-first-sight kind of person, but something about this person makes you feel good… like you finally have someone who can relate to you on some level. Granted, you have only talked with him on the phone, but you have a gut feeling and are rarely wrong about these things. You finally return to your dorm and take a well-needed shower, washing and detangling your hair with much-needed privacy. Your dorm has shared showers; you usually take them when everyone is asleep at night. Fortunately, there were only a few people, allowing you to have time for yourself. You allow yourself to think of the water running down your body as him, his hands caressing your body, his lips maybe touching yours— “Is anyone in here?” You snap out of your daydream quickly, and the water turns cold right on queue. “Y-yeah?” “I am here to clean the showers,” a woman’s voice calls from the door. “O-okay, give me a second.” Cursing silently, you quickly step out and dry yourself, throwing on your robe and grabbing your shower caddy before exiting the bathroom. You are met by an older woman wearing a shirt representing your college and sweats, with cleaning supplies in tow. “You were in there for a while,” she remarks as she sets out the wet floor sign. Do you have a hot date tonight?” “Something like that,” you shrug. You walk back to your room, and to your surprise, Nikki is outside your door. “You’re early,” you remark, unlocking the door. “Yes, I know,” she said. “But we will need more than two hours to get yourself right.” “You act like I can’t dress myself,” you scoff. “I just wanted your company, that’s all.”

“Oh yeah? Mon ami, when was the last time you changed your makeup?” You open your mouth to rebuttal but close it immediately. You hate to say it, but Nikki’s right. It’s not like you are going anywhere besides school, the music store, and the pizzeria. “Exactly,” Nikki says, setting her stuff down on her bed. “I went and got you makeup close to your teint, just in case.” She pulls out brand-new makeup from Revlon from mascaras, concealers, powders, and assortments of lipsticks of my choosing. She also bought nail polishes, saying it was time to add some color to your life. As much as you want to roll your eyes at her, she is right. As harsh as Nikki seems sometimes, she has a big heart and always looks out for you when you least expect it. You know a thing or two about style, but she takes it to a whole different level and isn’t shy about giving advice on it. You appreciate her so much. Being honest with yourself, you are nervous as hell. You have had crushes before, but you have never been pursued like this, where someone likes you enough to ask you out formerly, even if it was via a note. This person cares about your mind or seems to. You aren’t sure how to feel; you want to be excited and have a good time, but you have a wall up for a reason. You don’t want to be disappointed again like your family has. You figured if the people you love the most can abandon you like that, there is no hope for you out there. You lived with that hard truth for a long time, and you were content with that. But god, this guy has you curious. “What’s on your mind?” Nikki finishes with your makeup and hair, gazing at you through the mirror. “Butterflies in my stomach are killing me,” you grimace. “I can’t believe I am even doing this.” “Oh, relax,” she blows a raspberry. “You always do this thing where you talk yourself out of things you deserve. Stop that. D'accord? “Yes, mother,” you tease. She sucks her teeth, and you get dressed, putting on the new clothes you bought and your black leather boots. Checking out your appearance, you are satisfied with your look, and Nikki gives you a thumbs up while she cleans up. Knock, Knock! You look at the door, the butterflies fluttering deeper in your stomach. You look in the mirror one last time as Nikki opens the door, a brief silence followed by a heart chuckle. “Mon ami, your date is here.”

You see him, and you're stunned. It dawns on you why he’s here, and you feel your heart drop all the way to your ass. This has to be some kind of joke. “Soonyoung? What are you doing here?” He walks more into your view, wearing a grey jean jacket with matching pants. His right hand is in his pocket, and he has a small bouquet of irises in his other hand. “I’m here to take you to the concert?” Nikki is behind him, trying to keep her composure and mask her giggles. Of all the people you thought would show up, Soonyoung was the LAST person on your mind. This is the person who was calling in every Friday and wanting to talk to you? Yeah fucking right. “What happened?” you accost him. “Did you lose some bet, and you had to ask me out? Or do you feel bad for almost hitting me with your car?” “No?!” he scoffs, clearly offended. “I mean, yes, I feel bad about almost hitting, but no one dared me to do anything. Do you think I am that kind of person?” “Well, yes.” You wish you could take back what you said, but it was too late. You knew you hurt his feelings, the crestfallen look on his face saying it all. “This was a mistake,” he sighs dejectedly. “Sorry, I wasted your time.” He handed Nikki the flowers and walked away, the air feeling thick and awkward. You couldn’t even look at her in the eyes. You knew you fucked up. “Well, that was awkward,” you huff. “And shitty.” You raise an eyebrow at her, and she stares you down. You don’t want to feel worse than you already do, and Nikki isn’t helping. “Honestly, I think the guy was telling the truth,” Nikki surmises. “He looked like a sad puppy.” You think about this caller #17 guy who would call in every week and share his thoughts with you about everything, with you having to do very little. You think about how scared he felt about being his true, authentic self and how much courage it probably took to ask you out. You know you are a tough cookie to crack and understand better than anyone how it feels to go against the grain and be who you are. “I fucked up Nik,” you slump on your bed. “Yeah, you did.” God, you hate her bluntness sometimes, but she’s right. You need to go find him and make this right. “Do you think he’s still here?” you ask, sitting up and grabbing your purse. “He couldn’t have left that fast.” “Only way to find out is to get off your ass and find him,” she says, pulling your arm. “Go find your guy.” You both rush out of your dorm, jogging down the hallway and out of the building, looking for a silhouette of him. You were scared you missed him and felt defeated, not seeing any sight of him anywhere. Surveying the area one last time, you noticed a black Jeep peeling out of the parking lot. It stops at the stop sign, the second to last car to go. This is your only chance. “WAIT!”

You sprint towards the car, barely meeting him as he is about to turn.

“STOP,” you exhale, relieved that you caught him. “Don’t go.” Soonyoung steps out as you rest your hands on the hood of his car, trying to catch your breath. He touches your arm, his hands soft as silk, sending shocks throughout your body.

“Are you okay?” He asks, taking a good look at you.

“Aside from me about to pass out, I’m good.” You take a deep breath. “Listen. I’m sorry. I was a jerk and an asshole and—”

“MOVING YOUR FUCKING CAR!”

A middle-aged woman leans out of the window and gives you the bird, followed by a slew of car horns beeping in annoyance behind you and Soonyoung.

“Fuck,” Soonyoung curses, realizing the amount of cars behind him. “Get in the car.”

You both get in the car and drive off from the angry drivers, pulling into the nearest gas station. You sit with your hands in your lap, this weight of regret sitting on your chest and guilt eating you from the inside. You look at him, and he seems surprisingly relaxed as if you didn’t reject him

not even thirty minutes ago.

“I’m going to get some gas,” he announces. “Wait here.”

You watch him walk inside to pay and let out the deepest, most agonizing sigh. He should be calling you every name in the book, and rightfully so, as you insulted him. Why is he being so nice? Does he really like you that much?

He returns a few minutes later, shoving his pockets with change left over, and you both lock eyes with each other. In another situation, you would’ve been able to appreciate his good looks, trendy clothes, and tiger-like appearance. But instead, you feel sick to your stomach, disappointed in how you acted. You look down, twiddling your thumbs until he finishes pumping his gas and returning to the car. This is not like you at all. “Hey,” he says. “Hi,” you stammer. “I’m sorry again. I feel like a terrible person, and I shouldn’t have bit your head off like that.” “I know you were intense, but Jesus Christ,” he exhaled. “Why do you think I wouldn’t be interested in you? You made it seem like I lost a bet to ask you out. You made me feel like crap.” Every word felt like a punch in the gut, and you deserved it. Despite your parents' many flaws, they always taught you not to judge a book by its cover, and that’s precisely what you did. You were pretentious and stuck up about him. In some ways, you aren’t any different from them. “I guess…” your voice trails off. “I just saw you as the athlete that everyone is in love with. Your friends, I know the type, and we’ve never really crossed paths with each other unless I was bumping into you or almost getting hit by your car.” “So… you saw me as the very thing I told you I didn’t want to be seen as.” You didn’t have to answer back. You both knew the answer, and it was eating you up inside. “I’m sorry, I am just gonna go.” Before he could stop you, you exited the Jeep and started walking back toward your dorm. You are embarrassed and can never face him again. This is why you don’t don’t talk to anyone. This is awkward; it feels weird. You lose yourself in your thoughts until you reach the street light, waiting for your turn to go. The air is slightly chilly than usual, the smell of the ocean taking over your senses that you would enjoy any other time. Yeah, a walk to the beach sounds nice, you say to yourself just as the street signal turns green. You feel someone’s hand pulling you away, and you twirl around, facing Soonyoung’s back as he takes you back to his car.

“You’re dramatic as hell, you know that, right?” He shouts over his shoulder. “You didn’t even let me respond; you just hopped out like you were on the run.”

You stayed silent. What more could you say? He was right. He opens the passenger side, letting you slide in and shutting the door behind you. A few seconds later, he is on your other side, turning on the ignition.

“You not a terrible person,” he breathes. “A terrible person wouldn’t come sprinting out of their doom in boots and a nice outfit trying to apologize. You said you’re sorry, and it’s fine.” “Is it?”

“I mean, I’ll get over it,” he shrugs. “I wouldn’t have pulled you back here if I didn’t want to be around you. Now, do you still want to go back and forth about this, or do you want to make it up to me by going to this concert?” It’s a brief moment of silence as you seriously consider your options. You can tell Soonyoung is still bothered by what you did, but his small smile clarifies your decision. “Lead the way, tiger.”

