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eddiemunsons-missingnipple · 28 days

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Summer breeze

Rockstar!Eddie Munson x fem!Reader

Summary: You and Eddie haven't been around each other in a long time since he's been on tour. When he gets back, he decides to take you on vacation.

Warnings: smut, slight angst, hurt/comfort. Established relationships, unprotected sex, and use of safe word. Mild choking. Aftercare. Eddie is a sweet boy in this. No use of y/n, nicknames used (baby, sweetheart, and good girl)

Word count:3.1k

A/n: Not proofread. Please ignore any mistakes. Divider by me. Please comment and reblog to show support. I'm reposting because some parts were missing.

Somtime early morning in Palm Springs.

You awoke to a nice summer breeze on your skin, and your boyfriends arm slumped over your waist. His mouth slightly opened as he whistled a small snore in your ear. You smile to yourself as you watch the sunrise through the sheer white curtains of your hotel room.

Eddie had just gotten back from a very extended tour with Corroded Coffin. This was the first time both of you were away from each other for months and months on end. Most of the time, he'd fly you out to visit him. Since you started up your own business, that wasn't possible this time round.

The two of you agreed that once the extensive tour was over, you would take time off from your work and go on a little vacation together. A much needed break for the both of you. Eddie made sure you knew how much he missed you. Almost every night for over half a year, he'd call you before bed. Sometimes, you would fall asleep with each other on the other line.

Now, here you finally were snuggled up with him as you watched the sunrise. You wanted to wake him up so bad and begin your day sightseeing or lounging by the pool. You glance over your shoulder at him while he sleeps. His hair is wildly spread across the pillow as his various chains around his neck were all tangled up. He looked so peaceful that you couldn't wake him just yet. This was probably the first time he actually slept through the night since leaving on tour.

Carefully removing his arm from your waist and easing yourself out of bed. Tip toeing to the bathroom as you did but not before almost tripping on his discarded jeans next to the bed. Quickly looking up at him, you curse quietly to yourself. He's still sprawled out on the bed, snoring away, or so you thought.

"Hey, where are you going?" His low raspy voice calls out for you. You giggled at his sleepy voice that he hates so much.

His eyes are still heavy from sleep, and his hair is even wilder than you thought. He lets out a low groan as he stretches. His joints popping loudly

"I'm just going to get ready." Shaking his had he pulls the covers back slapping the mattress.

"Nuh uh c'mere." He motioned for you to get back in bed. a boyish grin spreading across his face. You can't even see his eyes from the mess of his bangs hanging lower than last time you saw him.

You thought about it for a moment and decided to rejoin him in bed. You ran and jumped back under the covers, laughing while he wrapped his arms around your body.

The pair of you missed being cuddled up in eachothers arms. This vacation is going to be two weeks long, and there is plenty of time to explore your surroundings. Staying in bed for a few more hours wouldn't kill you.

Around 1 p.m., your alarm rang.

You woke up again to the cool breeze on your skin. Only this time, you were alone, no sight of Eddie anywhere. Frowning, you remembered he did have a few meetings he had to do on your first couple of days here. Not knowing how long they would be. You gaze at his pillow, seeing a tiny daisy left there for you with a little note.

"I'm sorry I couldn't be there to see you wake up. I have some business to take care of. then after I'm all yours. - Eddie."

You smiled, reading the note and smelling the flower he left for you. You hurriedly got out of bed. you decided maybe visiting the hotel pool would be a nice way to relax until he got back. You ran and put on your bikini, packing your tote back with the essentials you'll need.

Spending the next couple of hours down by the pool lounging got boring after a while. You tried reading and listening to your Walkman. Nothing seemed to help cure it. The only thing on your mind was Eddie.

How you missed the way he would hold you. His dumb jokes he'd wake you up in the middle of the night to tell you. You missed his smell and how soft his lips were against your skin. How he carefully took his time with you. The way he'd make you cum over and over again. You needed him. That longing feeling taking over you has become too overwhelming. Nearly to the point you're on the verge of tears.

You just want him. All of him.

Jumping up from the beach chair, you hurriedly make your way back to the hotel room. You practically run through the lobby to the elevator, hoping he's there by now. Much to your surprise, he is, and a sigh escapes your mouth when you see him. He's standing by the couch in the living area, taking a puff of his cigarette. He notices you staring at him and smirks before looking you up and down.

Licking his lips, "Hey baby, what you been up to?" His voice low and sultry.

"Just waiting for you to get back, so I decided to go to the pool." You pointed over your shoulder.

He hums as he takes another drag of his cigarette. There is so much sexual tension growing thicker between you two. The way he keeps looking you up and down while he smokes, practically eye fucking you. You try to make small talk with him, but he just keeps staring you down. Almost like a predator hunting for its prey. The thought sends a shiver of excitement down your spine.

"C'mere baby." He motions for over for you to come closer.

You do as you're told and go to him. He bites his lower lip and puts out the rest of his cigarette. He pulls you in even closer to him and wraps his arms around your middle. Bringing his hands down to your ass, squeezing softly, giving it a light few taps.

"When did you get this little thing?" He took one of his hands away from your ass to tug at your bikini top.

You look down, "I've always had it."

"Hmm, have you?" Eddie eyebrows raised in amusement. His playful tapping turning into a harsher grip.

All you could do was nod, feeling the wetness pooling between your legs.

Eddie leans down closer to your ear.You bite your lower lip and gasp when you feel him grip your ass painfully tighter. You grasp onto his shoulders for leverage, trying not to stumble as you're practically on your tip toes now. You let out a small whimper, and he loosens his grip on you. Eddie hooks a finger under your chin, making you look up at him. His eyes blown out with lust.

"Lets go to bed." His voice is deep and husky by your ear.

Nodding your head again slowly as your mind struggles to form any words.

You swallow dryly. "Okay."

Eddie takes you by the hand and leads you to the bedroom. The sun is setting now, giving it a nice orange glow. You stand before him as he gazes down at you. You look up at him, waiting for his next move.

He reaches behind you and pulls the strings to your bikini top slowly, letting it fall to the floor. Your nipples harden instantly as the cool air hits them. You move your arms to cover yourself, but he stops you.

"Don't hide from me." Eddie gently commanded.

You listen, moving your arms back down. He goes to undo your bikini bottoms, letting them fall to the floor with your top.

He mumbled rubbing his hard cock over his jeans, "You're so goddamm sexy."

Eddie sits back on the bed, bringing you to straddle him. Your lips instantly attacking his in a feverish kiss. He tastes like cigarettes and mint. you can almost cry at how much you've missed his taste. You begin grinding against him, your clit rubbing on his prominent buldge straining in his jeans. Rubbing yourself on him back and forth, a moan escapes your lips. You've been waiting so long to have him, and now he's here. Removing his mouth from yours, he kisses down your jaw and neck.

"I need you, now." Your voice is coming out much needier than you expected.

"Lay back for me, sweetheart." His husky voice mumbled against your throat. "Be a good girl."

You look at him, licking your lips."I'm always your good girl."

"You sure are, baby." He chuckled at your response, knowing how much you loved it when he called you that."You suuuuure are." He drawls.

Eddie didn't hesitate after that. Hearing you beg for him made his cock rock hard. he couldn't wait to bury it deep inside you. He quickly strips himself of every piece of clothing he had on. His cock springing free when yanks down his boxers. You move up closer to the headboard, laying back against the soft pillows. He makes his way up the bed, crawling his way to you.

He settles himself in between your legs, and you spread them open wider for him. He strokes his cock up and down a few times, pumping it lazily. Your breathing becomes heavy with anticipation. His cock has always been intimidatingly big. Eddie always made sure to get you nice and warmed up before taking him. This time, though, he didn't do much of that. There was no foreplay. you didn't mind it at first. Since you were both so desperate to have one another. Your lust and desires clouding your judgments.

"Eddie, please, I need you inside me." You kept begging him.

He bit his lip, muttering something under his breath. "Fuck, I really have missed you baby."

He looks up at you through his lashes and without warning he's lines his cock at your entrance thrusting all the way inside you. You let high-pitched moan and squeeze your eyes shut tight. Eddie doesn't stay still for long he grabs your hips harshly and begins pulling almost all the way out and slamming back into you.

Your mind going foggy as Eddie's cock splits you open. He's thrusting into you harder and faster. His hips slapping into yours roughly. You grip his biceps, digging your nails into his skin. Your pussy is making a loud squelching noise as he pumped his harder cock in and out of you. Your slicks dripping down your ass and soaking his length.

"S-so fu-cking tight," He grunted, throwing his head back as he plunged his cock harder in your pussy.

"... And wet–Jesus christ, you're making a mess on me."

Your back arches up "Mmmfph – eddie," you moan. "Don't stop."

The tip of his cock rubbing against your g spot the deeper he pushes inside you. You were moaning and writhing underneath him. Calling out his name every time slammed back into you. Every plunge of his cock felt like he was going in deeper. Your bodies slapping together

After a while, your pleasure was starting to feel more like pain. His movements were only getting rougher, and he didn't seem to be slowing down anytime soon. There was a slight stinging sensation between your legs, which was becoming more prominent.

Your breathing became heavier as anxiety started taking over. Eddie, without thinking, put his hand to your throat squeezingly only lightly to your pressure points. Tears prickled your eyes as you tried your best to ignore the growing pain between your legs.

You didn't want to use your safe word, but in this situation, it just wasn't feeling good anymore. You've never used it before and were scared to it, even though Eddie has always encouraged you to if it became too much. The bed rocking against the wall harder made you aware of how fast he was really going, — you wouldn't be surprised if there was damage done or if the bed broke. Looking up at him, he doesn't really seem to be focusing on much of anything else, but how good you feel. His eyes squeezed shut, and his mouth hanging open. His cheeks flushed pink. His hips slammed into yours at a bruising pace.

You felt guilty for doing this, but you have no other choice. His thrusts are becoming too overwhelming for your liking, and his hand on your throat is now squeezing just a tad bit harder. Your moans were now chokes and quiet sobs. He didn't even notice. Eddie was too caught up in how good your walls felt clenching around him.

"Eddie." You whimpered quiely, but he didn't hear you.

"Oh fuck I'm gonna cum." He managed to groan out.

"r-red," you quiely choked out, but he kept pumping into you. His hips smacking into yours as he only sped up even more. Chasing his own high, assuming you were getting close too. You started to panic, and the pain was getting worse now. Your anxiety kicking into overdrive.

"RED!!!" Your voice manged to scream out, and Eddie haulted his movements instantly. His face falls. His eyes are full of worry as he removes his hand from your throat immediately. Carefully and gently, he pulls out, causing you to hiss at the sting. He winced seeing the pain on your face.

"Baby, what's wrong?"— "Are you okay?"Talk to me, please."He was pleading with you to just talk to him. Tell him anything at this point. There was so much concern in his tone.

All he cared about was knowing if you were alright.

Eddie voice rang in your ears over and over again. Finally, you let out a sob covering your face with your hands. You felt embarrassed and ashamed. Eddie, on the other hand, was trying his best to soothe you. He goes to move your hands from your face, but you slap them away. You refuse to look at him, turning your body from him. Your reactions to his care were purely instinctual. You know he'd never go out of his way to cause you pain like this on purpose.

He just sits there desperately wanting to tend to you but also terrified to touch you. You laid there crying, trying to calm down and get your breathing under control. You take a deep breath and sit up, bringing the blanket to cover yourself.

"What's wrong? You gotta tell me!" Eddie urged with so much panic in his voice. He was trying to keep it together, knowing you needed him more right now.

"It hurt....i-it was too much." You stammered, swallowing the lump in your throat. You turned on your back keeping yourself under the blankets.

Eddie hesitantly goes to wipe away the tears from your face. You don't flinch or smack his hands away this time. He let out a shakey breath before speaking again. He couldn't believe he didn't notice you weren't enjoying yourself. Your small whimpers of pain replay in his head now, making him feel like such a bad boyfriend. How could he possibly not have noticed his girl was in pain? The thought has him wanting to be sick.

"I'm so so sorry I didn't mean to you hurt you." His voice cracks as he fights back tears of his own. "What do you need from me, baby?"

"It's okay. I'm okay." You reassured him, but he shakes his head.

"No you're not...I'm so fucking horrible." He said running a hand down his face and through his hair.

"You're not horrible, Eddie. we both just got too caught up."

"I'm so sorry." He repeated again, bringing your hands to his mouth as he kissed them.

"Please forgive me sweetheart you know I'd never harm you in this or any way ever."

"I know it's okay. We should just take it slow like we usually do." Your hand goes up to caress his face. A small smile slowly appeared on his lips. He took your palm, giving it a gentle kiss of reassurance.

"I should have taken my time with you, baby." Eddie sighed deeply, still riddled with guilt.

You wiped away the last remaining tears from your eyes. "I just– I need that warm-up, you know?"

"Yeah." He cleared his throat. He understands where you're coming from. Eddie was selfish earlier, and for that, you paid the price.

God, he still can't get your voice yelling your safe word from his mind. He wanted to break down and bawl his eyes out. He wanted to wait on your hand and foot until he was for sure you were completely fine.

There was a long calming silence in the room now. Eddie was trying to figure out what to do next. He, let's go of your hands and brought you in for a hug. He lets out a breath of relief that you're not pulling away from him.

"Wanna cuddle?" He pulled back to look at you and examine your neck where his hand used to be. You reached up, brushing back his bangs.

"Can we?" Your face lighting up.

"I'll do whatever you want me to." He moves to curl up next to you and shuts off one of the lamps on the table. He wraps you up nice and tight in your blanket. "Did you want to order room service and watch something funny?"

You wiggled around in his hold, getting yourself comfortable. "Only if you order me the biggest burger on the menu."

"Ahh, a giant burger it is, and maybe something sweet too?" Eddie leaned over to kiss your temple.

"Definitely want that too...and I want to watch something spooky not funny." You grinned over your shoulder at him.

He shook his head. "Alright, alright, ginormous burger, ice cream, and a horror movie." Eddie pauses for a second, rubbing your side in a soothing way, "anything else you might want?"

"Nope, that's all." You teased, reaching around to pinch his side. He laughed and jerked away.

"Wait! and cuddles." You added lastly.

The sun has finally set, and the room is now covered in darkness except for the TV playing a scary movie of your choosing. Your food is sitting on a tray across your laps. Every other second, he stopped eating to ask if you're really okay. To which you reminded him you're fine and you were just overwhelmed earlier.

Eventually, he stopped asking and opted to cuddle you close to him. He didn't ever want you to feel unsafe with him. The nice summer breeze blows on your skin as Eddie holds you tight against him. Your vacation may have started off on a bad foot, but Eddie was determined to make it up to you.

"I love you, sweetheart." He whispered in your ear, giving your cheek a loving kiss. "You're always safe with me."

"I love you too."

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cacoetheswriting · 3 months

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honesty: the music video

pairing: rockstar!eddie munson x popstar!fem!reader word count: 2.3k summary: after a long day on set, you can't wait to get it on with your costar.

content warnings: 18+, minors dni: mature themes, literally smut with a minor plot, established relationship, unprotected p in v, overstimulation, praise kink, dom-ish eddie, adult language, heavy use of pet names, mentions of aftercare — if i missed anything in this chapter, pls let me know!

celebrity skin. masterlist <- part of this lil' universe, but can totally be read as a stand-alone. timeline wise, this takes place somewhere after part 3 and before end part 5.