He chuckles as he pulls out of the lot, pulling into a line of cars headed in the same direction. The sun starts to set, the golden hour hitting the horizon at the sea. You fold your arms, confused as to why he is being so nice to you, despite you being a bitch to him earlier. You haven’t felt forgiveness in a long time, which feels foreign. Uncomfortable. You hope this feeling will go away as the night goes on.

You mainly rode in silence aside from the music on the radio, and the hour trip to the venue seemed to be double that. You pull up to Bayfront Amphitheater, packed to the brim with people screaming their hearts out to the band onstage. Your heart skips in excitement, realizing what concert Soonyoung took you to.

“The Foo Fighters?” you grin, unbuckling your seatbelt. “I’ve been wanting to see them forever.: “Yeah, I remember you were talking about it on the radio, so I figured why not,” his voice trails off.

Your heart feels like it is going to burst at the seams. This is the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for you, and you had the nerve to be a bitch to him earlier.

“Hey,” you clear your throat. “I’m sorry again. I feel really shitty about it.”

“I know,” he says. “Look, let’s just enjoy this concert, and I’ll forget about it, okay?” You nod, walking towards the loud music. The rhythm of the drums and guitar blended together, hyping the crowd. You let Soonyoung lead the way, checking your tickets and guiding you to your seats. The crowd is thick, with the smell of cigarettes and alcohol flowing freely, and everyone is caught in their own zone. You wouldn’t say you are claustrophobic, but being packed like sardines isn’t your definition of a good time. Soonyoung notices your discomfort and grabs your hand, holding tight until he finds your assigned seats. You felt safe with him, a tiny spark in you that made you swoon.

“Are you okay?” He shouts over the noise. “Do you want a beer or anything?” “Nah, I’m good,” you shake your head.

The opening act finishes their set, the crowd politely cheering as the members walk off the stage. There is a small intermission, with people disbursing from their seats to grab drinks or making quick trips to the bathroom. You can feel Soonyoung looking at you, his eyes burning into the left side of your face. You lick your lips and pull strands of your hair to the back of your ear, a blatant attempt at flirting.

“Are you gonna stare at me all night?” You feel bold, turning your body towards him. “I might,” he purrs. “I have a beautiful, mysterious girl sitting beside me.”

“I’m not that mysterious. We’ve been talking for weeks.” ‘Yeah, in front of thousands of people on the radio. Now I have you all to myself, and I want to get to know the real you.”

“Uh huh,” you nod. “Well, I’m always the same on and off air. You’ll see.” “I hope so.” He smiles at you, and gotta admit the man can flirt. Soonyoung is devastatingly handsome, and he’s quick with his words. It excites you. You like being around people you can banter with and not take shit personally. It takes a load off your shoulders, not having to hold yourself back every time. You just want to be you and be free. It feels like Soonyoung is chasing the same thing.

“I wouldn’t have predicted you’d be into rock bands like the Foo Fighters. What made you want to go to their concert aside from me?”

“Well, you might be surprised to hear this, but I actually like the band,” he laughs. “I’ve been following them since their debut.”

“Really?” you say. “That’s cool.” “What?” Soonyoung leans closer, your shoulder barely touching his. “Do I not seem like the Foo Fighters type?” “Aht aht,” you playfully wave your finger at him. “I’m not getting tripped up on that question.” You fell into a rhythm of laughter that felt natural as if you had been doing this all your life. Despite your fuck up, he makes you feel cozy and open. The sun makes one final appearance, shining its glorious light on his beautiful, tanned skin. You can fully admit to yourself that he’s handsome as fuck, taking him all in before the sun dips below the horizon. “No, but seriously, I don’t seem like the type to be into them?” You pause before responding, being careful with your answer. “On the surface, no. But I am learning that there is more to a person than meets the eye.” There is a comfortable silence between you two, the sweet-smelling breeze keeping you at bay as you sit and enjoy each other’s company. You have so much you want to say but don’t simultaneously. You savor this tiny bit of peace with him. “I think I am gonna grab a drink,” Soonyoung gets up suddenly. “Do you want anything?” “Yeah, like a juice or something.” You watch him leave, checking out his ass as he stands in the concessions line. Nice and firm, definitely a football player’s ass. You look away before being caught, watching the crew prepare for the next act. You feel like a young girl who just realized you have a crush on a boy. You’re giddy inside, hypersensitive to everything around you and how you look. You hope he finds you as attractive as he says he does, or if not, keep up the lie a little longer. You’ve been dealt many disappointments in your life, and you can’t let this be one of them.

“Here. I got you a lemonade.”

You gaze up at Soonyoung, carefully grabbing the cup from his hand. He has a cup of beer in the other, sipping before making a face. You laugh in your cup, tasting your sweet drink with some tart. You feel refreshed and a little bit alive, thanks to him. “Ladies and gentlemen, who’s ready for the FOO FIGHTERS?”

The crowd erupts into a roar as the band joins the stage, getting their placements to perform. Jolts of electric excitement course throughout your body, screaming your heart out before the first string is played on the guitar. You’ve always wanted to see them in concert, being a huge fan of Nirvana and following Dave Grohl after. Despite everything, he seems like a rad guy, and

if you ever had the opportunity, you would want to pick his brain and jam out with him. “ARE YOU MUTHAFUCKERS READY?” Dave Grohl shouts into the mic.

You both scream as the first song is played, the drums scratching the excellent part of your brain while the guitars take you to another level. You look at Soonyoung, his attention on the band with his arms folded, in awe of the performance being given. He looks adorable, and all you can do is smile, satisfied that you are in this space and can experience this moment. The band keeps playing hit after hit, the energy around you making you want to levitate in the clouds. You haven’t been this happy in a long time. You reach the last song of the night, and the key changes, the guitars riffing into a song you know all too well. “I want everyone to sing this song with us— this is for the regular heroes out there.”

You feel the emotion and intensity in Dave Grohl’s voice, making you emotional. The song is about the ordinary person and their potential; you wish your family saw your potential. You wish you could share your music with them and see you thrive in the elements you’re most comfortable in. But instead, you’ve been cast out, and as much as you worked hard to get over it, it hurts you deeply. “Are you okay?” Soonyoung looks at you wide-eyed; you’re unaware of the tears trickling down your face. All you want to do is be held and told everything will be okay. As if he read your mind, he holds your hand, his thumb rubbing your palm softly, keeping you anchored in your emotional storm. Nothing else needed to be said between you two; the song lyrics moved your spirit. Kudos, my hero

Leavin' all the mess

You know my hero

The one that's on

There goes my hero

Watch him as he goes

There goes my hero

He's ordinary

“Thank you for taking me to the concert. I had a really good time.”

You sit with Soonyoung in his car, sitting outside of your dorm. You talked about music all the

way back home, singling your hearts out to whatever is on the radio. Soonyoung is surprisingly a good singer, hitting some notes even better than you can. You wonder if he had any training. “I’m glad I was able to make it up to you,” he grins. “Oh, please,” you wave him off. I’m the one who started us on the wrong foot.” “True. But I think you more than made up for it tonight.” “Yeah, yeah,” you roll your eyes playfully. “Can I ask you something?” “Sure.”

“Why were you crying during the concert?” You knew this question would come eventually, but you still felt unprepared. You hadn’t really talked about your family life with anyone besides Nikki, but you were determined to keep it to yourself. But he makes you want to open up. “The song really hits me,” you point at your chest. “I feel every word and every percussion note as it plays. It reminds me of my mom and dad, and I wish they saw me as a normal person with their own aspirations rather than the person they want me to be. It was so quiet that you could hear a pin drop. Soonyoung nodded his head, understanding what you were saying.

“My parents wanted me to be a doctor or a lawyer, and I just don’t see myself doing that. I fell in love with music and singing, and when I shared that I wanted to do songwriting full-time, they made me feel so low. Like I am stupid and naive for wanting a career, I would actually be happy.” You huff, wiping fresh tears off of your face. “I just wanted them to support me, but they couldn’t even do that. Aside from my grandparents, they cut me off completely.” “That’s not cool,” Soonyoung scoffs. “So they just went cold turkey and quit talking to you?” You nod, bitterly reliving the last conversation you had with them before you made no contact. “Why can’t our parents just let us live the lives we want? It’s like they want to live vicariously through us.” “Right?!” You exclaim. “See, you get it!”

“Unfortunately, yeah,” he mumbled. You turn your body to look at him, studying his face and the possible thoughts he is having. You may see more eye to eye than you realize. ‘So, what’s your damage?” You poke at him. “It’s the same as yours,” he revealed. “They just want me to keep playing basketball so I can go into the big leagues and take care of everyone. I am essentially everyone’s meal ticket.” “Well, you don’t have to be,” you say. “You could just say fuck ‘em and live for yourself.” “Easier said than done,” he sighs. “I’m the first person in my family to attend college, and I actually like playing basketball. I believe in it, bleed it, all that… but whenever I am around my folks or friends, that’s all they want me to be about it. It’s like I’m not real. I am a person with complex interests and feelings, too.”

“I know exactly what you mean, tiger.”

You smile reassuringly; you understand that last sentence all too well. Your family would rather consider you the family fuck up, the black sheep, instead of understanding that you wanted different things. Why is that so fucking complicated? You stifle a yawn, looking at your watch and seeing how late it was.

“I really like talking to you and being around you,” Soonyoung confesses. I hope we can do it more.” “Yeah,” you gaze into his eyes. “ I would love that.” He walks you to your dorm, opens the doors, and holds your waist as you walk up the steps. His hands bring jitters and butterflies in your stomach that you hope you can experience more. You know you have a hard, cold exterior on the outside, but deep down, you want to feel love and adoration from someone. You hope Soonyoung can bring that.

You never want this feeling to go away.

“Thank you for walking me in,” you say, unlocking the keys to your room. “I know I was being a bitch early, but thank you for showing me a good time anyway.”

“It was worth it, seeing a smile on your face.”

“Was it?”

“Yeah,” he leans in closer. “I want to see it more.”

His lips touch yours, your chest bursting like fireworks as he deepens the kiss. Your arms rest on his shoulders, feeling natural and comfortable like a glove. He is gentle and kind, not doing too much but making you feel safe and like you can depend on him. It's crazy how one kiss can have you seeing your future.

“We should do that more often,” you joke, leaving one last peck. He chuckles, pulling you into a hug. “We will. I’ll make sure to do it more often.”

“Okay,” you say, walking into your dorm. “I’ll hold you to it.”

#kvanity #kwritersworldnet #svthub #svt fanfic #svt oneshot #svt scenarios #svt imagines #soonyoung fanfic #soonyoung x reader #soonyoung fluff #soonyoung angst #svt fluff #svt angst #hoshi fluff #hoshi angst #hoshi x reader

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tiannasfanfic · 1 year

Text

Paparazzi

Eddie Munson x Reader (Angst)

| Eddie Munson Masterlist | AO3 Link |

Summary: All of Eddie Munson's dreams come true when Corroded Coffin finally catches their big break. But once the record deal is signed, the executives take control of their images, lives and their relationships.

Rating: Explicit 18+

Author Note: Afab reader, they/them pronouns. Angst with a Happy Ending. Rockstar!Eddie AU where record labels have old Hollywood like control of their artists lives.

CW: Controlling behavior from record label; social alcohol use; secret relationship; mentions of cheating but no actual cheating; smut (kissing, fingering, blowjob, tit job, p in v, slight exhibitionism); consensual non-con photos taken by paparazzi.

Word Count: 12,937

Eddie Munson Taglist: @eddie-swhore

Life is a bit complicated when you are the secret girlfriend of a rockstar. While it certainly comes with a lot of benefits, and the lifestyle it provided was beyond anything in your wildest dreams, it came at the steep price of some heartache and emotional discomfort.

Though, in all honesty, “secret” was purely a subjective word at this point. The rest of the band knew. All of their people knew. The record label knew. The touring crew knew. His wife knew. All of her people knew. Anyone that needed to know knew.

The general public, on the other hand, did not know, which is how you found yourself the mistress of your high school sweetheart.

How exactly did this happen, you ask?

Now that certainly is quite a story.

Once Eddie’s name had been cleared of all murder charges, the members of Corroded Coffin made getting the hell out of Hawkins their number one priority. It took a little over a year once the last member graduated from high school, but the band was finally able to make the move together to Indianapolis. They shared a small, one room apartment since it was all they could afford and set out to make a name for themselves.

Like most bands, Corroded Coffin was discovered purely by chance. After a couple years of playing in bars around the city, one of their shows was seen by an agent from Los Angeles, who happened in town for a wedding and took a break from family to relax to some local music. That’s how the band met Joe, the man who would become their manager and who would help catapult them to success.

With Joe’s help, they got a demo recorded and then Joe managed to get one of their songs on the radio. It took off, giving the band quite a bit of local popularity. After yet another move, this time to LA, they once again started over fresh, but soon Joe had them playing regular gigs around the city. It was only a matter of time before they were signed to a label and their demo re-recorded to be released as their first studio album.

It was shortly after this, when the band began to rise in popularity, that they realized how little the music industry actually dealt with music. Creating and maintaining an image was the largest priority.

And the image they had, as it turns out, was metal as hell right out the gate.

Four childhood friends from a small town in Indiana that were bullied for being outcasts. They lost three, almost four, classmates to serial killer Henry Creel. Front man, Eddie Munson, was initially accused of the murders due to being a metalhead loner but was eventually cleared on all charges. They survived a devastating earthquake that nearly destroyed their hometown but destroyed their homes. The front man himself then spent months recovering from a physical assault that nearly killed him and left prominent scars on his body. Through it all, they stuck together.

Everything about their story, particularly Eddie’s, was absolute perfection. It paired beautifully with their music and lyrics, with Eddie’s descriptions of bats in an upside down being seen as a metaphor for bullies terrorizing their victims.

It was all perfect except for one tiny detail.

You.

“Absolutely fucking not!” Eddie yelled, jumping to his feet so fast the chair nearly toppled backwards. “Whoever thought of that one can shove it up their ass!”

It been a casual, relaxed Monday morning up until that point. Everyone was well rested coming off the weekend. It had been quiet one, giving you all some much needed time off. The majority of it you and Eddie spent at home. Despite the fact you two went everywhere and did everything together, you never grew tired of each other’s company.

However, everyone went from relaxed to angry in two seconds once Joe told them what the executives at the label had suggested for Eddie to give himself an edger image.

“Eddie, let’s just-“ Joe started to say, slowly rising to his feet behind his desk, his hands making a settle down gesture.

“Let’s just what?” Gareth interrupted, looking as furious as Eddie, but still sitting down.

“Let’s just talk about this calmly,” Joe said. “I wasn’t saying I-“

“There’s nothing to talk about!” Jeff interrupted now, also angry looking.

“Right!” Nick yelled, jumping to his feet. “We’re not going to ditch Y/N and leave them behind for no good fucking reason!”

But in the minds of the label executives, they had a very good reason for suggesting this.

It was all about image. Single front men drew more attention, they said, especially when they looked like Eddie. He was someone every guy wanted to be, and every woman wanted to fuck, which would result in higher popularity in both market segments. Plus, with everything Eddie had been through, they wanted him to project himself as a lonely bad boy, but one who had a different girl on his arm every night.

Apparently, being with someone for fourteen years wasn’t very metal, nor did it mesh with the image of young, rock n’ roll promiscuity they felt Eddie should portray as his lifestyle.

Obviously, this upset you all. After so many years of leaning on each other, you all were a family now. You might as well have been in the band yourself with how close you all were.

You had been around even before Corroded Coffin, when it was just you and Eddie, two middle schoolers who fell deeply in love on the first day of school. You were there for the founding, and you were technically their very first manager even before Joe. You had worked your ass off promoting them as best you could, first at the school then the bars around Hawkins. You went with them to Indianapolis, lived in the shitty apartment with them, and dealt with just as many asshole bar owners to get them on stage time, if not more.

And then you did it all over again without complaint when they set up shop in LA, only under the helpful guiding eye of Joe. It had been a long and crazy road for the five of you, but you got through it all supporting each other.

You belonged here with them, and they knew it as well as you did. They weren’t about to just leave you behind, nor would you have let them. Not now, not ever, and certainly not just a few weeks before their first major tour as an opening act. The tour was kicking off in Seattle, hometown of the headliners. You were going to see the country with them if they had anything to say about it.

“Guys!” Joe barked, finally having to raise his voice to get their attention again. “I don’t agree with it either!”

That got them to simmer down enough that he was able to continue uninterrupted.

“Kid, I get it,” he said, putting his hands on the desk to lean over and make eye contact with the wrecked front man. “Believe me, I get it. Valerie and I hit thirty-five years next week. Coral anniversary. I still have no fucking clue what to get her. But I do know one thing.” Joe pointed one finger at Eddie. “I wouldn’t give her up either on any man’s word either.”

Joe sat back down, then made a gesture for them to do the same. Nick obliged with a heavy sigh, but Eddie came to stand behind your chair, his ringed hands resting on your shoulders. Joe pulled his glasses off to rub the bridge of his nose for a moment.

“It was only a suggestion,” he said as he put his glasses back on. “Nothing has been passed down as Word from God yet. Yet.” He held up a finger as he said the second yet. “But some of the big guys see potential in this storyline for you, which means they see money in it for them.”

“So, what are you saying?” Eddie asked with a tight voice, his hands squeezing your shoulders.

“I’m saying, now that the idea has been brought up, it’s not likely to go away,” Joe said, then leaned back in his chair. “And, judging by how excited they seem about this one, I’m guessing the order to actually sever ties with Y/N will come down soon. They’ll want time for the word about Corroded Coffin’s newly single front man to get around before the tour starts.”

Everyone quietly stared at him, speechless.

“That quick, eh?” you said, finally breaking the silence. Joe nodded regretfully. In an attempt to lighten the mood, you looked up at Eddie with a half grin. “Babe, most guys would kill for this chance. You might want to think it over a little more carefully.”

Joe was the only one to laugh, but he quickly turned it into a cough at the glare he got from Eddie.

The glare softened before it was turned on you, but you still got glared at regardless.

“This isn’t funny, Precious,” he said, and you could see it in his eyes that he was close to panic. “They’re fools if they think I would discard you so easily into the fires of Mount Doom.”

One thing you learned about Eddie Munson a long time ago is, when he’s under a lot of stress, be it from the chord of a song being difficult to having to hide at Skull Rock wanted for murder, he starts making Lord of the Rings references about the situation.

You reached up to rest one hand on top of his and gave it a soft squeeze. Eddie quickly wound his fingers through yours so you were holding hands.

“You’ve gotta admit though,” you said, smiling reassuringly. “Those assholes do have a point, babe. Most guys don’t get into this business while attached. They live a rowdy life and never settle down until they either marry a porn star or marry the mistress they cheated on their first wife with.”

As you spoke, Eddie’s face became a mask of abject horror. He quickly came around to drop to his knees in front of your chair and took your face in his hands.

“Sweetheart, please tell me we’re not splitting up right now,” he whispered, looking near tears.

“We’re not,” you said firmly, taking his face in your hands. “Absolutely fucking not. I just said they have a good point.”