“We want it to be sexy.”

“But not too sexy.”

“Revealing.”

“But not too revealing.”

“Sounds like you guys don’t know what you want,” Eddie chimes in, interrupting the back and forth of your respective teams.

You stifle a giggle.

“That’s ‘cause of the two distinct styles,” someone from your team clarifies, “We wanna be respectful.”

“For sure,” one of the creatives on the Corroded Coffin side agrees. There’s a short pause. “We will have you two kiss at the end, though.”

At that, Eddie smirks. He looks at you from across the table and you could just about melt right there, blood rushing to your face, warming your cheeks.

“That won’t be a problem,” he says confidently and winks.

Honesty was a guaranteed hit. Top of the charts. Everybody that’s been so far involved in the project said it. They praised it. From the bass, drums, to the guitar and vocals. The production value was off the scale. A dream arrangement that would stand the test of time.

All the song needed was a music video equally as captivating.

A back and forth discourse began shortly after you first started recording with the band: whose style should the clip resemble more?

Corroded Coffin screamed all things dark, maybe a little gory. Their usual expression featured slightly melancholy undertones and a lot of references to all things Dungeons & Dragons. Imaginative, for sure. An artistry that had rarely been seen in the genre.

Although it’s been an artistry vastly different from yours.

The glitter hadn’t necessarily been your idea, but it certainly became a signature of sorts. Anything sparkly, always. And music videos that told a story. Most often one of love since that’s what you idolised ever since you were a kid — it obviously helped that love also sold millions of copies.

Eddie’s team argued that it’s the band’s song and you’re just a feature, therefore the accompanying video should lean into their style. Your management team was hesitant to agree. Calculating risk in case the lines get blurred a little too much and your pristine image shifts to the opposite end of the spectrum. Hours of arguments. Hours of negotiations. None of which you, or the rockstar were even mildly aware of. Too lost in each other's eyes and soft cotton sheets.

Eventually, a compromise, of sorts, was found.

Ernest Hemingway’s The Killers influenced, in part, a 1946 film noir of the same title, with Ava Gardner and Burt Lancaster taking the lead. The movie, in turn, inspired the black and white music video.

Done up in flair of the characters, Kitty Collins and Ole Anderson (aka Swede), you recreated iconic scenes alongside the brown-eyed rockstar. The rest of the band was also dressed to the nines. Side characters that played their instruments in the background of main shots. They blended in well, while adding a unique spin to the known story.

Overall, the Honesty shoot quickly became a big spectacle. Bigger than anything Eddie Munson and his band of closest friends has ever been lucky enough to be a part of.

Intricate sets. Glamourous. In front of cameras and bright lights, you and your scene partner, Eddie, mouthed along the lyrics to the song as if they were a script. And with every scene, as if the two of you were the only people actually there, no equipment and no crew, you got lost a tiny bit. Lost in the chocolate of the rockstar’s wide gaze. In the way he smelled. The style of that decade suited the brunette greatly, so you became lost in how he looked in this character. Dapper. Unlike you’ve ever witnessed him before. He committed to the role too. A certain swag in his movements. How he touched you so hesitantly, delicately because that’s what the video required.

By the end of the night, after the director yells, “Cut!” to signalise a wrap, a round of applause for all involved in this project, you’re feeling hot and bothered. Sweaty, though not because you just completed a full day’s work. No. Somehow, you found the Corroded Coffin frontman even more attractive than at the start of that day — something you didn’t think was possible. When you glance in his direction, he’s already staring you down, and you know he feels the same way.

Backstage, inside your trailer, you’re sitting cross-legged on the couch. Fingertips at your lips as you wait for that inevitable knock on your door. You know it’s only a matter of time considering the build up of tension throughout the shoot. From the lingering touches and that kiss the director had you two repeat over and over and over…

Logically, you could wait until the two of you were home. Back at Eddie’s Hidden Hills mansion, away from prying eyes and ears. In a bed that’s become all too familiar. Far from possible interruptions. Logic however, well, right now, logic was taking a back burner ‘cause you needed him now. Desperately. And without a doubt, Eddie needed you too.

A knock. Then again. But the rockstar doesn’t wait for you to answer. He lets himself in.

“What happened to the wig?” You ask, raising a brow.

“It was itchy,” he replies with a slight laugh, then shakes his head. “I much prefer my natural locks.”

“That’s too bad,” you say with a slight shrug, “You looked quite smart with that short hair.”

Eddie hangs his head with a smile, though his eyes don’t leave yours. Not even for a second. That’s when you notice the glimmer. That look, the reason he’s here, just like you predicted. So you return the expression. Only yours is a little more sly. Tempting him. Teasing.

“I had fun today.”.

“Me too.”

There’s a lot that happens in the seconds after you stand up. A lot that happens quickly.

Eddie reaches for your wrist, pulling you closer before wrapping his, for once, ringless hand around yours completely. He presses it to the middle of his chest, holding it against his heart. You can feel it beating and that’s enough to make you melt ‘cause it’s strong and you swear it skips at the contact. His other hand reaches for the base of your throat. He holds it gently, caressing upwards until he’s gripping your jaw.

“Kissing you in front of all those other people kinda got me going,” he admits in a low tone.

Naughty, that’s what you want to say, but you don’t get the chance ‘cause his lips crash into yours. Hungry. Desperate. Rough. Heat rushes through your body at the sudden contact, no different than any other time his mouth found yours. You’re at his mercy, always, and he knows it well.

His tongue glides along your top lip and you part your lips to accept him without hesitation. He wastes no time sliding into your mouth, letting this tongue work in tandem with yours as he tilts his head to further deepen the kiss. The hand holding yours lets go, instead finding home on the small of your back, pushing you as close to him as humanly possible. His other hand lets go of your jaw, albeit not completely. Ghosting along the side of your neck before you feel him wrap it around your throat, squeezing lightly. It’s nothing new for Eddie to be a little rougher with you, but there’s something about this moment, after a full day of moderate teasing and borderline foreplay, that causes a moan to burst through you when he squeezes again, only harder.

The rockstar pulls back, sporting a devilish grin. “Making such pretty noises for me and we haven’t even gotten to the best part.”

“Do your worst, Eds.” It’s a dare. Nothing sweet about it.

He smirks at the challenge and before you can register what exactly is happening, Eddie is lifting you up swiftly, hiking up your dress in the process, only to drop you down onto the sofa with a gentle thud. You’re wide-eyed as he unbuckles his belt with one hand, the other tugging at the pantyhose the wardrobe lady had you wear for the last scene of the video. He partially rips them off of you, then he hikes his index finger along the band of your underwear, eagerly pulling them down your legs until they’re wrapped around your ankles, with the reminisce of your stockings.

“The heels stay on,” the rockstar instructs, pushing your legs apart with force and positioning himself in between. All you can do is nod. Half-naked, half in costume. Same as him.

In the space of a heartbeat, his lips are on yours again. This time they don’t stay for long, instead moving downwards towards your chest. When he squeezes your breast through the silk material of your dress, he compliments how fucking good you looked, “I wanted to ravish you the second I saw you, baby.”

You whimper at his words, and at the fact that his now freed cock is gently brushing against your wet folds. Not quite breaching, just teasing you further. Only adding to the overall stimulation.

“God, you’re so fucking hot. So fucking pretty. And all mine.” Eddie’s breathing into your bare chest ‘cause somehow in the moment your dress has slipped down ever so slightly and your tits made an appearance. Fingers from one hand are digging into your hip, holding you in place, while the other has you by the ribs. Thumb brushing your soft skin while his hot mouth is sucking on your hardened nipple.

Your eyes are closed. You’re not sure when you closed them. He’s invading your senses all at once. Just when you feel like you can’t take it anymore, when you want to whither and plead for him to touch you where you need him most, Eddie plunges himself into you without warning and your eyes snap open.

“Oh God…” he groans, drawing his hips back only to slam them in again, making your body bounce against him. “Fuck, baby. Jesus.”

You sob in pleasure as Eddie knocks the wind out of you with each relentless thrust, still increasing his speed. Heavy panting and grunting fills the trailer, along with the sounds of where his cock slams against your sweet juices. He’s sitting straight now. Eyes are fixated on the mess you’re both making, where his length disappears in and out of you, while you admire the way his locks fall naturally in place. Although briefly, ‘cause you’re arching your back the next second, rolling your eyes to the back of your head when he hits that sweet spot.

“So. Fucking. Pretty.” He growls. “You’re so fucking pretty when you’re all stretched open like this, sweetheart. Your pussy was made for my cock, baby. You take it so well. You take this big dick so well, my good girl. Fucking made for me. Ain’t that right, dollface?”

“Made for you, Eds.” You just about whisper back, nodding your head feverishly.

Slap. His hand makes contact with your thigh and you practically wail. “That’s right,” he praises, “Made for me. So fucking tight for me.” Slap. Slap. Slap.

Eddie’s cock starts to swell. You can feel it expand inside of you, then again when he thrusts back in. It has you heaving. The speed he’s established is close to becoming a little too much for the two of you and he drops his weight slightly, allowing you to wrap your arms around him, nails digging into his bare back. He can sense that you too are close and he’s trying hard to hold back, make this moment last longer, but his body refuses to slow down. Chasing the way your glistening pussy chokes his length.

“Where do you want me baby?”

“Inside,” you croak out. “Cum in me, Eddie. Please. I need you to fill me up.”

“M’mph—” He chokes out, movements growing more and more erratic. The whole trailer is shaking at this point, that’s what it feels like to the two of you anyway. “Everybody out there will know what a good little slut you are. Not that innocent. Wanting me to fill you full of my cum, fuck.”

Slap. Slap. Against your thigh.

“Please, Eddie.”

Slap.

“Shh… I’ll give you what you want, sweetheart.” He coos, “Gonna pump you full. Gonna make you see stars while my cum drips out of you.”

That’s when you shatter around him, uncontrollable desperate squeals making him groan louder as he continues. It’s sloppy, messy, and once you’ve completely unravelled underneath him, the rockstar can’t contain himself any longer. He lets out a broken moan as ropes and ropes of his warm spend start to throb into your hole.

His body gives up at the last spur and he drops flat on top of you, although not without a loose kiss placed to your jaw. His cock remains inside of your pussy. You can feel it pulsing until, after a few minutes, it no longer matches the beat of your heart.

Eddie lifts himself then. He kisses you softly and you smile against his mouth. When he eventually slips out and stands, he tells you not to move, that he’ll grab a towel from the small trailer bathroom and will help you get cleaned up.

“Wardrobe is going to kill us,” you call after him, balancing on your elbows as you sit up slowly. “Pretty sure these clothes can never be worn again. Purely for the fact that they reek of sex.”

“At least your wig stayed in place,” Eddie points out lightheartedly when he returns, his pants once again buckled, a towel in his hand. “That’s something the hair and makeup team should be proud of.”

“I’ll be sure to tell them,” you say, meaning it as a joke ‘cause there’s no way you would ever admit to what sins the two of you just committed.

Eddie smirks. “Pretty sure they already know,” he says as if it’s no big deal, “We weren’t exactly quiet, sweetheart.”

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celebrity skin. masterlist | the killers (1946) reference

& the celebrity skin. taglist: @eviethetheatrefreak , @thirddeadlysin , @haylaansmi , @nope-thanks , @tlclick73 , @vintagehellfire , @ashlynnkennedy , @avalon-wolf , @sidthedollface2 , @astheni-a , @bebe07011 , @aysheashea , @papillonoirsworld , @vol2eddie , @spideyanakin-interacts , @rogers-sweatbands , @mimsie95 , @mmunson86 , @eddiesguitarskills - (if your user is crossed out, it means the tag isn’t working. pls check you’ve enabled tagging in your settings)

#this one is a little self indulgent ngl #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson filth #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x fem!reader smut #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #rockstar!eddie munson #rockstar!eddie x reader #rockstar!eddie smut #stranger things #stranger things smut #celebrity skin.

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eddiesxangel · 10 months

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“Eddie please I can’t” you’re almost crying at how frustrated you are. You want to cum, you need to cum but you just can’t! Eddie is holding the vibrator to you like it’s his last mission on earth. “You can and you will” his words were firm but gentle.

You’d told him earlier in the night you’ve never been able to cum by the hand of someone else and he was going to fix that if it was the last thing he did.

“Please Eddie… I just… it’s not working” you were squirming. Embarrassed at how long it’s been and how much you wanted this. Your clit was almost numb. The build would happen and then it would disappear again.

“Come on sweetheart, you’re too in your head” Eddie removed the vibrator and leaned down to kiss your neck, light pecks but then he started sucking that one spot.

“Mmmph daddy please” it had slipped out, almost a whisper and before you knew what was happening Eddie’s demeanour flipped.

“Ohhhh I see baby, you just need someone to take care of you don’t you?” He pouts, “Don’t worry Daddy’s got you.” He stroked you face and moved back down to your wet pussy.

“Now baby, look at you, I know you can do this, you’re so wet for me baby you’re already half way there.” He grinned up at you, almost patronizing.

You nod your head pathetically.

Eddie started kissing down your inner thigh, making his way to your dripping core. He gave a small kitten lick to your clit to test the waters. Your body squirmed again at his touch. “Oh baby you’ve been so neglected. Don’t worry I’ll take care you you.” He didn’t break eye contact with your clit. He gently rubbed small circles hitting it each time. Your hips gyrated as he worked his hand.

“How are you feeling baby, use your words”

“It feels so good eddie but… more” you whine.

“More what?” His voice firmer.

“Please daddy I need you, harder”

“Good girl”

An involuntary moan was released from your throat at his words.

“Come on baby, you can be my good girl” he slipped in a finger, than another. He slowly started pumping them until he got a good rhythm going in coordination with his thumb circling your clit.

“Please I need more I can’t” it just wasn’t enough.

This wasn’t the plan. Eddie was never supppse to be here, seeing you like this. You hardly even spoke about sex with one another, never mind having him 3 fingers deep inside you. Maybe it was the weed, maybe it was the way he offered his bed because he didn’t want you driving home at 1:00am after a night out together. But here you were in his apartment, spread open for him like a book he couldn’t stop reading.

“More?” He raised his brows at you.

You pause and think about what exactly you’re asking of him. You bite your lip and nod slowly.

“Please Daddy. I need it so bad” it was official you’re in the subbiest space you’ve ever been in. A tear rolled down your cheek.

Eddie kissed it away and nodded his head. You looked to him as he stroked his already hard cock. You weren’t even thinking about how this situation was affecting him. Biting your lip in anticipation, shirt already off, he pulled down his pyjama pants exposing himself to you. Your eyes grow wide, sure you’ve thought of what it would look like but you weren’t expecting this. Thick and long, you instinctively reach out to touch him, he punches you back down on the bed.