Relief washed over his face, and he wrapped you in his arms. After you exchanged a tight hug, Joe cleared his throat so your attention would come back to him.

“Now, as I was about to say before you all started yelling at me,” he said, pausing to give them a fatherly glare before continuing. “There is an alternative, but it will require a lot of discretion from you two lovebirds.”

Since Corroded Coffin didn’t have much media attention outside of local music papers, you were still an unknown name in the scene. Local places knew you as Eddie’s girl. In interviews, if relationships ever came up, Eddie had only referred to you as “my girl” instead of by name. You certainly weren’t in any of the official photos the band had done. You could fade into the background easily and go unnoticed.

Based on Joe’s suggestion, which was immediately approved by the guys before you could get a word in edgewise, you went from Eddie’s longtime sweetheart to his personal assistant. That was actually the next matter on the agenda anyway since Eddie was the only member of the band without one and he needed to get the hiring done soon before the tour started.

Two birds, one stone, as they say.

“Wait, wait, wait!” you protested as the guys were taking turns high giving Joe for his ingenuity. “I’ve never been a personal assistant before! I’m not going to know what the hell I’m doing!”

“You’ll be fine,” Joe said, turning to you with a warm smile. “Trust me, my dear, I’ve had many personal assistants over the years and I’m quite sure none of them knew what they were doing either.”

Fortunately, Gareth’s personal assistant, Lucy, did know what she was doing. She was able to give you a crash course in the weeks leading up to the tour so you would know what the typical day of a personal assistant is like before you were throw into it.

While you took to your new responsibilities with ease and spent just as much time with Eddie day to day as you did before, the change in your status didn’t really become apparent until after you had left the home comforts of LA.

Two nights before the first concert of the tour, the headliners wanted to give everyone a proper welcome to Seattle by treating the bands to a night on the town. Since It was their first ever tour as the main act, they were in the mood to party. Band members, their entourages, and dates only.

Since it would look a little odd for Eddie to be the only one showing up with his personal assistant as a date, you had to break the news to him that you weren’t going. This resulted in you having to nearly force him into going since staying in with his personal assistant rather than partying with a famous band would look even odder.

While you were just as upset as Eddie, you didn’t let it show. He could tell. You knew he could tell. But keeping a brave face kept his cracks from showing. He could keep it together if you could, and that’s exactly what you did. You helped him get ready and shared the elevator down with the band until it reached the floor your room was on. All of the boys were sad you wouldn’t be joining and hugged you before you exited. With nothing left to do today, your plan was to raid the mini fridge and cry.

You were well into your second tiny bottle of vodka when a frantic knocking at the door to your room nearly gave you a heart attack. Then your mind immediately went to Eddie. Thinking he had changed his mind about staying, you rushed to the door, not sure if you were about to hug him or yell at him.

Instead, you found a very breathless Lucy standing outside.

“Here,” she said, thrusting several shopping bags into your arms. “Change into that and get your ass down to the hotel bar pronto.”

You blinked several times, looking from Lucy to the bag then back to Lucy.

“What’s going o-“

“No time to explain, just do it!” she hissed urgently, then retired to her room across from yours.

Twenty minutes later, as you stepped out of the elevator into the hotel lobby, you immediately regretted your decision to play along with whatever Lucy had planned.

Inside the bag had been an outfit that made it easier for you to blend in among the groupies scattered about the lobby. It was tight in all the right places, layered everywhere else just right to smooth everything out as it hugged close your body and pushed everything up to just the right angles. When paired with the high-quality black wig you found one of the other bags, you hardly recognized yourself. While it was far from your normal style, while in the privacy of your room, even you had to admit that you looked damn good. Feeling bold, you added some dark makeup, the jacket from the final bag and a pair of your own shoes to top everything off.

It was easy to feel confident while in your room, and even while on the way downstairs, but now as several patrons in the lobby looked you over, appraising you, you felt exposed and extremely uncomfortable.

You swallowed nervously, took a deep breath to calm yourself, and then did your best to ignore any leering stares as you headed for the hotel bar just as Lucy instructed.

A loud cacophony of voices and laughter hit your ears as soon as you walked in. The place was packed. You hadn’t realized this was where the bands would be gathering to meet up. It looked like they were still waiting on a few people, so they were having a few drinks as they waited to set off.

As you made your way over to sit at the bar itself, you glanced around the room. It didn’t take you long to spot Corroded Coffin. You couldn’t help but smile seeing them. Three of the guys seemed to have already found a companion for the night, while Eddie sat there playing with his rings and looking like he’d rather be anywhere else right now. It almost made you laugh how sullen he looked, but you kept your cool as you took a seat. Since Lucy hadn’t given you any other instructions, you ordered yourself a drink.

Fortunately, you didn’t have to wait around long to figure out what scheme Lucy had been a part of. Not long after you began sipping your drink, you were fetched from the bar by Garth’s bodyguard and lead to the Corroded Coffin table.

Gareth grinned at you as he watched your approach. The glimmer he had in his eye told you this had been his plan rather than Lucy’s.

“Good evening, miss,” Gareth said to you as you stopped at their table. “I couldn’t help but notice you sitting at the bar all alone. Are expecting company this evening?”

You shook your head, desperately trying to keep a straight face.

Gareth straightened up brightly, then winked at the redhead sitting with him, who giggled.

Sometime between high school and now, Gareth had become quite charming with the ladies. Granted, he wasn’t trying at all that hard with you, just enough to sell the ruse, but whatever he had said to the young woman earlier clearly still had her under his spell.

“Wonderful!” he said, then gestured extravagantly to Eddie. “My friend here also happens to be without company for the evening. We’re about to head out to dinner, but it doesn’t feel right for him to be here alone. Would you care to join him?”

You finally let your gaze slide around the table, taking in the happy grins of Jeff and Nick, before letting your gaze land on Eddie.

And you almost lost your shit laughing.

He was now sitting with his eyes closed, his facial expression a mix of annoyance and resignation, as if he were now mentally preparing himself for a long evening with unwanted companionship.

“Hmm, I’m not so sure,” you said, keeping your gaze on Eddie and tilting your head at him. “Your friend sure doesn’t look like he wants my company.”

At the sound of your voice, Eddie’s eyes shot open, and he looked up at you in confusion. It took a moment for him to register what he was seeing. His jaw dropped as realization set in.

“Pfft, that’s just his normal face,” Gareth said, making all the girls at the table laugh, and you looked back over to see him wave his hand through the air in a gesture of dismissal. “I’m sure he’d love to have your company.” He looked over at the front man with a grin. “Wouldn’t you, Eddie?”

Despite the verbal cue from Gareth, Eddie just continued to stare at you until the blonde sitting between him and Jeff finally elbowed him in the ribs.

“Oh, y-yeah,” Eddie murmured, jumping out of the booth. He cleared his throat then stepped aside, gesturing to the seat with a bow. “It’d be an honor if you would grace me with your presence, m’lady.”

The other women at table giggled at Eddie as you lowered yourself into the booth, but as you scooted over to make room for Eddie, the brunette at Nick’s side started to pout.

“Aww,” she said, winking at you. “I was just about to say, if he didn’t want your company, we certainly wouldn’t mind a third.” She looked up at Nick and winked at him. “Would we, Nicky?”

Nick nearly choked on his drink, eyes slightly widening in horror at the idea of a threesome with the girl he thought of like a sister.

“N-nah,” he said, fumbling his words for a second before thinking of a good response. “I’m a one-woman man and, baby, you’re all I need tonight.”

It was a good recovery. Nick’s words had brunette giggling and blushing. You couldn’t help but grin yourself, remembering back when Nick used to be a stammering fool around the other sex instead of the smooth talker he was now.

You couldn’t help but wonder right then where the time had gone.

As soon as Eddie was seated next to you, he wasted no time before throwing his arm over your shoulders and pulling you close. A round of introductions began, where you then pretended to not know anyone at the table.

It didn’t take long for the guys to return their attention back to their respective ladies, leaving you and Eddie in your own little bubble at the end of the table.

“Getting a bit handsy aren’t we?” you couldn’t help but giggle as he leaned in to nuzzle your ear, keeping your tone soft enough only he could hear you. “After all, we only just met, like, five seconds ago.”

Your hand slid over into his lap to softly squeeze his thigh as you spoke. Eddie sucked his breath in through his teeth, then you felt him grin against your ear.

“Well, they do say the front man of Corroded Coffin is a bit of a whore,” he said to you softly, then took ahold of your chin with his free hand and turned your head gently so you were looking at him. “And I’d say that makes me your whore, now, doesn’t it?”

Much later that night, when Eddie brought the raven-haired woman back to the hotel, he made sure everyone in the surrounding rooms heard exactly how much of a whore he was for you.

That was how things continued for most nights on the tour, with you being snuck along to parties as Eddie’s piece of ass for the night. While this wasn’t what either of you had pictured when dreaming of your life together once he made it big, Eddie didn’t care so long as you could be by his side. No matter how you were dressed, now he actually had the money to the queen you always were to him. The whole crew figured out the scheme halfway into the tour schedule, but they pretended not to for plausible deniability’s sake.

The record label wasn’t exactly happy with Eddie’s interpretation of their desires but couldn’t exactly say it wasn’t effective. The front man of Corroded Coffin was projecting exactly the image they wanted; a hard partying bad boy who had his pick of women every night. Who cared if it was the same woman in a wig? So long as Eddie kept playing it up, and your true identity went undetected, they had to let it go.

That was until they were in the studio working on their next album and Eddie unknowingly opened the door for them to finally step in.

A couple months had passed since that first tour successfully wrapped up. Corroded Coffin was enjoying more fame and publicity, but despite the happy, smiling personas the guys wore in public, they were all varying degrees of miserable. It was hard to be happy when they had little to no control over their lives.

On the day they signed with their record deal with the label, Nick made the joke that they were signing their souls away. It turned out to be a very prophetic statement. While Eddie received the brunt of it being the front man, life wasn’t much better for the rest of the band. None of them really had a say in major life decisions anymore. Even potential relationships had to be approved by label executives first.

While everyone was upset about it, there was no one more upset than Eddie. By signing his soul away, he felt like he had inadvertently signed yours away as well.

A few months after they began working on the album, the next big story in entertainment news broke. An actor just had a baby with his former personal assistant. This was the same personal assistant he was caught having an affair with the year before via telephoto lens.

While it wasn’t exactly the same situation, it inspired Eddie. Now that Corroded Coffin had started attending more publicity events, he wanted things to go back to normal with you two. He missed being able to be free with his affection for you. He had Joe pitch the idea to the label that involved him starting to publicly date his own personal assistant. It shouldn’t cause a stir like the actor did because he was single, Joe reasoned on Eddie’s behalf. They could restart their relationship over in the public eye. No one would be any wiser. Pretending to be a new couple wouldn’t be hard since the guys often teased you both about how your honeymoon period was still going on.

While the label executives did agree it was time for Eddie to start settling down and have a regular date on his arm, they had different ideas as to who would be his girl.

Eddie was then informed he would be entering an arranged relationship with someone of their choosing. However, they wouldn’t be dating for long. Not due to a breakup, but because they would be married within the next two months. It was an arrangement that would be beneficial for everyone, the executives reassured.

For his future bride, they had chosen adult actress and dancer Deandra Day. She had starred in the two most recent Corroded Coffin videos and had recently began dancing live at their local shows. The new storyline the label had in mind for Eddie was the bad boy that finally met the right woman and settled down.

And, with that, they expressly stated that Eddie was now a one-woman man effectively immediately. His public persona was to now be a man deeply in love with his wife. There were to be no more one-night stands with women from hotel bars.

The news hit hard, for both you and Eddie.

Marriage was one of the things you two had always put off for later. Mainly it had been Eddie who wanted to wait, wanting to put on a grand spectacle when it finally did happen. He had known on the very first day of sixth grade when you gave him your extra pencil that he was going to marry you. He had told you as much right then and he could still remember how baffled you initially looked after that statement. But then you grinned and said okay, the memory of voice right then could still make Eddie’s heart skip a beat.

Eddie still wanted to marry you just as much now as he did when he was twelve years old. The idea of marrying anyone else completely shattered him.

They were leaving you with your duties as his personal assistant, but little else. Your position ensured you would still be there backstage at concerts, interviews, on tours and on location during shoots. That was it. The after parties, fancy dinners, VIP sections, limo tours of cities, everything else was cut off to you now. You would have to stand back and watch as another woman took your rightful place.

While you were just as upset as Eddie about it, you weren’t exactly surprised. The executives didn’t like it when their artists outsmarted them. And you had been warned that they held grudges. Joe had long suspected the label would eventually make a play to get rid of you again in order to mold Eddie into the artist they wanted him to be. As much as Joe had tried to prepare you for it, that didn’t stop it from hurting when finally happened.

Ironically, the one redeeming quality in the whole situation was actually Eddie’s wife to be. The label had unknowingly given the both of you a huge boon in choosing Deandra for this new role.

Deandra had no interest in an intimate connection with Eddie. For her, the marriage was purely a business arrangement to further her career goals. After being in the adult industry for so long, she was interested in branching out into music. While she was a talented singer, getting a foot in the door was hard for anyone just starting out, no matter their fame in other form of entertainment. The music industry was very competitive, and one that had a lot of turnover. Deandra didn’t want to be a one hit wonder or have one good album then fade into the background. She actually wanted to have a long-term career. This marriage to Eddie would open the doors she needed in order to be successful much faster than they would normally open for her. Her commitment to the label only required the marriage to last for a minimum two years with the option to renew, which she had no intention of doing.

While on the surface it seemed like there was nothing in this for Eddie aside from having a beautiful actress on his arm, that couldn’t have been further from the truth. The evenings spent on Eddie’s arm may have ended for you, but the appearance of a steady relationship opened other avenues for you to be together.

There was no need to recruit Deandra into your conspiracy. She identified the relationship after Eddie introduced you at the very first video shoot simply by the way he did it.

“He introduced you the way any man should introduce his wife,” she explained after asking them directly how long they’d been together. “And most men I’ve met don’t even introduce their own wives with that much reverence, much less their personal assistants.”

With her being in your corner, your time with Eddie actually increased after the wedding. Since the record label had no control over Deandra or her schedule, outside of her contractual appearances with Eddie, she was rarely around. Since a majority of her work in adult movies was based in the San Francisco area, she had no intention of ever selling her house to permanently move to Los Angeles. When the studio prodded at Eddie to finally purchase a house with his wife, Deandra made sure she was shooting out of town and busy with projects for other clients. You were officially sent by Deandra in her stead to give you and Eddie the opportunity to finally pick out your dream home together without the prying eyes of the label.

It ended up being way easier for a member of staff to sneak you in and out of the house everyday than it was pretending you were a groupie. The modest mansion just off the beach in Malibu had a six-car garage, two of which were always empty. All you had to do was lay down in the backseat of a car with heavily tinted windows, until they pulled inside and the doors closed. No one was ever the wiser.

Once you were inside, you and Eddie could do as you pleased. The decorator had ensured the place was outfitted with heavy duty blinds and drapes, an oddity for a mansion with such an amazing view of the ocean, but it ensured total privacy. You could be yourselves, even on the rare times Deandra stayed in Malibu. But it was easy to keep to yourselves, Deandra had her own room while you and Eddie had the master bedroom.

The end date of the arranged marriage came while Corroded Coffin was back in the studio working on their fifth album. The joint statement announcing Eddie and Deandra’s separation had been drafted by the label and Deandra’s PR team. The announcement would coincide with the album’s release to garner publicity. From adult movies to music, this was a common marketing tool many entertainers used to drum up publicity for new releases. Sad news such as a divorce always brought in sympathy dollars.

With the popularity of Corroded Coffin at an all-time high, the label executives had been in good spirits about the band for a while. They had started loosening the reins some with its members, allowing them more freedoms in their personal relationships. Joe felt confident that so long as the album succeeded as well as they’d hoped, and the divorce went smoothly, that Eddie would be able to enjoy that same freedom as well.

But just as you began to see light at the end of the tunnel, it winked out of existence.

A former disgruntled employee spoke to a tabloid about the suspiciously close relationship between the married front man of Corroded Coffin and his personal assistant. They provided firsthand accounts of witnessing suspicious behavior that occurred between the two of you.

While the source remained anonymous, everyone suspected an aide that Jeff had recently hired and then almost immediately fired after catching him stealing his fiancés jewelry. The incidents described in the interview were fairly recent, and the former aide was the only unknown among those present for them.

Luckily for the label, the editor of the tabloid who purchased the story owed one of the executives a favor and gave him a call as soon as they had bought the rights to the story. An arrangement was worked out for the label to purchase the story, and it was swiftly buried.

Unluckily for you, the label was angry. While they were willing to tolerate some controversy and scandal generated by their artists, they did not abide major scandals like adultery.

As of that day, you were barred from all properties owned or affiliated with the label. You were also barred from any concert or event sponsored by the label. On top of that, Eddie was told not to enter into any relationships once the divorce was announced because once it was final, they would have someone new already lined up for him. This time, they expected him to be a truly devoted husband and even possibly start a family with his new wife.

It was a complete disaster.

The only time you had with each other now was at home. As much as the label wanted to, they couldn’t control what went on inside the privacy of Eddie’s house, and you technically lived there. In retaliation, they started booking him for more event appearances. publicity appearances and after party appearances, keeping him away from home as much as possible. When he was at home, he was exhausted, and you let him rest as much as possible.

With the new album fixing to be released, a new tour was already being planned. It was to be Corroded Coffins first tour as the only headliner, with their opening act. But it was hard for anyone to be excited knowing you’d effectively be a prisoner on the tour bus unable to enjoy it with them. You wouldn’t be able to leave while at the venues since the tour was label sponsored. Most of the hotels they would be staying at were label affiliated, which ensured you couldn’t set foot on the properties.

Even though the story about Eddie and his personal assistant never broke, whispers overheard at the tabloid office alerted some paparazzi to a potential story regarding Corroded Coffin’s front man. No one knew specifics, of course, just that there were some rumors that Eddie Munson might be cheating on his wife. But paparazzi don’t need specifics to latch onto a lead. The house was now under constant watch, and you and Eddie both were constantly followed. As production on the album grew closer to wrapping, it began to get extremely hard for you to slip to and from your own home unnoticed.

After several miserable weeks, Deandra approached both you and Eddie with an idea.

It was a bold idea. A daring, not to mention extremely provocative, idea. But it was an idea that, if executed correctly, could be just the ticket to the freedom you all so desperately needed. But while it was you and Eddie that would be exposing yourselves to major controversy and possible public humiliation, you weren’t the only three people that would be affected by it. You sought out the rest of the band and they gave their blessing. With Joe, you two decided it was better to ask for forgiveness rather than permission.

It was all up to you and Eddie now.

Using the labels own marketing tactics against them, the three of you decided the best time to enact the plan would be the night after the new album released. The label was sitting on the joint statement regarding the divorce for at least another week, giving the album time to naturally rise up the charts before giving it that sympathy boost.