“You let me know if you want to stop, ok? I mean it. The second you feel uncomfortable tell me, your safe word is Red” you silently nod again. “No sweetheart use your words” his tone firm. “Yes Eddie, I will say Red if I want you to stop.” You whisper. “That’s my good girl” and just like that you were back to grinding your hips for any sense of release.

“I have an idea. Flip over, ass up” you do as you’re told. You feel the anticipation waiting for him to enter you. You think maybe he’s getting a condom, but he knows you’re on birth control and all you hear is a whisper “beautiful” he says under his breath.

“Daddy please” Eddie breaks out of his trance after your word snap him back into reality, seeing you wiggle your ass for him. Finally he grips each globe of your ass in each hand and slides his cock into your dripping pussy. The sound that came out if your mouth as he entered you almost had Eddie cumming right then and there. This was your favourite position, Eddie hit your spot on every stroke.

The bed frame hitting the wall, the moaning coming out of your mouth the grunting Eddie had been letting out, it was rough, it was good, but not good enough. “Please give it to me Daddy!!” he thrusts we’re harder and harder. “That’s it, be a good girl, cum for daddy.” He gritted through his teeth. “More please” you were crying, pleading with him.

He reached over the bed, for what? you don’t know, too cockdrunk to think you don’t even hear the buzzing until you feel it on your clit. Your hands were gripping the bed sheets so hard your knuckles were hurting. The vibrations pulsing through you and you had to scream into the pillow to muffle the sounds.

“Yes!”You could feel the sensation building and building, for once it wasn’t going away. Your head pressed into the matress, Eddie gripping your left hip for dear life you’re sure there will be bruises where his fingers are, his right hand gripping the vibrator not letting it leave your clit.

“DON’T STOP PLEASE” you beg him. He didn’t slow down he keeps pounding into you. The feeling was building more and more, it was so good, you couldn’t help it. “Come on baby, I can feel it, you’re getting tighter, come for me, cum for your Daddy.” His words were what broke your dam, a silent scream caught in your throat. Your body trembled beneath him. Spasming beneath him as he road out your orgasm, not stopping. The feeling was so intense, you’ve never cum this hard before, it was becoming so intense, you’re over stimulated. You reach back for Eddie to grab on to something, anything. You find his wrist beg him to stop. It was too good, “please I can’t no more” “oh little baby can’t take anymore, you were begging for more, I’m giving you more” he kept pounding into you, until your second orgasm built up again. You cried out from the pleasure. He finally released the vibrator from your clit, it was so hot to the touch. Eddie pulled out and unloaded on your ass.

After a few minutes of silent recovery only the sounds of both your heavy panting Eddie broke the silence “holy shit” Eddie got up to get a wet cloth to clean you up. He softly padded back to the room, you’re still laying face down with a stupid smile on your face. “Thank you Eddie” you sighed. “Any time sweetheart. I’ll gladly do that again” you giggled softly and yawned. “Get some sleep baby” he stroked your hair and you fell asleep in seconds.

Wow this one really got away from me, it was suppose to be a paragraph 🫣🫢

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lostalioth · 7 months

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𝐥𝐢𝐩𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬

→ premise: your his band manager he shouldn’t be thinking about those gorgeous red lips wrapped around his dick, but you and that stupid lipstick drive him crazy.

→ pairing: rockstar!eddie x fem!band manager!reader

→ warnings: smut [18+], PURE SMUT, oral [m receiving], eddie has a prince albert piercing, male masturbation described, reader is described to wear red lipstick a lot bit that’s the only physical description, slight dub-con? reader just starts sucking him off, nicknames [pretty girl, baby], VERY slight praise

→ a/n: this is only my second time writing eddie so I hope its not horrible anyway enjoy loves!

You and that stupid dark red lipstick that damn lipstick that drives Eddie mad. You’re his band manager, he wasn’t supposed to think of you this way, he wasn't supposed to fantasize about how pretty those red lips would look wrapped around his cock, his pants shouldn’t tighten whenever he watches you talk or lecture his other band members for being reckless. He shouldn’t wonder about the way your tongue would feel running along the underside of his shaft. He shouldn’t think about the way your throat would tighten around his cock when his hips buck up and hit the back of your throat. The idea of his swollen tip and your spit coating his cock as tears brim in your eyes makes his stomach stir.

The thought of those stupid red beautiful lips sucking him off and your doe eyes staring up at him haunt his dreams even. It is what led him to be spread out on his bunk at the back of the tour bus, his cock in hand, pumping hard, head thrown back in immense pleasure, his thoughts of you often cloud his head and lead him to this scenario more frequently than he cared to account for.

His fist tightens around his shaft as he strokes his cock, his spit acting as lube to allow his hand to slide easily and fast around his dick. He couldn’t hold back his groans and grunts of your name slipping past his lips as his hips buck up into his fist.

“Oh fuck just like that baby, suck that cock pretty girl fucccckk” he groaned as he grips onto the sheets under him with his free hand, the pressure and pleasure building in his stomach. He paid no mind to how loud he was being, the tour bus was empty, the rest of his band mates and you having gone off to lunch. He had faked being too tired cause the minute he saw you in that signature dark red lipstick, his head went hazy and all he could think of was it smeared across your face as he fucked up into your thorat. His thoughts wondered as it always did and he couldn’t ignore the torturous ache in his cock.

“Hey Ed’s, you rested up?? We got that band meeting in a bit, you ready–“ your voice breaks his train of thought and is suddening booming in his ears as you brush through the door leading to the sleeping quarters just as your name rolls off his tongue, his voice heavy with want and hand frozen still wrapped tightly around his shaft. Your own voice suddenly caught in your throat and your sentence cut off.

His whole body tenses at your presence, he knew you heard his loud grunt of your name, there was no way you didn't. Your eyes widen as you take in his state, eyes slowly and painfully scanning his body. Chest heaving as sweat trails down his forehead making his long black curls stick to it, lips parted and his hand wrapped around the base of his thick cock. The tip of his dick swollen and bright red, that's when you see it your eyes catch on something shiny. A small sliver curved bar through his leaking tip, a Prince Albert piercing. A small lustful gasp leaves your mouth making eddies cock twitch.

“Fuck..” you whine, thighs clenching and eyes glued to the jewerly decorating his cock. Your feet are guiding you subconsciously closer before you register your own actions. Eddie's hand never seems to leave his dick as his whole body is frozen, he didn't know what reaction to accept but you coming closer wasn’t it whatsoever. He felt as though time was moving in slow motion as you slowly walked closer, he hadn’t even noticed you closed the door behind you. He watches with wide eyes as you begin to sink to your knees in front of him. “What- what are you- oh fuck” he can barely finish his statement before your mouth is wrapped around the tip of his cock. The cold metal bar of his piercing running over your tounge.

“Just shut up Ed’s” you mumble with a small smirk.he is nodding frantically in response before his head falls back, eyes shut tight trying his best to determine if this was real or not. If this was a dream it was a damn good one he never wanted to wake from.

“Mmmm.. Fuck baby” he groans as his hand finally unwraps from his cock and slips through your hair as your mouth sinks further down his shaft, taking as much as you could of him in your mouth.

His head felt foggy, he couldn’t believe he was finally feeling your mouth on him. It felt heavenly better than he could’ve ever imagined. He opened his eyes to watch the way those velvet red lips that were the center of all his fantasies sank down on his twitching cock finally sucking him off. He nearly keels over as your tongue darts out and slides up and down the veins on the underside of his straining cock, he was already very close to the edge from his own hand earlier but finally feeling your mouth on him made him almost immediately tip right over that edge. Your lipstick has begun to smear and coat his cock leaving dark red stains all over his shaft. He never wants the sight of that to ever leave his memory.

“God fuck, look at you taking all of my cock baby just like a good girl” he moans and softly bucks his hips as you sink your mouth down completely to the hilt of his cock.

You hum and moan around his cock as his throbbing tip hits the back of your throat as well as his piercing causing you to gag softly. He groans as your nails grip and scratch at his thighs to brace yourself as his hips speed up the thrusting. The knot in the pit of his stomach tightens to its brink and he holds your cheek stroking it softly.

“Fuck, pretty girl im gonna cum, can i-can i cum in your mouth?” He questioned, his voice suddenly laced with nervousness, he felt slightly embarrassed at how fast he was becoming undone simply from your mouth. You hum enthusiastically around his cock in response and he smiles before blurting out thank you over and over as releases deep in your mouth. His hot seed sliding down your throat as you swallow it all.

“Oh fuck…” he groans as he chuckles softly still trying to process what happened. With a small smile you slowly slide your mouth off his cock, that was now covered in smears of your lipstick, even his piercing having red smears on it. You lean up grab his chin causing his brows to furrow in confusion before you start to kiss all over his face. Leaving perfect dark red lip prints all over, before hopping back to your feet and standing up straight you give Eddie a small peck on the lips with a giggle.

“Wipe that off before your show tonight and you’ll never have my mouth on you again, meeting in 5!” You giggle and disappear out of the tour bus with a huge smile on your face before Eddie has time to process it all, lipstick still smeared on your face and faded.

Eddie simply lays there star struck, staring down at his lipstick stained cock dumbfounded as to if that was simply the most realistic fantasy he’s ever had or real, the dark red lipstick stains covering his face and cock however are his wonderful reminder that it was very much real and he couldn’t wait for it to happen again.

→ a/n: rockstar!eddie has to be my favorite au of eddie and him being pierced?!?! OMG?!?! anyway I hope you all enjoyed i wrote this late at night and started to get delirious so I hope there aren’t too many mistakes lol.

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blueywrites · 1 year

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I Will Wait

a soulmate!fakemarriage!au with rockstar!eddie and personalassistant!reader (also featuring ronance)

cowritten by @abibliophobiaa, @blue-mossbird, @breddiemunson, @myosotisa, and @fracturedarkness

18+ only for mature themes and eventual sexual content. fem!reader, alcohol consumption

three (15.3k) | next | masterlist | AO3 | 🎵 shmackin' tunes

in this universe, there is no upside down, the year is 1995, and corroded coffin = nine inch nails. enjoy! 🐝

The next few months are an absolute whirlwind. Corroded Coffin was in the last legs of producing their new album when you were hired, meaning the period of time when they were gearing up for the debut was just getting started. Photoshoots, interviews, preparing press releases, scheduling future appearances, and a million other things all seemed to be happening at once.

In addition to being the middleman between Eddie and the powers that be, which mostly consisted of Steve sending you constant emails of new appointments, you also were quick to learn some of the other expectations that comes along with being a PA for a celebrity. Mainly: house work.

At first you had thought they were fucking with you when Eddie mentioned that he needed you to come to his brownstone in the morning to do his laundry. As it turns out, he was both completely serious and incredibly amused with your ignorance of all the things you had technically signed up to do for him by taking this position. So you found yourself letting yourself into the Munson brownstone in Greenwich Village a few times a week to do menial tasks for your client.

Today, you’d walked in around 10am, much to Eddie’s displeasure, and were greeted with a bag full of laundry thrown at your feet. “Good morning to you too, Eddie,” you offer, albeit a bit dryly as you place your pocketbook on one of the stools at the kitchen island. “Did the maid I hired not get around to laundry this week?”

“Fired her.” Eddie sounds way too chipper for this time of day, and you can only guess it’s because of his smug smile as he forces you into doing things you’ve tried to work around. “Kept looking at my underwear weird; thought she was gonna sell it or something.”

Not believing it for a second, you still give him a tight smile. “I’m sure. I’ll work on finding another maid to clean the brownstone. Again.”

“You do that!” He calls over his shoulder as he walks further into the bright and airy kitchen. In his black sweatpants and bleach-stained tank top, he looks completely at odds with his own home. It sometimes makes you wonder if his wife, Robin, picked everything out or if they had just gotten a designer to come in and make it like a show home. The first floor is beautifully decorated but stale, like no one actually lives there. It gets a bit more personal as you ascend but it still seems strange to have a home feel so disconnected. “Oh—” he looks back over as you lift the bag of laundry into your arms with a huff, “I have a pair of silk boxers in there that need to be hand washed, so don’t even think about putting them in the machine. And, uh… don’t worry about the stains.”

Oh, how you wish you could smack the cheeky grin off his face sometimes. You mumble an acknowledgement as you carry the bag through the first floor and past the kitchen, passing through an open door frame that leads into the laundry/mud room. Sorting lights and darks, despite the very intense lack of white articles that need to be cleaned, you start shoving black fabric after black fabric into the top load washing machine. When the tips of your fingers brush silk, your teeth clench tight together as you clutch it in your fist and throw it towards the deep sink a few feet away.

Once the machine is started, you walk back over to where the bundle of black silk now rests at the bottom of the plastic basin. Upon first examination, there are no suspicious ‘stains’ to be seen, but you still don’t trust it. Pinching one of the hems between your fingernails, you lift it up to eye level to inspect further, wanting to know exactly what you’re getting into before you get started.

The french door behind you pulls open with a stream of sunlight and a brush of floral perfumed air. Still holding the offending garment between your fingertips, you spin toward where Robin has just entered the mud room, a pair of sunglasses perched on her nose and a book in her hand. “Uh…” Her hand slowly drops from the door handle, a smile stretching across her face as her eyebrows raise. “Whatcha doin’?”

Embarrassment wells up to warm your face, which you assume was Eddie’s goal all along, while you give Robin a tense smile. “Eddie fired the maid again. Said his silk underwear needed to be ‘hand-washed’.”

Robin’s sigh is one of long-suffering acceptance as she crosses over to you, grabs the boxers, and throws them into the running washing machine. “He’s fucking with you; you know how he is.” The sunglasses are pushed up into her hair so she can fix you with her blue-eyed stare. “You can just… push back a little. Don’t let him walk all over you.”

“It’s my job to—”

“Your job is not to just do whatever the fuck he tells you to do. Like, hiring the maid was a good move. He probably would’ve had you over here everyday dusting his little trophies if you hadn’t outsmarted him.” Her smile is warm, almost like she’s proud. “Your job is to make sure he can do his job. That’s all.”

Since meeting Robin 3 months ago, she has been nothing but sweet and kind to you. Despite being your client’s wife, she very often put herself in your corner, facing off against some of Eddie’s more unreasonable requests. While you don’t necessarily need her intervention, it still is nice to have sometimes. Her reassurance has your tension easing, a deep breath expanding your lungs in slight relief. “Thank you, Robin.”

“No prob,” she taps the cover of her paperback against your bicep as she moves past you and out into the kitchen. “Eddie!”

You follow her through the entry just in time to see Eddie spinning toward her shout, an open gallon of milk in his hand and a white stain on his upper lip. “Hey Rob, what’s the move?”

“God, Munson, you’re so fucking gross.” She pushes his shoulder out of her way to reach into the fridge and pull out a decanter of orange juice. “Remind me to never drink the milk in this house again.”

He sets the jug on the kitchen island and leans on his elbow to keep himself in her sideview, a cheeky grin lighting up his face. “And you married me anyway.”

“Don’t remind me,” she groans, although it betrays a certain level of amusement with her husband as she places her palm on his forehead and pushes him away again. Watching the easy interaction of their back and forth, always acting more like best friends than a more formal married couple, has a pang twisting in your chest. You can only hope for such an easy and comfortable relationship with your soulmate one day.