There was also a second reason for choosing that particular night. While Deandra had been in town for a couple of weeks, that particular evening she would be out for most it. After heading to dinner with her normal entourage, she would then be spending the rest of the evening MCing an event at a local club. With the after party that was to follow, Deandra didn’t expect to be home until close to sunup the next day. It wouldn’t look weird for Eddie to stay at home since they rarely attended anything together save for award shows. Deandra felt like the plan would have a better effect if she were just merely out of the house for the night rather than in another city for several days, if not weeks. It made the whole thing more taboo, in her opinion.

When the night in question finally came around, your nerves kicked up. The finality of it all was starting to sink in. After tonight, there would be no way to hide anymore, no way to blend in with the crowd. You and Eddie both were about to be put at the mercy of public opinion and let the fans decide your ultimate fate out here in California.

Once Deandra had left to head out for dinner, and a suitably long enough time had passed, it was time. Eddie got everything ready while you got changed.

The backyard of your home wasn’t large by mansion standards, but it was far from small by normal standards. It was wider than it was long, holding a rectangle shaped pool with a built-in hot tub on the side closest to the house. Even with that space taken up, there was still room for a small yard complete with privacy fence on one side of the pool, and an outdoor cooking space on the other side. The view below took in the beach and beyond that the beautiful Pacific Ocean.

As the sun lowered past the midpoint of the horizon, the outdoor lights in this little backyard paradise automatically came on. While there were bright security lights at the front and sides of the house, back here the lighting was soft rather than bright, programmed with quiet relaxation in mind. Clear garden lights hung underneath the porch, illuminating the sitting area and hot tub with a gentle glow. Dimly lit solar lamps lined the pool area with enough light to watch your step. The pool itself was lit from within, the water glowing with a soft illumination. There were a few lights dotting along the structure of the house to add lighting to the house itself.

It was your quiet paradise that Eddie helped you find but had been unable to fully enjoy.

Until tonight, at least.

Once you heard the outside speakers begin to softly play some newer music that you both liked, you knew it was time. You made your way downstairs, wearing the bikini Deandra had bought for you earlier that week, your heart pounding the whole way. Every time you caught sight of yourself in a mirror, you couldn’t help but pause to gawk.

While it wasn’t so far away from your normal style that it looked completely out of place on you, it certainly displayed a lot more skin than you were normally willing to show. It fit you well though, the thin fabric hugging your body comfortably tight. Whoever designed it had both sex appeal and wearability in mind.

After a few stops just to stare at yourself, you finally made it to the dark kitchen and then the sliding door leading to the backyard. Looking out, you could see Eddie had already settled himself into the hot tub, his hair wet now and plastered back on his head. He was in a relaxed posed; both arms up behind him on the edge of the hot tub, with his head tilted back and eyes closed.

Your gaze shifted over to your yard, then let your eyes drift slightly beyond it to the vine covered fence. Somewhere in that area hidden by vines and shadows, you knew two of the slats in the fence had been cut from the outside. The hole this left could easily accommodate a wide-angle camera lens. It was a fairly recent vandalism, done within the last few weeks when the paparazzi really began staking out the house. And you knew with as many people that had been caught spying on the house in that same time period, it was likely that the hole was always manned.

Normally, this gross violation of privacy would have severely angered you, but now it had the opportunity to work in your favor. Whoever was currently behind the peep hole would be getting a clear view of everything that was about to happen.

You took a deep breath, tried to calm yourself one last time, and stepped out the door.

Eddie didn’t hear the door when you opened it, too lost in this peaceful moment of solitude. However, he did hear the soft click of it shutting over the low music and soft hum of the jets and lifted his head to turn towards you. It took a second for the image he was seeing to translate in his brain, but when it did, his eyes widened, and his jaw dropped.

No matter how many times over the years that Eddie saw you naked or in something he thought was sexy, he always behaved like it was the first time.

“Goddamn babe,” he called out breathlessly, arms coming down from the edge of the hot tub so he could lean forward, forearms on his knees, as he carefully watched your approach.

You took your time as you made your way over to the hot tub, your eyes taking him in as much as he was you. The heat of water made his skin flushed, which when paired with the intense gaze he was giving you made him look almost feral.

A cool breeze blew in off the ocean just as reached the hot tub. With only the bikini covering you, goosebumps slightly rose up on your skin and you felt your nipples hardening at the temperature change. The thin fabric covering your tits did nothing to hide this, and you saw Eddie’s gaze dip down to your chest.

As you stepped down into the water, you watched his eyes darken as he took you in again now that you were at close range.

“Deandra did good, I take it?” you asked, making your way down the rest of the steps until you were standing on the bottom.

Eddie’s head rapidly bobbed up and down.

“My soon to be ex-wife has excellent taste,” he said, his tongue running over his bottom lip as his face started to grow more flushed.

Right as you started to lower yourself into the water to take the seat across from Eddie, he lifted one arm up and extended his hand out to you. You took a couple steps forward, closing the distance to accept the gesture by placing your hand in his. With a gentle tug on your arm, he pulled you into his lap, his free hand resting on your waist to help steady you as you positioned yourself to straddle his thighs.

“Hi there,” you said with a coy smile, your hands resting on his shoulders. “Come here often?”

“Not exactly here, per say,” Eddie replied with a chuckle as his hands rested comfortably on your hips, his head tilting back up to look at you. “But I hope that changes soon.”

With a smile, you leaned down to kiss him passionately. His response was immediate with no hesitation, his lips latching onto yours to return your intensity with his own. As your tongues met just inside his lips, Eddie slid one hand up your back, traveling upwards until it finally came to a rest on the back of your neck. He held onto you tightly, his remaining hand pulling at your hip to slide you forward in his lap.

With your bodies now so close together, chest to chest, you gave your hips a gentle roll against him. Eddie softly groaned into your mouth, his hips slightly thrusting upwards to match your movement.

Then he broke away from you just enough so he could speak, his eyes gazing up into yours.

“You’re sure you want to do this?” he asked you, voice low and soft enough it couldn’t be heard by anyone else but you. “It’s not too late to back out.”

You shook your head.

“It is,” you said, lightly running your nails down the back of his neck. “They’ve got photos of us kissing now at least.”

Eddie studied your face, as if looking for any sign of hesitation, then nodded before returning his lips to yours.

It was a lot easier to let go and forget about your audience than you would’ve thought. But as Eddie’s lips moved downwards towards your neck, and then started sucking on that one spot just below your ear, everything around the hot tub just faded away.

You moaned softly, head tilting back as your hips pushed forward into his impulsively. A soft grunt left Eddie, his ass bucking up slightly at the feeling. You hadn’t done it very hard, just enough for him to feel you rub against his hardening length. But it was enough to spur him on.

The hand on your hip slipped down slightly to rest on your ass. Squeezing it tightly, Eddie pulled your hips forward again as he thrust his own towards you. You moaned softly into his mouth, helping him out by rocking your hips down into his thrusts. He stopped pulling at you when he realized you were matching the movements, instead holding onto you firmly as bucked up into you harder. His motions were rough enough to make your body jar upwards on his lap. You both swallowed each other’s moans, the thin fabric of your respective swimsuits doing little to dull the sensations of you grinding against each other.

Your hands slid down his back, raking his skin with your nails as they went. It wasn’t a hard scratch, but not a light one either, making Eddie hiss softly, his hips thrusting hard against you at the feeling.

Eddie’s lips traveled lower on your neck, down to your collarbone. There he started kissing and nibbling his way all the way across your chest, taking particular care to bite at the hallow of your throat. The feeling of his teeth bearing down on the delicate tendons just under the skin made you gasp, almost yelp even. You could feel Eddie’s lips twist upwards in a grin against your chest.

As he continued to make his way across, the hand on your ass slid lower, caressing down over the curve of the cheek until it was under you. His arm slid under your thighs and lifted you a little. This now put your chest at Eddie’s eye level, and he immediately dove forward for your tits. Holding you there, his lips latched onto one through the fabric of your bikini top. As his tongue swirled around one of your nipples, his free hand slid around from your neck to roughly grasp your breast from underneath.

“Mmm,” you moaned softly, as your back arched forward towards him.

One of your hands went to the back of his neck, steadying yourself as you pushed yourself back down to resume grinding against him. A loud groan erupted from Eddie, his hips thrusting up as he bit down on your nipple, making you gasp. He slowly pulled away, still holding it in his teeth for a second before letting go.

“Now that wasn’t very nice, Princess,” he growled softly, but you could hear the playfulness in his voice.

“You don’t love me because I’m nice,” you said, smirking as you brushed your lips over his.

You felt him smile against your mouth and you softly ran the tip of your tongue over his bottom hip. Eddie shivered at the feeling.

“Good point,” he said softly, his hands moving to rest on your lower back. “But remember, sweetheart, I’m not particularly nice either.”

Eddie quickly brought one hand around to slide it between your bodies, pushing it down between your legs. He began rubbing his open hand back and forth over your mound, his palm gently pressing against your clit with each pass up. Your moaned softly, arching your chest forward, and Eddie slid the hand on your back further upwards to the rest between your shoulder blades. His fingers drifted apart with each pass, letting two fingers lay on either side of your slit to rub outer lips, while he pressed his middle finger down to rub between them.

With each pass of his finger, he stopped just shy of your clit, passing just close enough you could feel how close it, but not quite touching where you most wanted him to. Not until a soft whimper left your lips and your legs started to twitch did he finally oblige and give you want you wanted. He pulled his hand forward, drawing his middle finger up along your slit until he could slowly circle the tip around the sensitive nub.