Two days later, you’re once again standing in the Munson brownstone in the early hours of the morning. Or, Eddie’s version of early, which happens to be anytime before noon. You hadn’t had time to find another cleaning service yet so you were elbows deep in the sink in their kitchen, bright yellow silicon gloves protecting your hands from the hot, soapy water as you washed bowls and coffee cups.

Eddie appears at the bottom of the stairs, yawning loudly as he stretches his arms skyward, shirt lifting to show a peek at the ink beneath. You pay him no mind as you continue your methodical cleaning of ceramics, keeping your eyes down even when he walks right up beside you and leans on the counter. Fully content to ignore him until your task is done, you can’t help but startle away when his fingertips ghost against your temple, pushing the hair back.

“What are you doing?” You finally glance over at him, your voice pitching up a bit in surprise. His smile is mischievous, eyes shining in the light, leaning over further to rest his chin on his fist.

“Oh, I was just fixing it for you. Your hands are wet and soapy.”

Exhaling through your nose, you go back to focusing on scrubbing the burnt eggs from the bottom of a frying pan. Over the last month or so, Eddie has gone from barely tolerating your existence and trying to make your life miserable, to being very pleased with your existence so he can continue to push the envelope on making your life miserable. It has become more and more like a game for him – testing the boundaries on what you will tolerate. Both what you will do for him and how much he can flirt with you until you get terse.

After a moment of awkward silence, at least on your end, you move to break the tension. “We should go over your schedule for today.”

He gives an exaggerated sigh, turning to lean both arms back on the counter beside you. “If we have to.”

“Your stylist asked you to be on site by 10am so they would have time to get you ready before the photographers arrived.” You’re barely halfway through your sentence before Eddie is groaning, sinking a bit lower onto his elbows. Mustering a flat look, you turn your head in his direction. “Why are you pouting?”

“I forgot the fucking photoshoot was today.” A ringless hand comes up to rub at the side of his face, still a bit swollen from sleep. “The only thing worse is those stupid press interviews.”

You turn back to the soap filled bowl in your gloved hands to hide your smile. “Good thing that’s not today. The interview is later this week.” Eddie’s reaction is instantaneous and dramatic – he moans in outrage as he slides all the way down to the floor beside you, leaning over to lightly hit his forehead against the side of your outer thigh over and over.

“I swear, it’s like you hate me,” his voice is muffled from below, face directed down. “You hate me when I have been nothing but nice to you.”

An amused snort leaves you against your will at the idea. His head whips back to look up at you in surprise and you barely manage to school your expression in time. “It’s not personal, Eddie. I’m just doing my job.”

“Speaking of your job,” he picks himself up off the floor in a less-than-graceful fashion, his sweatpants running much lower as he rises. You keep your eyes in the sink as you wipe down the last coffee mug left and pretend you aren’t seeing him adjust the fabric around his groin. “I need you to walk my lizard today.”

Halfway through removing the stopper from the sink to drain the used water, you freeze with your forearm still in the slowly lowering water. “Excuse me?”

He’s leaning on his elbow again, a smug smile on his face as he watches your reactions. “My lizard. You know, the one upstairs?” You make a noise of acknowledgement that you know what lizard he’s referring to. “He needs to be walked once a week. Specifically on sunny days. Normally around noon when the sun is highest, so he gets the most of the heat, y’know?”

You feel your eyebrows drawing together in confusion, trying to think back to what you know about lizards. Which, admittedly, is not much. Still, needing to walk a lizard sounds incorrect. You’ve never seen someone walking around with their lizard on a leash. You’re about to start to question him more when you catch sight of his expression. He has his lips drawn in between his teeth, his eyes pinched tight as he tries not to laugh. “... You’re fucking with me.” The laugh escapes as a bark, his palm slapping down on the counter beside you as it echoes out into the high ceilings of the brownstone. “You almost fell for it too!”

Bristling in annoyance and just a little bit of embarrassment, you take a deep breath and hang the damp gloves over the edge of the now-empty sink to dry. “I think it’s time for you to get ready to leave.”

His mirth dies down fast, his head rolling back to sigh at the ceiling. “But, and here’s the thing right, I really don’t want to go.” You make another noncommittal noise, not looking to encourage his antics right now. Neck rolling toward you, that cheeky grin that you’ve come to loathe is back. “Beg me and I’ll do it.”

Another exhale out of your nose to remain calm, you weigh your options. If you beg, you are playing into his games and encouraging antics like this. But, you also get the result you want faster. If you refuse, you are technically standing your ground, but could end up with a bigger fight to try to get him ready and out the door in time. Deciding to play his game, you give him the flattest expression you’re capable of. “Will you please get ready to leave for your photoshoot?”

This time the sigh he lets out is satisfied, his shoulders falling and eyes closing in what looks like relief. When his eyes meet yours again, they’re accompanied by a lazy smile. “Love when you say please.” He taps the tip of your nose, shocking you still, as he turns back toward the stairs. “I’ll be ready in no time!”

He is not ready in no time.

You’re standing at the bottom of the stairs at 10:10am and have still not seen head nor tail of Eddie since he traipsed back up. The car outside has already honked twice, letting you know it’s waiting, but you wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt. “Eddie, we’re already late!” Your voice echoes through the multi-floor space, definitely loud enough for him to hear, but you get no response. Patience running thin, you raise your voice again. “Eddie!”

You finally hear him reply, voice far off. “I got stuck in my pants, maybe you should come up and help me!”

Pressing your fingertips to your brow bone hard enough to pull the skin of your eyelid, you call back, “If you’re struggling to put your own pants on, I should probably call a medical professional.”

The soles of now-familiar boots appear at the top of the tall staircase, your eyes trailing up their occupant as he begins to slowly lumber his way down the stairs. He’s in his usual attire. Scuffed Doc Martens, a pair of black jeans stretched tight over his endless thighs, leather jacket fitted against his frame, those chunky rings adorning his fingers. Around his neck he wears multiple silver chains of varying sizes, dipping low into the collar of his shirt. “Y’know you could stand to be a little more fun.”

You remain firm, arms crossed as you wait for him to hit the final step. “I don’t think I understand your version of fun.” He blows a raspberry in your direction as he crosses the foyer to start shoving things into the already-tight pockets of his jeans. “We’re already late, and that means we are just delaying further when we can get to your preferred portion of the day at the studio.”

He meets your eyes through the mirror before him. Both of you showing an attempt at nonchalance. “I swear, sometimes when you talk it’s like a fly buzzing around my head and I just,” he swats once, “can’t,” twice, “get it,” three times, “to stop.”

“Maybe you should get better aim,” you offer coolly as you cross behind him to hold open the front door, hoping to get him to finally walk through it. “Or, better yet, you should consider actually listening to me instead of letting it go in one ear and out the other.”

“But it's like a buzzing little bee in my ear. Gets so annoying whenever you’re droning on and on about responsibilities and my to do list and shit.” He walks past you as he continues his rant, bouncing down the small set of stairs leading to street level. You’ve just turned back from locking the door when he whirls on you. “Maybe if you wore something a little more easy on the eyes, I’d be able to focus more on what comes out of your mouth.”

When you grit your teeth, his grin only grows, backing up towards the black sedan waiting for you both. Your voice is a thinly veiled warning when you start to say, “Eddie –”

“Careful, little Bee,” he opens the door, lifting a boot to rest on the frame. “If you get too aggressive, you’ll lose your stinger for good.” Then he falls into the darkened car, leaving the door open and sliding across so you can get in next to him. With no other option, you stomp down your frustration and climb in after him.

You’re not sure what to expect as the car pulls up in front of an abandoned warehouse out on Long Island. At first glance, it’s a dilapidated looking hole in the wall. From where you’re sitting, you can see the rusted metal roofing, the smashed in windows, exposed beams standing erect to hold up the exterior of the building. You knew the team intended for a grungier, broken down scene to represent the lyrics of the band’s latest album portraying a man’s downfall; however, you hardly anticipated something such as this in the seemingly middle of nowhere.

�� Eddie’s knee spreads further right from where he sits next to you, jean-clad thigh brushing yours ever so softly. Your head shifts to take him in, gaze trailing instantaneously to where you’re connected, stamping down the feeling that wells up and lingers behind your ribs with every fleeting moment such as this. His amber eyes are shrouded behind a pair of sunglasses today, tattooed hand nearest to you sprawled over his bent kneecap. There’s a thought burgeoning in his gaze, ever present before he ever even opens his mouth to speak out his reluctant drawl of, “Guess it’s now or never.”

The two of you slide out the car in unison on opposite sides of the respective vehicle, winding around the exterior and meeting to join in the center of the uneven, grassy ground. His lip quirks upward as he takes in the sight of you like a newborn doe on heels that insist on sinking into the ground, head tipping your way in the only acknowledgement of your presence you’ll likely receive. Inside, you’re immediately greeted by rusted over conveyor belts in the center of the room. There are steel beam stairs leading to an upper deck overlooking the central portion of the interior. To your left is the wall least eaten away by rust throughout the years, silver metal spanning from floor to ceiling, with endless lights positioned around the edges of the parameters to illuminate the set.

Your head tips to Eddie, standing there disinterested as ever, head tipping up to the sky, visible through the broken up ceiling. Like this, you can see every dark wave of hair that dances along the leather of his jacket, the ridges on the column of his pale throat, the tattoos that creep up high along the neckline of his collar, hinting at intricate detailing beneath. And then that left hand settles over the bridge of his sunglasses and pushes them upward, the glint of his wedding ring catching in your field of view, and you set your gaze on the glowing set before you as you edge closer to your destination.

The room itself is bustling. People shift and mill about the warehouse, carrying various pallets and crates in hand and positioning them strategically around the room in order to create impactful angles for the intended photos. Workers chat amongst themselves with cameras draped around their necks, clipboards in hand as they mark down a list of tasks you’re not privy to. Once nearer to the group, a woman comes barreling over in a flurry of movement. She’s gorgeous. Deep russet skin, dark hair styled to perfection, a tape measure over her shoulder, and a pair of leather pants curled over a forearm. You catch the glint of her artful gold hoops in either of her ears and the bright makeup covering her eyelids. You admire the rips in her jeans and the fabric of her oversized hoodie as she tuts audibly and glares Eddie’s way. You assume this isn’t the first time Eddie’s run behind schedule, try as you might to get him there as close to on time as possible.

“You’re late!” She admonishes, hand dropping to a popped out hip. For the first time since you’ve been working for Eddie, you catch the slight drop in his steely facade. It’s barely noticeable, just the slightest downturn of his lips, but you capture it all the same, knowing this woman intimidates him in a way no one else seems capable of doing so. She turns to you then, flashing you a megawatt smile. “Erica. Erica Sinclair. I’m Corroded Coffin’s stylist. I’m sure you tried your very best to get him here on time, but you see Edward wouldn’t be Edward if he wasn’t late to everything.”

“Fashionably late, Sinclair.” She glances him up and down, clearly unimpressed by his excuse, and curls a hand around his shoulder.

“Says the man who would wear the same ugly ass Hellfire shirt to every fitting when I first started working with you all. It’s a miracle by my own doing that you know how to dress yourself now. Come on, the team is already paying for your lateness,” she says, and without another word your way, she ushers him to a trailer standing just outside of the warehouse, where you anticipate the rest of the band to be readying for their photoshoot within.

You’re left to stand in the back of the warehouse, trying to keep out of the way of those working around you. With a low sigh, you wander over to the furthest wall covered in sheet metal and broken in windows, looking out into the grassy landscape. A bird flits on by, drawing your attention, just as a voice sounds from behind you. Jolting, you whirl on the heel and spot none other than Steve himself, and beside him, a man you’ve yet to meet before.

The man’s bearded face is twisted in a scowl as he shouts into his brick of a cell phone. He’s gesticulating wildly, dark curls bouncing with every angry movement. You can only catch snippets of his impassioned rant, but you’ve gathered enough to know that he does not suffer fools gladly.

Steve stands awkwardly beside the man, wincing on occasion at his booming voice. The scene is not entirely inviting, but you have no choice but to approach when Steve’s gaze catches yours. His face lights up in recognition, and he waves his hand to beckon you near. As you approach, Steve steps forward and briefly pats your upper back in greeting.

“Glad to see you made it! I want to introduce you to our band manager, Murray Bauman.” Steve motions you over with a warm smile until another shrill taunt from the man in question has him flinching away. “But let’s just give him a minute, shall we?” You agree politely and turn with Steve to observe Murray closing out his phone conversation.

“I don’t care how busy you are, get it done TODAY!” Murray’s barking demand echoes throughout the warehouse, and you stare as he rips the phone from his ear and takes out his frustrations by repeatedly smashing the end call button. He lets out an annoyed breath before pushing his wireframe glasses back up the bridge of his nose.

“Fair warning, he can be… bold.” Steve whispers this warning for your ears only. Just another hothead for the collection, you snort to yourself. You deal with Eddie Munson on a daily basis. How much worse could Murray Bauman be? Steve walks ahead of you to serve as the bridge during introductions. Before Steve can offer an explanation, Murray’s annoyed face takes in your approach with suspicion.

“Who are you? Harrington, why are you bringing this person to bother me?” Murray interrogates you immediately. He regards you skeptically, assessing whether you are worth his time or attention.

“Murray, this is the assistant I was telling you about,” Steve explains, offering your name as he beckons you forward. “You know, the one who is currently working with Eddie.”

“You mean the one you forced me to hire?”

Steve casts a furtive glance your way before his gaze whips back to Murray, the stare holding weight as he replies, “She’s lasted four months, Murray.”

Murray looks back flatly as Steve tries to impress some knowledge upon him with a combination of wide hazel eyes and bushy brows. Behind his wireframe glasses, Murray squints. “Four months?” He replies skeptically, and Steve nods slowly.

“Four months,” he enunciates slowly, and you watch the men communicate through shifting facial expressions: Steve’s eyes implore Murray to be civil, while Murray appears exasperated by the prospect of niceties. Eventually, Murray lets out a groan before forcing his face into a perfunctory smile.

“It’s so nice to meet you,” Murray offers, insincerity lacing his every word. His dark eyes cut to Steve as if to ask - happy now? All at once, his mask crumbles and he returns to his brash self. “Do me a favor, yeah? Keep Munson in line. I’d prefer to not clean up any more of his messes.”

“I’ll do my best, sir,” you reply. “It’s very nice to mee–”

“What the hell are you wearing?” Murray sounds appalled, disgust written all over his face. His question makes you stutter to a stop. You look down at your outfit and see nothing untoward - white blouse, black cardigan, plaid pleated skirt, dark tights, and chunky heels. It’s simple and professional. It’s safe. Or so you thought. Confused, you look back up to see that Murray isn’t making eye contact with you. Instead, he’s glaring at something or someone behind you. That’s when you register the sound of heavy boots thudding your way. You turn to see who has inspired such a visceral reaction from Murray, but instinctively you know who you’ll find.

Eddie.

He strides toward you with Erica by his side. She looks proud of her work, and you can’t blame her. Eddie looks… well, he looks hot. To put it bluntly. Erica has given Eddie a monochrome look that’s enhanced by different textures and accessories. His black suit is striking with its satin lapels and tailored fit. The suit jacket is unbuttoned, revealing the pièce de résistance - a mesh top that leaves little to the imagination.

“You look ridiculous! Where’s the rest of your shirt?” Murray’s question is directed at Eddie, but his scowl is aimed straight at Erica. Any other person would have withered under the intensity of his glower, but Erica seems emboldened by it.

“Where’s the rest of your hair?!” Erica counters without a moment's hesitation, arms crossed in defiance. “Leave the dressing to the experts. Seriously, Murray. You look like a sad, middle-aged hack going through a divorce.”

“Oh, spare me, Sinclair.”

Erica and Murray’s jibes muddle with Steve’s pleas to stop, eventually fading into background noise as you observe the man standing before you.

You have to hand it to Erica - it’s a daring look. The mesh hugs Eddie’s torso in a way that flatters his lithe frame and provides just enough of a glimpse of his tattoos to captivate any onlooker. His pale skin is heavily decorated in ink, and you can’t help but try deciphering what you’re seeing through the mesh. Eddie’s collection of tattoos seems to pay homage to his love of music and fantasy. On his left side, you spy an unusual string instrument with the word bard etched underneath. Just below that, you see artwork of a dagger with a blade made of uniquely shaped dice. By his right ribcage, Eddie has a tattoo of a mighty dragon with wings poised for flight. The dragon’s claws seemingly tear into the supple skin of Eddie’s toned abdomen. You follow the dragon’s scales down, down, down until its tail disappears beneath Eddie’s suit trousers - along with a little patch of sparse hair below his navel.

I wonder where that tattoo ends. The thought jolts you back to reality. This is your client— your very married client— whose wife has been nothing but kind to you. The guilt and shame overwhelm you.

You become very aware that you’re still ogling Eddie’s body, and your eyes race upwards to find a more appropriate location to settle. Unfortunately, your retreat to safety is foiled by the glimmer of metal you spot by Eddie’s nipples. You feel flustered by the sudden warmth blossoming within you. Eddie Munson has his nipples pierced. You had been too distracted by his tapestry of tattoos to notice them at first, but now you’ll never be able to forget that the piercings exist. Great going, you think to yourself, you try to avoid staring at your client's happy trail only to stare at his nipple piercings instead. Well done, very professional.

To your horror, Eddie has caught you staring. He sports a look of faux disappointment with his plump lips pushed into a pout. His tattooed hand points to his face, and he teases, “Tsk, tsk, little Bee. My eyes are up here.”

Your mind races to find a suitable excuse for your staring, or better yet, a way to deny it happened in the first place. Eddie is looking at you like he’s a spider that has caught you in his web, and you break eye contact to save some face. It ends up being the wrong decision because your mortification only deepens when you realize that Murray and Steve have witnessed Eddie’s accusation. Erica has long since departed after her verbal sparring match with Murray. Without her there to act as the target for his irritation, Murray is now laser-focused on you and Eddie. “Hmm… that’s interesting,” he observes, his head tilting to the side in curiosity.

“What’s interesting?” Steve asks.

“Keep up, Harrington,” Murray offers no explanation and instead dodges Steve’s question with a dismissive wave of his hand. Steve places his hands on his hips looking utterly bewildered. He goes to speak again, but Murray beats him to the punch. “So, Munson… I hear that your assistant has lasted four months working with you. Is that right?”

Murray’s inquiry has an instant effect on Eddie’s body language. His playful pouting has dissipated, and his stance now appears guarded. He crosses his arms over his chest— over the distracting nipple piercings, thank god— as he eyes his band manager cautiously. “... why do you ask?”

“Oh, no reason at all. Just curious,” Murray replies nonchalantly. “You must be getting along.” You don’t know Murray well at all. However, you do know Eddie well enough to take his weariness as a signal that things could soon become uncomfortable.

“I haven’t scared her off, yet. If that’s what you mean,” Eddie scoffs. “But don’t worry, I’m still working on it.” It’s a classic Eddie move - making a joke of something to avoid showing any hint of being rattled. He throws a coquettish grin in your direction, which does not go unnoticed by Murray. Steve looks uneasy, as if this conversation will upset whatever balance you’ve struck with Eddie.

“I sure hope she isn’t stroking your ego too much.” Murray’s tone is blasé, but his implication is clear. “And you better not be giving her a mouthful.” Steve can no longer stand idly by now that he has finally caught onto what Murray found so intriguing. He swoops in to intervene by physically placing himself between Eddie and Murray.

“Well this has been fantastic,” Steve forces a laugh out and runs a shaky hand through his brown locks. “Murray, let’s continue that chat about merch, yeah?” He is practically vibrating with nervous energy as he tries encouraging Murray to move.

Allowing himself to be led away, Murray offers a farewell over his shoulder, “Good luck, kid. If you need anything, anything at all, do not contact me. Bother Harrington instead.” At the mention of his name, Steve turns briefly to mouth I’m sorry as the pair exit.

Mind spinning off kilter from everything that occurred in the last few minutes, you turn yourself back toward Eddie for a sense of stability. Since when is Eddie something constant in your life? You find a very tense-looking man. The muscles in his jaw are pulled tight as he glares at the spot once occupied by Murray. The moment ends quickly as if he can feel your eyes on him. Eddie annoyingly seems to have gained a sixth sense for knowing when you’re staring. His crossed arms fall along with the seriousness of his expression, hands tucking into his front pockets. The action only causes his pants to inch lower and, for a split second, your eyes are instinctively drawn to the patch of skin now on show.

My eyes are up here.

The echo in your brain rings out and has your glance jumping back up in horror. Eddie watches every movement and his lips pull between his teeth again, the same face he made this morning when he was trying not to laugh. All you can offer in defense is rolling your shoulders back to look taller and making your gaze sharper, daring him to say something. He lifts his hands in surrender, his lips popping out into a self-satisfied smile as he turns on his heel and saunters back toward the set, whistling all the while. You begrudgingly follow after him.

Eddie’s pace is unhurried as he drags his feet in a clear display of apathy. You spot the rest of the band gathered around a petite woman speaking animatedly and pointing to various spots on the set. She’s captivating with her high cheekbones, loose brunette waves, and eyes like the ocean. Those eyes narrow upon seeing Eddie’s dawdling.

“Look who finally decided to grace us with his presence,” she chides. “We’ve been waiting on you. Hurry it up.”

“Hello to you, too, Wheeler. I didn’t realize you were so excited to see me. I’d hate to disappoint a fan,” Eddie teases with a roguish grin wide across his face. Much to your surprise, he picks up his pace and joins the others in listening to Nancy— whose first name you learn indirectly, thanks to Eddie’s habit of calling everyone by their last names— detail the aim of today’s photoshoot. She explains that the media team will be experimenting with several looks in order to use the photos for both album promotion and touring purposes.

Eddie turns to you as Nancy begins guiding the others to their spots on set. “Enjoy the show. You sure seemed to earlier.” He winks and turns on his heel to join the others.

Deny! Deflect! Do something!

“I was only admiring Erica’s work! It had nothing to do with you.” You can see Eddie’s shoulders shaking with laughter, and you know he’s not convinced. To be fair, you haven’t convinced yourself either. It sounds weak even to your ears, like a last-ditch effort to save your dignity. Feeling defeated, you slump over to the chairs lining the wall where you can watch the photoshoot concealed behind the photography equipment.

Two hours pass and the band is still preoccupied with taking pictures. You watch as they’re pushed and pulled into different poses and settings. The process feels overall repetitive, but Nancy does her best to keep energy levels high. She directs the photographers to get solo shots, which leads to hilarious chaos as the band hypes each other up behind the camera. “Yeah, Harry! Rock out with your Cox out!”

Despite the momentary amusement, you find yourself mostly bored watching from the sidelines. You’re both surprised and grateful when you see a familiar face enter the set. Robin peers around at the flurry of activity before making her way over to you.

“Finally some good company,” you breathe out in relief. Robin is delightful to be around, and you mean it when you share your appreciation for her presence. She gives you a sympathetic look before taking a seat beside you.

“These things can take forever,” she commiserates. “But Nancy will keep them on track. Don’t worry. They’re lucky to have her. She’s brilliant.” Her husky voice sounds especially warm with adoration.

Just as Robin said, Nancy is brilliant in her precise and methodical approach. She directs the crew in adjusting the lights and backdrops with ease. Her critical eye allows her to observe each shot and offer valuable posing guidance. It’s impressive to watch someone be so in her element.

You and Robin sit together and make small talk until there’s a break for a set and wardrobe change. Robin excuses herself and makes her way over to Nancy. You notice Nancy’s focused demeanor melt into one of warmth upon Robin's approach, and the sight of their friendly affection for one another brings a smile to your face. Quite honestly, it makes you miss your friends; you’ve been so busy since starting this job that you haven’t found much time to see them.

Eddie walks past the pair on his way to meet Erica, briefling nodding at his wife in acknowledgement. He stops abruptly and looks around at the crowded set before swiveling back to face them.

“Hey Wheeler, did Robin tell you she’s getting new headshots done for her upcoming play?” he asks. “Do you mind giving her some pointers while we break?”

Nancy brightens at the suggestion, “That’s a great idea. I’d be happy to help!”

“Why don’t you two go somewhere private? I don’t want all these people leering at my sexy wife when she’s posing.” Eddie winks at Robin, who whispers a quiet ‘thank you’ before leaving with Nancy. You’re touched by what you’ve just witnessed. Eddie is actually a supportive and loving husband. The longing hits you unexpectedly. When will it be my turn? Soulmate, where are you?

It’s exhausting to pine for someone you haven’t met yet. You have all of this love to give without a person to receive it and reciprocate. It feels aimless, like being adrift in the dark ocean with no light to guide you home. You’re too lost in your yearning to notice that Eddie has returned and is standing beside your chair.

“Everything okay, Bee?” The question physically jolts you from surprise. You wait for the inevitable teasing from Eddie about catching you off guard. Instead, you look up to find Eddie eyeing you closely. Whatever he sees in you in that moment must cause him concern. His brow is furrowed, and there’s an unexpected tenderness in his gaze.

“Uh, yeah. Sorry, I got distracted by my thoughts.”

“Well, that’s no good. What did I tell you this morning about having more fun?” Eddie hold his hand out for you to take, and he gently coaxes you to stand. His calloused hands feel rough against your gentleness, but you find it comforting. Once upright, he drops your hand and offers out his arm out as a replacement. “Come on, I’ve got just the idea to break you out of your shell.”

The two of you walk side by side comfortably, and Eddie guides you to where the band and Nancy have reconvened. The guys are looking up at one of the warehouse walls in deep observation. You squint your eyes, searching for something on the wall that might be drawing their attention. Having no success, you look back to the band and realize they’re each holding something. Are those spray paint cans? Your ears perk up at the sound of rattling as Gareth shakes the can he’s holding. Yeah, definitely spray paint. You send a quizzical look Eddie’s way.

“Murray thought we needed some more edgy photos. He suggested we graffiti the wall for the next set,” he explains. “Wheeler was all worried about it, but… Murray knows best.” He mutters the last part bitterly, shaking his head with distaste. “He might actually be right about this, though.” Eddie steps forward, breaking your linked arms, and snags two spray paint cans from the ground. He holds one out to you, his face alight with mischief.

You look around self consciously, noting that Steve and Murray are both within view. You fidget nervously and contemplate whether you can let your hair down while on the job. No one else appears to be partaking; only the band members have been given spray paint. “Are you sure about this? I think it’s just meant for you all.”

Eddie throws his head back with an exaggerated groan. “Come on! Live a little.” He snaps out of his dramatics when he hears the sound of hissing fill the air from the spray paint cans in use. Gareth, Jeff, and Harry have already begun doodling on the wall without him. “See?! We’re missing out on the fun because you’re overthinking.”

He extends the can out to you once more, gently nudging you to partake. He grins widely when you take the simple black paint from him reluctantly. You can do this. Show him you’re not always so uptight.

You slowly approach the wall and think about what to paint. You need to show him that you can have fun and keep up with his jokes. The idea comes to you easily, and you get to work on your masterpiece. It’s a simple piece that only takes a few minutes for you to prepare. .

Eddie is intently focused on drawing a large, crimson devil’s face, and you need to wave to get his attention. When his eyes meet yours, you point to your painting and await his reaction. Previously blank, the wall now sports the image of a humble bumblebee. The bee has two basic stripes, fluttering wings, and most importantly - a stinger. Eddie’s warning from this morning is fresh on your mind. If you get too aggressive, you’ll lose your stinger for good.

Your artistic choice has the intended effect, and Eddie lets out a hearty laugh. He smiles at you, and those brown eyes crinkle at the corners with joy. He looks proud, and it stirs something unexpected inside of you. You find that you like pleasing him.

“Atta girl.”

You suppress a shiver that the hum of his voice conjures despite the flippancy of his words.

That photoshoot, though chaotic in and of itself, somehow ended up becoming the calm before the storm for you. A demarcation point beyond which your days became filled with the relentless pursuit of planning a multi-month tour for a moderately famous industrial metal band. Days that had previously been spent ushering Eddie around to meetings with some semblance of timeliness and bringing him snacks when he gets cranky are now consumed by filling a thickening manilla envelope with neat documents, each marked with your precise handwriting as you plan and record each aspect of the trip logistics: contacting venues as per Steve’s direction, managing their hospitality riders, tracking expenses and budgeting for food and accommodations, as well as other minutiae that, frankly, has begun to make that vein throbbing in your neck a near constant companion by the end of the workday. The hours feel long, longer than they do when you’re trying to wrangle Eddie; though the days aren’t physically taxing as you spend them holed up at a desk fitted snugly into the closet you’d reorganized, they are mentally exhausting as those dates, dollar amounts, and contact names begin to tangle up in your head. You spill them out onto your trusty desk calendar, collecting them there as you stretch the strands and detangle them in order to begin weaving together Corroded Coffin’s first tour. It’s a feat you take no small measure of pride in.

Thankfully, during the weeks you spent taming this beast of a task, Eddie and the guys had been occupied almost entirely with rendering the final mix of their album. They’d worked closely with Argyle in refining the balance and levels of instruments and ambient sounds that would create the dirty industrial feel they were seeking with this upcoming release. You’d popped out of your stuffy little closet occasionally to check on them, though they didn’t seem to need much beyond being fed. Eddie, in particular, seemed quite consumed by a desire to see the vision brought to life, and was as serious and engaged as you’d ever seen him with a chair pulled up next to Argyle. That’s where you’d almost always see him when you emerged— long fingers idly twisting chunky rings, his eyes closed and his brow furrowed while he listened carefully and assisted in tweaking such small changes that you hardly could tell the difference with your unpracticed ear. He had a beeper to page you, but through your months of working with him, you’d begun to anticipate what he needs to sustain him daily in this routine— a hot to-go cup of black coffee first thing in the morning; at least half a box of cigarettes in the pocket of his leather jacket, on call for a smoke break; a salty snack around his lull time of four in the afternoon, which you rotate to keep him from getting bored; and next-to-no interruptions except a quick meeting of your gazes a few times a day in case it reminds him to ask you for something.