The combination of the light pressure and the slick material of the bikini rubbing against your most tender areas soon had you quivering in his arms. Unconsciously, your hips started to move in small circles in tandem with the circles Eddie was making on around your clit. It added a new sensation, making his finger alternate between firm and featherlight pressure, teasing you one second then pleasuring you the next.

Your head tilted back again, eyes closed, and Eddie’s lips soon found the side of your neck. When your moans started to grow louder, he moved away from your clit to push his hand back between your legs. He wiggled his fingers past the edge of your bikini to push it aside and sink his middle finger all the way into you.

“Eddie, god,” you moaned, your nails digging into his back, as he slowly started to finger you. “Always feel so good.”

“Yeah?” he asked against your neck, and you nodded as his tongue traced over the purpling skin under his lips. “Love it when you call me your god.”

You moaned in response as he added his ring finger next to his middle and curled them both upwards, hitting just that right spot. Crying out loudly with your head thrown back, you held onto him tightly as your hips thrust forward against his hand. This pushed his fingers deeper and made you gasp.

When he started pushing the heel of his hand against your clit, grinding into it with every inward thrust of his fingers, it didn’t take long for you to come undone. Clenching around his fingers like a vice, you completely let go, screaming Eddie’s name along with incoherent praise.

Eddie continued to finger you through your orgasm, gradually slowing down as you came down from your high. When your moans softened into whimpers and you began squirming, he finally pulled his hand away, only to begin opening the front of his swim trunks.

As you shifted your hips back a bit to give him more room, some advice Deandra had given you came floating up in your memory.

“Remember, make it really good,” she had said. “And make it so damn dirty they’ve got no choice but to go straight to print, no matter how many favors they owe.”

In this brief moment of clarity, you realized that, yes, while this all had been very enjoyable so far, it was rather vanilla compared to what you were used to. It seemed like Eddie was holding back, either from his own nerves or his worries for how you were really doing with all this. He was going to need to get over his hesitation quickly if they really wanted to make headlines.

“Eddie? Baby?” you said softly, dragging the tips of your nails across his upper back. He grunted in response just as you felt his cock come free of his swim trunks. “I don’t think you fingering me and then me riding you with all the good stuff under water is going to cut it.”

Eddie paused for a second, then pulled back a bit to look at you, a mischievous grin on his lips.

“What do you have in mind, Princess?” he asked.

You inclined your head upwards towards the edge of the hot tub.

“Why don’t you hop up there, and I’ll show you,” you said, leaning in for a moment to flick your tongue over his lips.

You pulled yourself out of Eddie’s lap and he lifted himself out of the hot tub to sit right at the edge, his feet resting in the seat. As he did this, you briefly submerged yourself under water, getting yourself completely wet. Eddie watched as you resurfaced, leaning back on one hand, and lazily stroking his cock as you wiped the water out of your face.

It was quite the sight to open your eyes to and you couldn’t help but pause to watch for a few seconds. His grin got even bigger, watching your eyes move up and down in time with his hand and your lips open slightly.

Then you came forward to kneel between his legs on the seat he just vacated. One hand immediately went to his cock to bat his hand away, wrapping your fingers around his hard shaft in their stead. Kissing along his chest, you started working his cock with your hand. You kept a slow pace until your lips were at the base of his shaft, where you then ran your tongue down his full length.

Eddie’s legs twitched and he muttered a soft curse. You shifted your gaze up to see a soft look on his face despite how intently he was watching you. You paused, quirking a brow at him. He brought his other hand over to rest it on your shoulder, giving it a soft, reassuring squeeze before sliding over to the back of your neck. With that last check in complete and permission to continue given, you turned your attention fully to his cock.

After slowly circling your tongue around the tip several times, you took the head of his cock into your mouth. Eddie started to let out a deep groan at the feeling of the warmth and wetness enveloping him, but it changed to a cry of surprise and pleasure as you hollowed out your cheeks to apply a deep suction.

“Fuck!” Eddie cried, his hand letting go of your neck to grip a handful of your hair instead. “S-shit, babe. That’s it. That’s my girl. You know how I like it.”

Indeed, you did, and you needed no further encouragement. You started bobbing your mouth up and down in just the head of his cock, keeping up with the slow rhythm of your hand stroking his shaft. Another low moan left Eddie, and you felt his fingers flexing in your hair. He wasn’t pushing or pulling at you yet, merely holding onto you.

As you increased the speed of your hand, you lowered your mouth down on him a little more with each downstroke. Already you could taste his precum, the tip of his cock leaking on your tongue and coating the roof of your mouth.

Once his cock was halfway in your mouth, you moved your hand away from his shaft and took the rest down your throat in one fast motion.

Eddie gasped loudly, and when you looked up you could see him staring at you in awe, his eyes nearly bugging out of his head.

“H-Holy s-shit,” he groaned before pinching his eyes closed and tilting his head back as his entire body shuddered.

You set a slow and steady rhythm, sliding all but the tip of his cock out of your mouth before taking it all back in again. The sounds Eddie made every time he felt your throat around his cock made your core throb.

After taking him down your throat a couple more times, Eddie’s moans became whimpers, and his hips began to twitch upwards. When that happened, you slid his cock from your mouth, your hand returning to stroke his shaft.

“Wanna do something really dirty?” you asked, batting your eyes up at him before flicking your tongue over the tip of his cock.

Eddie shivered and gasped, his eyes heavy lidded and dilated as he watched you.

“Maybe,” he said, brushing some hair away that had fallen in your face. “What were you thinking abo-“

The sudden halt in his speech was caused by you leaning up towards him just enough that the head of his cock nestled between your tits. You then angled yourself so that the length of his shaft was laying between them.

“Oh f-fuck yes,” he finally said, arching his hips up a little to thrust his wet cock upwards between your tits.

With a smile, you brought your free hand up to the bottom of your bikini top. You pulled it away from your chest just enough that you could easily slip his cock underneath. The new sensation of the wet fabric against one side of his cock and your smooth, warm skin on the other made Eddie groan. It seemed like he didn’t know what to do with his hand suddenly as he watched you with wide eyes, so he moved it behind him to lean on as well.

Shifting your body a little bit more, you got into a better position so it would be a smooth glide. You moved his cock a little bit then tilted your head down, taking a second to gather all the saliva in your mouth to spit it down between your tits and his cock. A stream of curses left Eddie’s mouth as he watched you do it again a moment later, this time directly on to his cock.

“Fucking hell,” he panted, legs twitching as you pushed your tits closer together with your arms, pushing them closer around his cock. “Always so fucking filthy for me, baby, fuck.”

It wasn’t the first time you’d let him fuck your tits. After nearly twenty years together, fifteen of which as lovers, there was very little you two hadn’t done together in bed. But it was one of those things that didn’t happen often, so when it did, Eddie went mad.

And, after fifteen years as lovers, you knew exactly what buttons were left to push before Eddie went absolutely berserk.

“Like that, baby?” you asked, moving your body so he cock began to glide easily between your tits at a steady pace.

“Fuck, baby, I fucking love it,” he groaned deeply.

Eddie’s ass was starting to buck up off the tiled edge of the hot tub. His breathing was becoming erratic, his cheeks turning red as he tried to hold onto himself for as long as he could. Your skin was smeared with precum as it leaked down his shaft. When you looked down and saw this, you paused temporarily and opened your mouth, letting him thrust the head of his cock past your lips so you could gently suck on it, cleaning it off. Eddie gasped loudly at the feel of your mouth around him again and you felt his whole-body twitch.

Suddenly, he completely stopped moving and leaned forward, taking ahold of both of your shoulders in order to push you away, his cock slipping free of your bikini top. You didn’t have time to say anything before he had jumped back in the hot tub with you. He took ahold of you then spun you around, pushing you to the edge of the hot tub so you were bent over it.

While there wasn’t much sense left in Eddie, there was enough to make him be careful of how he angled your body. He made sure to position you in such a way that nothing of yours could be seen or photographed by outside parties. That was his one stipulation to agreeing to this. He didn’t care who saw what of his, but the Full Y/N Experience, as he put it, was for his eyes only.

Once he had the angle right, where a semi side profile of your bodies could be seen, along with a left clear view of your faces, Eddie pulled your bikini bottoms to the side and held them open. Using his free hand, he lined himself up with your entrance and then pushed the head of his cock into you.

You moaned loudly, your hands gripping the side of the hot tub as both of his came up to grip onto your ass cheeks. He lifted them slightly and spread them, watching as he slowly sheathed himself deep inside your aching cunt. The feeling of him bottoming out made your legs tremble, a long moan leaving your throat at the feeling of him being so deep in you.

Eddie gave a couple of slow rolls of his hips, allowing you to properly feel his full length dragging through you. Low, deep moans left your throat, the slow pace making you want more. Soon though, he began to pick up the pace until he was finally slamming himself into you fast and hard.

“Fuck, Eddie!” you screamed, squeezing your eyes closed.

All you could do was hold onto the edge of the hot tub for dear life as he pounded into you from behind. He slid his hands up from your ass to take hold of your waist. He started pulling you backwards into each thrust, the force making you both gasp and moan together. The head of his cock pushed even deep inside you, hitting all your most sensitive inner areas. It wasn’t long before you could feel the coil inside you close to snapping.

“G-gonna cum,” you managed to gasp out.

Your words made Eddie’s thrusting slightly stutter, but not for long. He slid one hand down from your waist back between your legs, his fingers seeking out your clit to circle around it.

“M’close too,” he groaned out as your inner walls twitched around him when he swept the pad of his finger directly over your clit. “Want you to cum around me.”

With three more thrusts, Eddie’s wish came true, and your cunt clamped down around him as you came. The orgasm washed over your body hard, making your legs shake and your knees start to buckle. You screamed, crying out curses and his name in an incoherent mess of words.