And now, finally, as late August adorns the New York streets with haze rising from the asphalt and paints sidewalks with the frantic bustle of summer tourists, your strands of dates and locations and prices and contact names have now been woven together to form a complete tapestry: Accommodations for Corroded Coffin’s ‘95-’96 Album Tour. All the knotted muscles in your shoulders, the bloodshot eyes, the late nights and early mornings had been worth it to get to this point— the point at which the final picture of what exactly that tour would entail has been tied off into neat and tidy knots of thorough efficiency. You stretch your arms above your head and your spine pops with relief; despite the fatigue you feel fuzzing between your eyebrows, you push back your chair almost cheerily and pull the headphones from your ears, prepared pop from the closet and join the men whose tour you’ve just planned.

When you emerge, you expect to see them all in some approximation of the same position as usual— Argyle and Eddie sat in front of the mixing board, Harry hovering close behind, and Gareth and Jeff either mucking about in the studio or sprawled on the couches in the corner where they call out their contributions. Instead, you’re surprised by the presence of an unexpected figure, who acts as the nexus point around which the rest of the band hovers. He’s got his hands stuffed under his armpits and his hip jutted out, one loafer tapping against the floor, though behind his wire-rimmed spectacles he looks less irritated than the last time you’d seen him. I suppose having the tour booked and the album finished would put any band manager in a decent mood, you think, eager to join the throng of smiling men who gather around him.

“What’s on the menu? Anything good? ” Gareth is asking as you walk up.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Is free food not good enough for you? You eat Smarties in Yoohoo as breakfast cereal. Get a grip,” Murray snipes, and laughter rumbles through the group.

“Oh!” All eyes turn to you at your little sound of surprise. “What promo event are you discussing? Did Steve plan something? I don’t remember seeing it on my weekly agenda notes from him.”

There is a beat of uncharacteristic silence from everyone before Jeff speaks— not quite tripping over himself, but with an extra edge of enthusiasm you don’t typically hear in his voice. “No, no,” he assures you quickly. “You didn’t miss anything. It’s a celebration for finishing the album, not a promo event. Just a get together Murray planned for us tomorrow.” He lifts his brows, eyes warm and sincere, if not a little too wide. “You gonna be there?”

That familiar feeling in your chest— that subtle deflating that sinks into your stomach, reminding you of cafeteria tables lacking in saved space and friends reminiscing over shared experiences you hadn’t even been aware of— weighs you down inside as you look into Jeff’s kind face. It stings, the knowledge that you hadn’t quite been forgotten or excluded, but only just— only because you’d emerged from your makeshift office and wandered into the conversation at just the right moment. Had you not, you would have been none the wiser, and it makes Jeff’s question— ‘You gonna be there?’ — feel awkwardly like you’ve invited yourself.

Still, you choose to save face. “Oh, gotcha!” you say, turning to Murray. “Where is it?”

The neutrality in Murray’s expression in place of his typical sardonic scowl almost makes you feel worse. “My place. You been to the Upper West Side?” You nod. “You can show up anytime after seven. I’ll have Harrington shoot you the address, kid.”

You brace yourself against this second blow— being called ‘kid’ as if you really are just Eddie’s babysitter, as if you hadn’t just single-handedly coordinated an entire tour’s-worth of hotels and restaurants and activities— and smile. “Thank you,” you say, avoiding the dark brown eyes of one curly-haired menace.

Because if there’s pity there, too— pity like the kind you felt in Jeff’s too-wide smile or Murray’s soft nod— you think you might just burst into hot, utterly humiliating tears.

On Friday night, it takes some time for you to dress and even longer for you to resolve to actually attend the celebration party. That last-minute invite has rocked your sense of self, manifesting most clearly in the lack of clarity regarding your outfit. Clothes are strewn across your typically-orderly room like a cyclone of indecision has torn through it, and what you’ve chosen feels barely adequate: silver jewelry, simple mary janes, and a black silk blouse that flows like water against your skin, tucked loosely into the waistband of your bootcut blue jeans. You’d settled on the blouse chiefly because of the color, as if with some subconscious desire to blend in with the men you work with so that maybe next time they won’t forget about you.

After a good nights rest unencumbered by that looming task still hanging over your head— since you’d finally completed it, to your relief— and some consideration, you’d reasoned that the reason for your late invitation was probably not malicious. And when you’d checked your email to see that, not even twenty minutes after your conversation with Murray had Steve emailed and sent you details and the address, it essentially confirmed it. Sure, it certainly still stung knowing that you hadn’t been thought of from the get-go, but you chalked it up to your newness and the fact that you’d been cloistered in your ‘office’ so often lately.

You’d concluded the mistake was likely innocent, and as you stand outside the front door to Murray’s apartment hesitating to knock, you find yourself desperately hoping you’re right, and that you haven’t made a mistake by coming after all. This job is already so different from any you’d had before— nowhere else had you spent so much time intimately intertwined with the details of your employer’s life outside of a professional context. Spending time at Eddie’s apartment to wash his dishes, coordinate his meals, take him to his appointments, fetch him the things he needs… look after him… it all feels more domestic than professional, though in this role, really, those things are one in the same. It blurs the lines and leaves you strangely yearning for inclusion, leaves you feeling more vulnerable, as you finally press your index to the doorbell, than you’d honestly prefer.

A flash of panic hits you as you hear the approach of footsteps beyond the door. You prepare yourself for the sight of Murray’s face half-twitched into a reluctantly-polite smile as the rest of the men stare at you from their seats, drinks dangling from their hands as their eyes turn quickly from you and back to one another.

But when the door swings open, you’re instead greeted with the sight of Gareth’s poofy brown bangs and pink cheeks as he smiles so widely at the sight of you you’re sure his face must ache from it. “She made it!” he exclaims into your face, breath puffing loose and acrid with alcohol as he hooks an arm around your shoulder to pull you inside amidst a rousing chorus of elongated ‘ay’s from the rest of the band.

Your apprehension dissolves like seafoam as he pulls you eagerly inside.

The interior of Murray’s apartment feels as though you’ve walked into a time capsule. You aren’t sure whether the mid-century modern theme is because Murray is partial to the style or because he hasn’t bothered updating the furnishings since the seventies, but judging by his half-unbuttoned ‘party’ shirt striped with deep brown and cream— displaying no little amount of bushy chest hair within which a gold chain is nestled— you figure it’s probably the latter. You look around with interest at the furnishings, intrigued by the design’s ability to feel both high end and also warm, quite a contrast from the modern crispness many favor nowadays. Gareth doesn’t give you much time to sight-see as he leads you towards the party’s epicenter in the living room, though you do notice that the walls are a bold burnt orange, accented by geometric wallpaper and bookshelves filled with vintage books and knick-knacks likely gathered on Murray’s travels. As you pad over the shag carpet in your mary janes, your gaze is drawn to the men crowded on the low-slung sofa around a sleek, glass-top coffee table. The air is hazy with smoke, which wafts from a cigar resting in a crystal ashtray near Murray’s elbow, and the record-player in the corner is crackling with jazz— Miles Davis, if your memory serves you correctly.

All-in-all, it’s nothing what you expected Corroded Coffin’s album-completion party to look like, down to the way they all perk as Gareth leaves you to hover near the side of the couch while he plops back down in his spot on the floor. It’s all the familiar faces you would expect, and no one else. Murray, Steve and Argyle sit on low-profile armchairs pulled up beside the coffee table where cards and poker chips clearly indicate they’re in the middle of a game; Jeff and Gareth are seated together on the floor, and they lift their drink glasses to you when your eyes pass over them; and finally, Harry and Eddie are on the couch, knees spread wide and comfortable as they slouch, though they straighten at your approach. The mens’ greetings become a cacophony of friendly voices you can’t possibly discern as they overlap happily, and you accept them with somewhat shy nods but a pleased smile. Harry immediately shifts over towards the couch’s arm, and when he notices, Eddie does the same, narrowing his knees and shuffling over to the opposite side to make room for you.

It’s a clear invitation, one that makes warmth bloom in your chest as you step carefully over Harry’s shoes to sink onto the low velvet couch between them.

“Did you find the place okay?” Steve asks, and you meet his hazel eyes as you reply,

“Yes, thanks. Actually, my aunt lives—” You find a cup suddenly thrust into your fingers, and you close them hastily around textured glass, glancing down at the amber liquid inside. “What is this?”

“Whiskey, my dude,” Argyle replies, settling back into his chair with a lopsided grin. “Bottoms up.”

You stare at it for a moment skeptically, already balking from the burn in your throat. But, like sharks in the water, they sense your hesitation; as if with one mind, the guys lean forward to goad you with some light ribbing, flashing brows, and wide grins. All except Murray, that is, who seems more impatient to get back to the poker game as he grouses and sighs impatiently.

In the end, it’s Eddie’s elbow in your side and his brown eyes catching yours that do it— his gestures are loose with alcohol, and yet more gentle than you typically see him. “C’mon, little Bee.” He smiles, and something catches in your throat as it brightens his flushed face. “Time to get buzzed.”

Your head tosses back of its own accord as you laugh, tickled by the pun; when you look at him again, Eddie looks inordinately pleased with himself. “All right,” you concede; the guys cheer as Murray shakes his head. And though it burns just as much as you knew it would, when you clink that glass down against the coffee table, coughing slightly as Harry claps you jovially on the back, all you feel is warm. Warmth in your belly, warmth against your sides where Harry and Eddie sit beside you, warmth in your cheeks as you settle back against the cushions and look around at the friendly faces that surround you.

Now that you’ve been christened with your first drink, the group turns back to the game of poker your arrival had interrupted. You watch with interest as they take up their hands again, hiding your giggle behind your hand as Gareth dramatically flops backward in a sprawl on the floor when he loses to Jeff, who rakes the pile of chips in the center gleefully and dramatically into his corner of the table. “I put thirty dollars on that hand; come on, man,” Gareth whines, but Jeff pays him no mind nor offers any mercy.

“D’you know how to play?” Eddie asks you, and you shake your head.

“We can teach you,” Harry offers.

“Oh, I’m fine watching—” You begin to protest but it’s cut off almost as quickly with a sharp movement from Eddie, who snatches a handful of chips from his pile into his broad fist, heedless of the way some bounce to the shaggy carpet below. You’d felt warm in your belly, at your sides, and in your cheeks, but more than anything else, you feel that warmth in your heart as Eddie presses some of his poker chips into your open palm.

“Doesn’t matter if you don’t know how to play,” he says matter-of-factly. “Just have some fun.”

You smile at him, a gentle curve of your lips to match the way he pats your wrist before lurching forward to pick up his fallen chips and receive his next hand.

Throughout the games of poker you play, you find yourself both having the fun Eddie had instructed you to and simultaneously watching him, marveling at the way the haze and jazz and laughs and velvet couch have… softened him, almost. He's clearly drunk— more than a little glassy-eyed, with flushed cheeks and loose, heedless swinging of his wild curls and his limbs as he celebrates victories and laments losses— but it’s accompanied by more easy smiles and cackling laughs than you’ve heard from him in the last few months combined. He’s full of life tonight, but without as much biting edge. And you can’t help but think that to see him like this, so relaxed, so happy…

It’s nice. Nice in a way that makes that feeling bloom again— the one you’d been feeling more often since the photoshoot. You shake it quickly away.

His joy fuels the others, you notice. You suppose it makes sense; Eddie’s boisterousness and overwhelming energy tends to dictate the tides despite others’ attempts to direct situations otherwise. And as the night wares on, that easy looseness eventually devolves to become a bit more wild. Of course, it doesn’t take much for some of the others to follow suit.

Somewhere between the umpteenth hand of poker and your third round of drinks, Argyle wanders into Murray’s kitchen and helps himself to the bottle of champagne chilling in an icebucket, most likely prepared by Steve— you can’t see Murray bothering with that. Steve perks up when he comes back over, rubbing his hands on his trousers and rising as he reaches to take it from Argyle.

“Thanks, Arg,” he says, but his gratitude ends up being a little hasty. Because rather than passing the bottle into his waiting hand, Argyle instead begins to shake it with a jerky flail of his arm, forcing Steve to retract his fingers, who huffs affrontedly. “I was gonna say something,” he protests, and while the exasperation is easy to read there, it’s overshadowed as Eddie leaps suddenly off the couch, crouching slightly, face alight with mischief as he circles Argyle on the rug. Once Eddie’s up, everyone follows suit— Jeff and Gareth scramble to join him, and you and Harry follow close behind, your hands clasping your elbows as you eye the proceedings with cautious amusement.

“Yeah, yeah, Steve, we all know what you’re gonna say,” Eddie drawls, but the wide smile on his face takes the edge off the sarcasm. “‘What an incredible accomplishment, we’ve worked so hard, the culmination of many months of effort—’ blah, blah, fuckin’ blah.” Eddie cackles as he flings his arm out to smack Steve companionably in the stomach, making his PR manager stumble slightly due to the accidental force behind the gesture. “Allow me.”

Eddie flourishes and bows dramatically, his wild curls splaying around his shoulders as he jerks his head up to address the group— his face is flushed, pink rather than pale, with a vein popping on his forehead, and you can’t help but shake your head in reluctant, wry amusement as he declares, “Fuck bitches, get money, make metal, and raise fucking hell, boys!”

And with that— without any forewarning, really, besides a slanted smirk— Argyle pops the cork from the champagne bottle, spraying Eddie directly in the face with it.

You don’t know why you wouldn’t have expected it, but you stiffen with a little jerk as Murray roars, “Fuckin’— dammit, Argyle, not on the goddamn rug—!”

His ire is quickly overtaken by joy that fills the room as Jeff and Gareth jump towards the spray, mouths open wide in wait; ever obliging, Argyle coats their faces, too, directing most of the alcohol into their mouths but playfully directing it toward you and Harry too. You squeal and giggle as fizzy drops coat you lightly, turning into Harry’s broad shoulder for protection as the spray gradually weakens until it’s nothing but a dribble dropping to the shag.

In the ensuing silence, Steve looks at Murray sympathetically. “I’ll bill him for the carpet cleaning,” he promises, wringing his hands until Murray’s face calms from apoplectic to merely deeply aggravated.

You’re briefly worried he may pop an aneurysm until Argyle— the only one of you still bone dry— distracts everyone by pulling something casually from his pocket. “Oh, brochachos. Almost forgot. I got this advance copy of the album finished last night.”

The boys explode in a flurry of potent outrage and glee. “Why the fuck didn’t you tell us sooner?!” Jeff shouts, and you’re taken aback to see the most even-keeled member of Corroded Coffin shake his producer by the shoulders.

“Relax, dude,” Argyle drawls. “S’not fully mastered yet, but it’s close enough.”

And when the needle scratches to a halt on the record player, replacing smooth, dulcet jazz with the rhythmic drum beat of what you know is the boys’ favorite song on the album: ‘Closer.’

It also happens to be one of the best tracks to dance to, and the boys take advantage of that, though their movements— mostly just flailing limbs as they jump and headbang— are really just some crude approximation of dancing. Yet that doesn’t detract from the glee of the moment as, at some point you get pulled in, too, finding yourself in the middle of it all— laughing and swinging your head and shouting along with them. “I wanna fuck you like an animal!” you scream, chest effusive with bubbling joy as Eddie doubles over in wild, joyful laughter at the crudeness of the lyrics shouted in your alcohol-hoarsened voice. You find yourself swung by hands, twirled under arms, spinning and sing-shouting until your throat goes scratchy and your head a little fuzzy from all the activity.

As the song ends, Eddie steadies you with a hand on your shoulder, and you smile up at him appreciatively but are surprised when he doesn’t remove his hand. Instead, he tips his head, jerking it toward the kitchen. “Come on,” he says, and you see his lips move but barely hear his words underneath the booming of the next track, which echoes so loudly it nearly rattles the knick-knacks on Murray’s shelves.

You trail after your employer as he leads you to the kitchen, sloppily filling an empty glass with water from the sink and handing it to you without any explanation. The intuitiveness of the gesture surprises you, as does the way he hovers nearby while you take tiny sips to soothe your parched throat.

Eddie leans a hip against the counter, stuffing his hands in the back pockets of his dark jeans and looking you over appraisingly. It’s the first time you’ve really gazed at him all night, and as he appraises you, you don’t feel that instinctual need to hide, the impulse dulled by the warmth buzzing in your veins. Instead, you just appraise him back, eyes trailing over the silver of his handcuff belt buckle, the chain at his hip, the soft, faded black of his band t-shirt, your eyes lingering where he’s clearly torn the sleeves off, evident by dangling threads that tickle the alabaster of his pale biceps. His curls are frizzier than before, still damp and sticking to his neck from the champagne, and his plush lips are pinker than they typically are— shiny and wet as he licks across them with a swipe of his tongue.

You feel a distinct stirring deep in your belly and wrench your gaze from his mouth to his eyes, face heating as you anticipate a smirk and a crude remark, or perhaps a pointed comment about your wandering gaze. Yet Eddie’s face is calm, almost a little hesitant as he opens his mouth to speak— seemingly entirely consumed by what he wants to say. “So, you know we’re going on tour,” he says matter-of-factly, and you can’t help but snort at the ridiculousness of it.

“I think I’ve gathered that. I mean, I’ve only been working out your accommodations for said tour for the past few weeks now,” you retort with a little smirk, and his lips curl in a lopsided grin at your sass. You anticipate a rebuttal, but Eddie continues without comment.

“Well, I know it might come as a shock that I’d be admitting this, but, ah…” He scratches the corner of his lips with one dark-painted fingernail, mouth stretched wide before he continues abruptly, “things have been running a little smoother since you came around. ‘Specially once you got the hang of washing my silky drawers right.”

Your growing pleasure at the praise flattens along with your expression at that final comment, though it eases when he smiles at you, crooked but wide, as eager as you’ve ever seen his smile be. “So,” he says with an air of dramatic finality, “how’s about you take that laundry service on the road?”

In what is almost more to goad him than in genuine disgust, you wrinkle your nose, and your chest warms again when he chuckles huskily, knocking you with his elbow lightly again. "What I'm try’na say is... you wanna come on tour with us?"

When you think back to the way this party began for you— with a split second of awkward silence and a hastily extended invitation, clearly late-to-come— you hadn’t anticipated the way it would end up. In that moment at the studio, you couldn’t imagine being welcomed in so readily, sprayed with champagne, twirled underneath their arms, and cared for with poker chips and glasses of water. You hadn’t thought you’d be here, standing with Eddie Munson in his manager’s kitchen, being invited by him personally to go on tour with the band.

It’s confirmation that you do have a place amongst them, and it’s also exactly why you took this job in the first place— the opportunity to explore beyond the limits of your current world.

"Yes,” you reply, and you can’t help it when your voice comes out honey sweet. “I'd really like that."

"Well, good,” Eddie huffs good-humoredly, “‘cause you kinda have to whether you like it or not. But I'm glad I don't have to twist your arm after all."

You nod, and something small— small and tenuous, trickling like briny water— flows between you and Eddie as you gaze at one another. "Well... thank you," you say, your voice soft and almost shy as you look up at him.

Eddie blinks, looking a little taken aback by the gratefulness in your expression. Quickly, his eyes jump from yours to track around the room as he says distractedly, "Sure, little Bee— Hey, Murray!” His hoarse voice rises in a shout as he skirts around you, trailing out of the kitchen as he calls wolfishy, “Where's your top shelf shit? I wanna get fuckin' blasted tonight."

You watch him lope off toward the living room again without sparing you another glance. Quickly, you drain your water glass, leaving it in the sink and wandering back into the fray until you find yourself elbow to elbow with Steve.

“So—” Your eyes find hazel as Steve regards you with a friendly, knowing smile. “You ready for that travel I promised you?”

Another wild cackle— one that, after tonight, threatens to haunt you in your sleep— draws both of your gazes. For a moment, you and Steve watch as Eddie sneaks up behind an unsuspecting Gareth, grappling him around the neck and tugging him into a headlock as the other man sputters and kicks at him. All at once, they seem to you much younger than their years, and it makes you consider the question.

Are you ready for the travel Steve promised you— travel where wrangling these unruly rockstars, and one in particular, is about to become even more of your daily existence?

You find, as Eddie shoves Gareth into Jeff and licks across his bottom teeth with a manic grin when the two recover and face him, readying themselves to retaliate, that you have no damn idea whether you’re ready or not.

Dear Soulmate…

The early morning of the first day on tour, your feet carry you around the familiar walls of your apartment, taking in the comforting sights you’ve woken up to for the past year. Angela watches from the kitchen island, eyes full of unshed tears, an unspoken awareness settling over the room. Your life has changed since becoming Eddie’s assistant. It’s a reality you’ve accepted for some weeks now, but it feels real now—more than it ever has before. Because now you’ll be traveling on tour with the band, with him, moving across state lines you’ve never roamed. It’s a world of endless opportunity ahead, new sights to see, places to explore. It dawns on you that your home in New York City will be a far and distant memory for the next months you’ll be following Corroded Coffin around the country.

I’m leaving on tour with Eddie and the band today. Isn’t that crazy? I’ve never been this far from home – traveling was just never something I had time to do. I was always so focused on school, on trying to make my parents proud, on trying to be perfect. And now, I’ll be traveling with a metal band across the country! I never thought this is where I’d end up, but I’m trying to learn to embrace the unexpected (it’s so scary though!). I definitely didn’t expect Eddie to be the one inviting me. Although, he acted like he really had no choice in the matter, it’s still strange.

Angela helps roll your multiple suitcases out into the main living area, mouth a wobbly line as you push them over onto their side and make sure you have everything you need one final time. Heels and other shoes, boots and sneakers in one duffel bag, each one a proper pair, freshly wiped down for any imperfection or defects. Another bag holds all your toiletries, makeup products, and hair tools should you ever need them. You unzip your suitcases next, peering in at various tights, dark skirts, dark colored sweaters, dark wash jeans for your off days.

Eddie is… well, we’re still working on our relationship. I think most of the time he feels like I’m annoying him on purpose, but I’m really just trying to do my job. He’s not used to being on a schedule, which is a little wild to me because that’s all I’ve ever known. And maybe that’s what makes him push me away so much. His wife says I need to push back a bit, but I’m worried about keeping my job… I think I’ve grown to like working for him.

Angela walks you down to the street, helping roll one of your bags down and onto the pavement. Cars and taxis speed by in a kaleidoscope of color, but your eyes latch solely on the rolled down window of the car sitting on the curb’s edge.

Eddie’s thre with a cigarette held loosely between his fingers, those dark sunglasses of his shrouding his eyes, tattooed arm on display in the bright sun of the morning. An inky tapestry of intricate detail, etched with countless stories and meanings he’ll never divulge. In the front is Hopper, his usual bored demeanor in place as he opens the driver's side door and walks around to join you and your roommate. The back trunk of the vehicle pops open with a small beep, your heart hammering away as the heftier man helps hoist your things into the back and latches the car back into place.

“Ready?” Eddie calls from the car.

You’re on the clock, sure, but you still remind yourself to quench the desire to raise your middle finger in a vulgar gesture, annoyance writhing in your gut. Instead, you focus your tangle of nerves on the girl standing before you on the street, with her shiny blonde hair and mournful expression on her face. She takes a slow step forward, arms coming to curl around your shoulders. There’s a suddenness of the realization you won’t see her until you return to New York for the holiday season. For the last year you’ve woken to the comfort of the four walls of your bedroom, the warmth of your apartment, and your friendship with Angela.

“Go crush it,” she says, smoothing a palm up and down your spine, head close to your ear. “Take all the pictures. Try and enjoy yourself. New York will be here when you get back. I’ll be expecting as many phone calls as possible, and postcards of all the places you travel to! I want to hear about it all.”

He’s challenging, and yeah he calls me Bee (which I am STILL certain is short for Bitch despite his reassurances otherwise) but the work genuinely feels rewarding. Also, I am really enjoying getting to know the other guys in the band. They’re not friends, no, but they’re kind enough. And who knows? Maybe Eddie will come around. We don’t need to be friends, but I would like it if one day we could become colleagues, at the very least.

Eddie regards you with little interest, still unchanging in his distaste for any time before 12pm, as you clamber into the back of the car with him. He does not shift whatsoever to accommodate your presence, only haphazardly flicks his cigarette onto the concrete below and dips his head at Angela. The blushing blonde raises her hand in a nervous wave, an uneasy smile crawling across her features as he glances along her frame, telling her to have a nice rest of her day. It’s almost comical, though no laughter bubbles up from you, the easy kindness he shows her way; meanwhile, he regards you most days as though you’re no more than a pest when he’s not relentlessly flirting with you. Hot and cold, dependent on his mood on any given day. A bee to be swatted away. You suppose it’s understandable—knowing your mere presence is a reminder of the mistakes he’s made in the public eye. Huffing audibly in your mild upset, your fingers lift to wiggle in the air to wave goodbye to her as Hopper slides the tinted windows up to keep the air conditioned temperature within the vehicle, obscuring her from view.

I wonder about what you’re doing a lot these days. It’s summertime, the season of endless possibilities. Are you traveling? Maybe you’re on a beach somewhere tropical. Maybe you’re celebrating some good news. Or, maybe you’ve taken up a new hobby. Angela and I tried hot yoga last week (never again), so I suggest you stay away from that one. To be honest, and maybe it sounds silly, I just think about you a lot. With everything changing, it seems like knowing you’re out there is one thing I can rely on. Even if I haven’t met you yet.

Your fingers drop and curl around your notebook tucked within your pocketbook for safekeeping, trailing along the pages littered with words meant for the one person in the universe who will understand you better than anyone. It brings you comfort as Hopper peels away from the road and into the bustle of New York City traffic.

Outside, taxis speed in and out of lanes, regardless of bodies surging forward in intersections, heedless in pursuit of their destinations. The car jerks and thumps over numerous manholes and metal grates around street corners, Hopper’s fingers reaching across the center console to raise the volume on the radio.

One of Corroded Coffin’s songs is playing through the elaborate speaker system. There’s a spark of pride that springs to life within you. It’s not one of the newer, to be released singles—no; but there’s a sense of excitement for them, knowing how hard they’ve worked to get where they are, especially because you’ve witnessed the effort they put into their craft first hand.

Eddie seems unphased by his own voice on the radio — as if it’s a normal occurrence for him, and you suppose it is. While you’re still adjusting to your new life following alongside a public figure, he’s had some time to become acclimated. He’s experienced sold out concerts, screaming fans singing along to his songs, crowds surging forward to try and get closer to Corroded Coffin. He’s been on the receiving end of good and bad press that paints him in a caricature of himself; one that’s larger than life and not entirely accurate.

And you’re once again reminded you’re here with him because you’re his assistant when his thigh accidentally brushes yours as the car jolts over a particularly large bump, skin burning at the point of contact, seated beside him in the quiet space around you, watching as the city blurs behind your eyes.

“Remind me of what you have planned for the day,” he drawls, and you’re grateful his stare is presently focused on looking out his window and not on your face. He doesn’t capture the deep inhale, nor does he catch the slight gathering of tears on your lashes that you swat away with the pads of your fingers, brought upon by the suddenness of your change in scenery and leaving Angela.

It's as easy as breathing after that. With his cold, quiet words a distraction from the sadness swirling in your gut, you swiftly breeze through the mental list you woke with. You remind him you’ll arrive on schedule at six, where you’ll get on the tour bus around seven after having a meeting and breakfast with Murray and the rest of the band. After that it’s a two and a half hour drive into Philly. It gives you all enough time to get situated once in the city and for the band to relax a bit to get into the proper headspace before getting ready for their soundcheck in preparation for the first concert scheduled later in the evening.

You tamper down and try to hide the thrill of excitement that buzzes in your veins at the prospect of seeing the guys all perform together. It’s been one thing watching them in the studio for the months they’ve been working on the album, and another all together to see the culmination of all their hard work come to fruition. However, it also brings up a new bout of anxieties over what exactly will be required of you while on the road. Thus far you’ve run errands and kept Eddie on schedule for meetings, interviews, photoshoots and other appearances. Following him across state lines and watching him on the stage, however, seems like a new, daunting task you’re hoping to tackle head on.

“Ever been to the exotic Philadelphia?” Your head jerks as the words break through the silence, those dark eyebrows of his furrowing in confusion when your mouth opens and closes, no words falling freely from your lips. “I’ll take that as a no.”

You swallow thickly, pushing aside the indignation that burns and builds at his words. His inked fingers reach up to grasp the sunglasses perched on his nose, sliding them down slowly to fold them away beside his thigh. You’re no stranger to Eddie’s features at this point. Those amber eyes of his, emotive and magnetic, immediately capture your attention. You regard him carefully, just as he is you, his gaze trailing your features in a slow perusal. When you finally speak, it’s a soft utterance of, “I haven’t really ventured too far out of New York.”

He chuckles gleefully, mouth drawn upward enough where your eyes catch on the dimple in his cheek. He’d be prettier, you think, if he scowled less. Like this he’s vibrant and bright, and appears much younger than his twenty nine years. For a moment you wonder what he was like before all the fame, before the party lifestyle, before the allure of the industry sunk its greedy teeth into him and spat him right back out. His head shifts toward the streets, and your eyes drop down to your lap, fingers toying with a frayed edge on your pocketbook. You hear him then, voice a husk of, “Looks like it’s time for my little worker bee to finally leave the hive.”

My first stop is Philadelphia. I’ll definitely be sure to take a bunch of pictures to share with you someday! I’d like to try and draw a bit too while I'm gone, but who knows. I haven’t really had much time for that lately with the new job. If I create anything worth keeping, I’ll definitely save it so I can show it to you.

You offer him an easy smile, returning your gaze to the world outside the vehicle, exhaling deeply when Hopper pulls up into a parking garage. He mutters briefly that he needs to go check on the tour bus and leaves the two of you to your own devices. You can hear the echoes of voices closer to the tour bus, whoops and calls from the other band members reach your ears through the softly parted window as they catch sight of Eddie’s vehicle. Vaguely, you even catch the utterance of your name in the midst, teasing in nature, urging the two of you outside.