The hand on your shoulder left it to grab a handful of your hair, pulling your head back and causing your chest to arch outwards. This also caused your hips to lift, giving Eddie a better angle to fuck straight into you.

He fucked you through your orgasm and wasn’t too far behind you. His thrusting was already growing harder and erratic as you were coming down from your high. The steady grip of your inner walls coaxed him along, and after a few more of those hard, deep thrusts, Eddie began to shoot his cum deep inside you.

“F-fuck!” he cried as his lower body slightly spasmed, the hand on your waist gripping you hard. “That’s it, fuck! Such a good girl for me, Y/N, fuck!”

The stream of cursing and praise that left Eddie’s mouth next was almost unintelligible as yours as he kept fucking you through his orgasm. His hips gradually slowed until he finally came to a stop, leaving his cock still buried in you.

You both were panting, exhausted messes. It took several moments before Eddie could even move in order to pull out of you. You whimpered at the loss of contact when he finally did, the motion making your legs tremble again. After tucking himself into his trunks, he helped you stand up and fix your bottoms, before dropping into seat you just fucked on. He pulled you down into his lap across his thighs, sitting there contently with your arms wrapped around each other.

It took a while before either of you felt like moving, supremely happy to just sit there together. You spoke softly about trivial things, exchanging soft kisses and caresses until the timer on the hot tub went down to zero and it shut itself off. That was your cue to finally go inside. After drying yourselves, the two of you went inside to shower then get ready for bed, both exhausted. Just before you went to sleep, Eddie wondered aloud to you about how long it would take for the photos to get out.

That question was answered barely two days later. Shortly after the nationally aired morning shows began for the day, you and Eddie were woken up by a phone call from Joe, telling you both to get down to his office as soon as possible. The label wanted the band and you assembled for a conference call with the executives.

About an hour later, once you all were assembled around Joe’s desk, he dialed into the labels conference room as he was instructed.

The phone call as brief as possible.

It hadn’t taken long for the photos to be picked up by a major tabloid. While the story hadn’t hit the printers yet, legitimate news outlets caught wind of the story and had already validated its legitimacy. There had only been short blurbs about it so far during the entertainment news, but everyone knew it wasn’t going to take long for the photos to be everywhere.

They were informed that Corroded Coffin’s contract with the label was terminated effective immediately with the upcoming tour cancelled.

They cited a morality clause in one of the subsections of their contract stating any behavior considered immoral or reprehensible by the label from any member of the band would be grounds for label to terminate their agreement with the band as a whole. Since the statement announcing Eddie and Deandra’s pending divorce hadn’t gone public yet, it was a clear-cut case of adultery. There was absolutely no way for the label to spin it into anything else and that created a big problem for the executives.

While they had no interest in continuing their relationship with Corroded Coffin, they assured the band they would not be put their names on any blacklists so that they may find another label to take them on during this next phase of their careers. They predicted that Corroded Coffin would have no trouble finding someone to quickly sign them on.

After wishing everyone well, and reminding you all that your NDAs still wouldn’t expire for years to come, the executives ended the call.

You all listened to the dial tone coming through the speaker phone for a few seconds before Joe finally hit the button to hang up.

Then the guys cheered with joy.

A tremendous feeling of relief washed over everyone in that office. Even Joe, while he didn’t fully approve of you and Eddie’s methods, definitely appreciated the outcome . He was happy to finally have the label out of his hair, too.

While none of you knew whether or not to believe the label executives at first, they held true to their word and did not blacklist the band in the industry. It didn’t take long before other labels started reaching out to Joe, interested in signing them. However, most of the labels he met with were offering deals way too similar to the one the guys just got out of. This time, they wanted to be much more careful. Since they actually had the clout now to be choosier, Joe put potential labels through far more scrutiny on their behalf.

In the meantime, Joe made sure they continued to work and perform, but things were much different now than before. The bigger venues were hard to book without the backing of a label, and the dive bars they started out in were too big of a security risk thanks to their fame. All that really left was the festival circuit and special appearances. But none of you minded though. Every show was much more relaxed than their previous concerts with the label had been, and definitely not as frantic and stressful as touring. The slower pace allowed them to begin recovering from the burnout their old label had pushed them into. Soon they were enjoying performing again. Even the writer’s block Eddie and Gareth had been experiencing started to lift, allowing them to write music again.

It really didn’t take that long to get a new record deal. Not in comparison to how long it took them to get their first deal, at any rate. The wait was worth it though.

A smaller label eventually contacted Joe, interested in signing Corroded Coffin. At first, he was leery of their interest. The label was relatively new, having only been founded within the last five years. They had a handful of artists signed, but none of them particularly famous outside of niche audiences. However, the label desperately wanted to sign them. Corroded Coffin would be their biggest act signed to date and would certainly start to make a name for the label. The label then extended the most generous offer the guys had received so far, allowing them total control over their careers and lives. It was an offer they couldn’t refuse.

Once they were signed, they immediately went into the studio to start recording the new material they all had been working on. Since they had gotten inspired in recent months, there ended up being way more music than they needed for an album. Rather than forcing them to pair it down, the label encouraged them to spread their creative wings and try something new.

This led to the release of a double disc album, “Destruction & Resurrection.” Most of the songs were veiled references to the hell their previous label put them through (Destruction) and taking back control of their lives and careers in the aftermath (Resurrection). It did very well among old fans and new. It rose through the charts quickly after release and soon they went on a very successful tour to promote it.

The difference between the old tours and this new one was obvious from the start. It was much more laid back, and not as hectic with so many guidelines the old label had them follow. They were finally able to enjoy the spotlight, enjoy being on stage together and enjoy all the benefits years of demanding work had yielded without someone else pulling the strings.

Not only that, you and Eddie weren’t having to sneak around in the shadows anymore. Since your relationship had remained public ever since the photos of you two in the hot tub made the news, you never left his side now except for when he was on stage.

But living life in the public eye wasn’t without its drawbacks, especially after a scandal of that magnitude.

The photos of you and Eddie had broken during the fast rise in popularity of internet being used as a way to connect with other people sharing similar interests. Among the discussions you saw about the band, the scandal was wildly talked about. Eddie’s name was once again tarnished for something he didn’t do, but this time you were taking the brunt of the blame. Most people had less than favorable opinions about you. People called you a home wrecker at best and a trailer trash slut at worse. You tried to not let it bother you, tried to not let it get under your skin, but it did at times. With the NDAs still in effect, you were forced to grin and bear it.

Once the latest tour wrapped up, with the labels blessing, Corroded Coffin took an extended break. They weren’t broken up by any means, but like all bands that stay together long term, they had all reached the point where they wanted to live their own separate lives. They wanted to stretch their wings out, rediscover themselves and learn what makes them tick. After so many years of working and traveling together, it was time.

Nick more or less retired from the public eye during this time. He and his wife had their first of four children together shortly after the tour concluded, and he wanted to spend as much time with them as he could.

Outside of having families themselves, Gareth and Jeff started a new project in order to experiment with the nu metal sound that had really become popular. It was fairly successful, featuring both Eddie and Nick on several of the songs.

Eddie and you led a pretty quiet life. Now that you weren’t forced to be shut ins in order to be together, you discovered now you preferred being at home together rather than going out. Outside of the occasional vacation with friends and family, you two spent most of your time at home. Though, one of those vacations did land you two on the front page of the tabloids again when you two were spotted vacationing in the Maldives with Deandra and her fiancée.

When the early 2000’s rolled around, the guys of Corroded Coffin were starting to feel a bit restless. The itch to write and perform together again was creeping in, and they started to talk about if it was time to start working a new album.

Fate decided to step in and give them the nudge they needed.

The producers of a popular horror movie series wanted to use a couple of Corroded Coffin’s songs in the latest movie. They were also asked if they would also write and record a brand-new song for the soundtrack. Since Eddie, you and Jeff were fans of the series, the band happily agreed.

While the movie itself ended up being one of the weaker installments of the series, it still did well enough at the box office to assure another installment. The soundtrack was highly praised and relaunched the name Corroded Coffin to a whole new generation of fans. They went back into the studio to record again.

The success of their following album led to them being approached by VH1 executives with an offer. They wanted to do an episode of Behind the Music on Corroded Coffin detailing their rise to fame, the scandal that resulted in their expulsion from their first label, their reinvention under the new label and the lives they lead now. The offer was thrilling, and everyone readily agreed. There was very little haggling over the script and the questions, which seemed a little odd at first to the producers. Usually there is always something the guests didn’t want to talk about, but everyone seemed perfectly willing to bare it all.

What the producers of VH1 didn’t realize was, all of the NDAs the group signed with the first label had expired the prior year. You and Eddie were done lying and gave everyone your blessing to tell the real story.

It didn’t take long for before VH1 realized what a goldmine they had. As the story unfolded, the entire structure of the episode changed. Instead of presenting them as former hard partying rockers that got knocked down several pegs by the front man’s scandalous love affair, they were presented as a band held prisoner by a former label that controlled everything from to who they dated and what they wore. Everyone interviewed for the episode confirmed every bit of the story, from Joe’s widow Valerie and Diandra herself, to Eddie’s longtime friends Steve Harrington and Dustin Henderson.

Corroded Coffin’s episode of Behind the Music shocked the music world. While everyone was moved by what all the guys went through, hearing about what happened to you and Eddie broke hearts.

As it turns out, the men in suits at that first label had been wrong.

Everyone on the internet agreed. Eddie Munson being with his high school sweetheart for over twenty years, not to mention the lengths that you two went to finally be together, was very fucking metal.

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