Before you can even say a word, Eddie’s opening his passenger side door and getting out of the car, leaving you behind with your things. Exhaling deeply, you move to open your own side and nearly fall out when the man in question tugs the door open and extends a hand in your direction. There’s a brief clash of stares while your eyes drift from his to his palm, uncertain as to what he’s doing.

Unamused, Eddie huffs out, reluctantly explaining, “So you don’t bust your ass like you did your first day working for me.” His eyes drop to your largely inconvenient heels. You’d only worn them because you weren’t sure what one would wear before heading off on a concert tour. Noting your apprehension, he continues, “Bee, I’m not going to pull my hand away at the last second. I can be a gentleman, you know?”

You snort, wrinkling your nose. “I didn’t doubt it.” It’s not the fullness of truth, but you suppose for your client, it’s better to abstain from telling him that most days he is quite determinately, or at least it seems that way, driving you to the brink of hysteria. It’s probably also best to not remind him how not very long ago, before you hired him another maid you insisted he keep this time, he would make you clean his brownstone top to bottom. A task that also included tending to his clothing and highly suspect underwear on more than one occasion.

Deciding to appease him, you envelop his palm within your own and allow him to help you down onto the concrete below. Your feet wobble a bit from the drop, but he’s there with a gentle hand at your bicep to steady you, before the moment fizzles and he pulls away all together. You walk side by side, though not together, to join the rest of the band where they stand in an excited huddle around the tour bus.

Even the vehicle itself is larger than you anticipated. It looms above you, imposing and impressive, signifying the success the group has seen in the time they’ve been in the media spotlight. You have little opportunity to think about it, however, because the boys greet you with warm welcomes and hellos, trading their normal handshakes they’ve given you for hugs. A recent development, brought about merely by spending as much time with them over the months as you have. Jeff in particular lingers a little longer just as Murray calls the band into a circle for a meeting, muttering a “Happy you’re here,” before rejoining with the rest of his band mates.

You’re not left alone long in that parking garage, luckily enough. Steve’s there to urge you off to the side when he pulls up in his car. He’s a little worse for wear, acknowledging his lateness with a wave to the guys and a pleading look shot your way. He requests you follow him, putting yourself out of earshot from the rest of the men. For a brief moment, you worry you’ve done something to muddle your position. Stomach dropping at the thought you might have unintentionally said the wrong thing to Eddie, a vendor — maybe even Robin, but that fear is quelled immediately when Steve clears his throat, his hand coming to cup around the back of his neck, kneading the muscle beneath his fingertips.

“Look, you’re doing great. I’ve told you more times than I can count on two hands how grateful I am you’re here and everything, but I need you to know that the Eddie you’ve seen thus far is nothing like Eddie on tour. He’s — ”

Your mouth opens briefly to ask what his meaning is behind the clear warning, just as Eddie appears out of the blue and claps Steve on the shoulder, chuckling brightly as he asks, “Ready to go, Bee?” He looks to you imploringly, and you haltingly meet his stare before shifting back to Steve’s kind features. He tips his head, dismissing you, and you join at Eddie’s side, following him in the direction of the vehicle. Murray shoots Eddie a stern look as the two of you walk along by, your eyes darting to the Corroded Coffin logo stretched across the entirety of the exterior. “Here is your home for the next few months.”

You’re uncertain as to what you might expect. You’ve never been on a tour bus before. The closest thing you can attribute it to is a coach bus for a school field trip back in your early education days. What greets you as Eddie turns back to extend a hand once more and assist you in climbing up onto the first step is greater than anything your mind might have conjured.

He’s not kidding by his assessment that the bus will quite literally be your home for the duration of the tour. At the head of the impressive vehicle belies Hopper’s station, full of buttons and displays you’ve never seen before, and a dashboard with a hanging Corroded Coffin logo dangling from his rear view mirror. The burly man raises his hand in a wave as you and Eddie pass, heading into the lounge area that follows immediately. Your eyes are drawn to dark red couches, like that of a red wine, with black pillows strewn about. Nestled in front of the couch is a table pressed against the corner wall, new magazines displaying photos of the band and a headline that details the upcoming tour.

Deeper into the vehicle is the adjoining kitchen, all in the same color scheme of dark black furniture, with red and silver accented bits. Eddie shows you around the space, opening the fridge for emphasis, showing you how to use the different amenities, before moving on down to point out the bathroom. Lastly, you’re brought into the bedrooms. Or rather, one spacious room lined with bunk beds on either side of the bus.

“Normally I like being on top, but when it comes to sleeping I prefer the bottom." Eddie says suggestively, gesturing to the bed on his right. Your head shifts his way, taking in the little alcove he’ll be sleeping in for the night. He waves his hand to your left, smirking. “That’ll be yours. In case of an emergency.”

“In case of an emergency,” you repeat slowly, placing your pocketbook down on your assigned bed as you settle down beside it, positioned specifically across from Eddie’s in the event he requires you for anything. You quickly reach inside and jot down a few sentences in the unfinished letter, affixing a bright floral sticker to one of the corners.

I have to go. We’re about to leave, but I just wanted to let you know what I’m up to. I’ll talk to you soon. Wouldn’t it be fun if we met in Philly?

As you shut your notebook, you realize you never heard the rest of Steve’s harrowing warning. I need you to know that the Eddie you’ve seen thus far is nothing like Eddie on tour. Your eyes narrow in piqued curiosity as you take in Eddie, that now familiar lanky form of his flopping down against his own mattress. He nods his head in your direction and you wave back numbly.

You hear it then. That soft howling in the distance, a creeping sense of something looming with no name to place on it.

You offer him a soft smile, and he throws a pillow over his head, settling down to nap.

Steve’s warning is suddenly very far away from your mind.

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darknesseddiem · 3 months

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Rockstar!Eddie and Camerawoman!Reader 😩😩😩

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie smut #dark!eddie munson #eddiemunson #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson smut #rockstar!eddie munson #eddie stranger things #eddie x reader

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lillypad910 · 9 months

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His Angel

Pairing: Bi! Eddie Munson x Bi! Christian (Baptist) raised! plus sized! girly! f! Reader

Word count: 10k

Warnings: (this is not pre-read, so it may have errors) MINORS DO NOT INTERACT! smut, fingering, oral (f receiving), piv, protected sex (they wrap it), fluff (lots of it mixed in), reader identifies as an atheist after childhood trauma dealing with religious beliefs, pet names (Angel [main], Sweetheart, Baby, Baby girl), use of (y/n) but only with family members.

Summary: You were always a good girl, a good Christian girl who wanted to be loved by your family. But growing up in that house was hard. With two older brothers way older than you, and parents already in their late 50’s, your relationship with your family is… difficult. You were taught that what you are is wrong, but then you fell in love with a certain guitarist who makes you remember that you are worthy of love.

A/n: Came up with this idea a couple days ago (literally right after my last post about having writer’s block), and just went to town on it. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it!

If you wanna be tagged when I post ask or comment telling me so!

All photos found on Pinterest

You remember your childhood vividly, it wasn’t ‘bad’ for the most of it. Church was a constant play in the workings of your family home. Your mother a youth worker within the church (your church didn’t actually allow her to hold ‘pastor’ as her term), your father an old choir boy, now working a normal 9-5 job in an office building. Your family attended church every Wednesday and Sunday, every Easter, thanksgiving, and Christmas. There was no alcohol allowed in your house, not even during the holidays.

You have two older brothers, both of them were closer in age, only five years apart, while you were ten years apart from the youngest of the two, so you grew up practically on your own. You were raised primarily by your older parents, bother already reaching their 40’s when you were born.

Your oldest brother, Logan, once said in a fit of anger that you were an accident. You didn’t understand at the time, but now that you’re older, you get it.

You’ll never forget that one fated day you sat in your room, you had just turned thirteen a few weeks before. Sarah, your friend from church, someone you’ve known since you were infants, sat across from you. You were making friendship bracelets.

There was something about Sarah, she was just so… so pretty. Her long blond hair always perfectly curled, her gorgeous green eyes you could swear you could stare into for hours.

Elijah, your other friend, a boy from school, had told you that you shouldn’t act on any of your feelings for Sarah. His daddy had told him it was wrong to feel that way, to feel… attracted… to the same gender. But you couldn’t help it.

You had spent many nights sleeping over at Sarah’s and her at yours. As children you would hold hands on the playground. Your parents thought it was cute how close you two were. But as you sat in front of her that day, that beautiful day. The sun setting outside, the shades of purples and blues mixing with the warm orange, of the last golden rays highlighting her hair perfectly. You couldn’t help it.

You kissed her.

It happened so fast, you leaned over, capturing her lips with yours before pulling away. Your heart raced in your chest, beating faster, and faster, and faster. Her beautiful green eyes widened, her expression of shock was even pretty. Did she feel this way too? Did you act to fast? Before you could say anything to her, she quickly stood and ran out of the room. You heard her yell out for your mom as her foot steps made it down the stairs.

Oh no. Oh no no no no!

Your hand slapped against your chest, your heart not slowing as you began to panic. You read it all wrong, all wrong!

It’s all gone wrong. Elijah was right. I should have kept quiet. Held back.

Maybe I can play it off?

Your mother came barging into your room as you picked back up the bracelet quickly. “Hi, Momma!” You gave her a smile. It was so fake, but you just beg the lord she won’t notice. “Dewdrop,” your mother’s voice that day was stern, “did you-“ she cuts herself off, taking a deep breath, as if trying to calm her emotions, “Did you… kiss… Sarah…?”

Your brain had scattered, terrified how she was gonna react. You took too long.

She had snatched you off the rug before you could even say anything else, dragging you by your ear and down the stairs. Her hand raised before you before you could react.

Smack!

It been years since that day, as you now sit at your desk in your room, the pink floral wallpaper from your childhood always and forever familiar.

Tap! Tap!

You look over at your window, your eyes widening as you spot the long curly mop of hair even through the darkness outside. Quickly making your way to your window, opening the pane carefully, your heart racing as you are greeted by the softest, most comforting brown eyes you ever did see. “Eddie!” You whisper yell at him, your voice filled with concern and worry, “what are you doing here? You know my parents can’t see you!”

Eddie is all smiles, his eyes glancing down to your lips, “So? I thought you liked the chance of getting caught?” You roll your eyes, happy you are allowed to lock your door now that you’re older. “So…” he grips his hand tighter on the windowsill, “gonna let your boyfriend in? Or?” You immediately step back, muttering a sorry as you help him throw himself into your room without knocking anything over.

After straightening out his leather jacket and denim vest, he steps closer to you, reaching out and gripping at your nightgown, balling the fabric into his fists. “How’s my beautiful girlfriend?” You can’t help but smile at him, “I’m ok,” your hands slowly move up his chest, your eyes watching your fingers cling at his leather jacket, “how about you, Romeo?” He smiles, leaning in and giving your rosy cheek a peck, “I’ve been good, bored though.” “Oh?” “Mhmm,” His lips pressed soft kisses against your skin, getting closer and closer to your lips, before stopping. “You fucking tease…” you pout, gripping a little tighter at his jacket, making him chuckle. “Oh I’m sorry, did my good girl just swear? In her family home?” “Shut up.”

He pulls away and drops down onto your bed, spreading out across your powder blue duvet. “Come here,” he gestures for you to come lay with him, but you do something he doesn’t entirely expect.

You lift your nightgown, giving him the smallest glimpse of your white panties, the little blue bow on the front catching his eyes’ attention, before climbing over his legs. Your legs sit on either side of his hips, your center lowering just on top of his crotch, making him let out a soft groan. “Happy?” You ask, grinding your hips down and he grips at them quickly, steadying you. “Fucking swear, if you keep doing that-“ “What? You’ll do what, Munson?” Your voice is sugar sweet, faking innocence so well.

“Fuck, gonna make me cream my pants, Angel.” He sits up, adjusting his position so his hands are down on the bed behind him, propping him up. “Oh? Am I too much for you- Ah!” You gasp, cutting your sentence short as you’re flipped over, quickly looking at the door before back up at the guy on top of you. Eddie smirks down at you, his eyes glancing down at your lips. “Never,” he kisses you quickly, “ever,” another kiss, “think you’re too much for me.” He kisses your nose this time, before nuzzling it with his own.

He softly kisses you again, his lips pressing gently to yours, but slowly he picks up, kissing a little more desperately. His lips are slightly chapped, scratching a bit against your perfectly smooth lips. Your heart picks up, breath becoming more unsteady with every smooch. His hands guide down to your hips, pulling your nightgown up and to your waist, making your panties entirely visible. He pulls away, tilting his head down to the view he so desperately loves. “Could stare at you all day, Angel.” He gives you one final kiss before beginning to kiss down your neck. His fingers curl around the hem of your underwear, pulling them down slowly as his kisses travel down your clothed chest and bare stomach.

“All mine,” he hums into your skin, “all for me.” He pulls your underwear past your knees, gripping one of your thighs and pulling your shin and foot through the leg hole. “Gonna kill me one day,” he kisses along your lifted thigh. You feel yourself getting wet from his touch, his kisses sending shivers down your spine. He pulls your panties off your other leg, looking back up at your eyes before pocketing the white pair. “Mine now.” You can’t help but giggle at him, not able to count just how many crusty pairs you’ve gotten back weeks later.

His fingers move to your stomach, his palms kneading into your chubby belly like a ball of dough, before moving lower. A soft gasp leaves your lips, sounding like the most beautiful melody Eddie has ever heard as his fingers slip inside you.

Eddie swears he could watch you take his fingers all day. The way your eyebrows scrunch up, your eyes go blown, your thighs try to press together.

He leans down, brushing his nose against your clit. He watches his fingers thrust in and out of you from such close proximity, before licking your folds. Your hand quickly flies up to cover your mouth as you moan, trying to keep quiet with your parents just down the hall.

“E-Eds…!” You gasp, his free hand pressing your legs farther apart, his hips now rutting into your mattress as he buries his face in your cunt, lapping up your arousal. You let out a soft whimper as your toes curl, your hips now lifting off the bed to push into his face. Eddie removes his fingers from you, now gripping under your thighs and around to your hips, pulling your body into his face more. Your thighs squeeze around his head as you feel yourself release, gripping the duvet under you. Your eyes blur over with a few tears from the feeling, still not entirely used to being pushed to this amount of euphoria.

Your legs softly get set on the bed, a wet spot under you as Eddie climbs back up, placing a soft kiss on your stomach before smiling down at you. “Angel,” he reaches up and cups your face, tilting it to look at him, “You still with me?” It came out with a soft laugh, teasing. “Yeah,” you breathe out, breathe still heavy as you come down from the high, “Yeah, I’m here.” He smiles and pulls your nightgown back down, his obvious erection still poking at your thigh.

You sit up, glancing back at your door before turning back to your secret boyfriend. “Sweetheart,” his voice draw you back in, his fingers wrapping around your chin and pulling you against his chest as he leans back against your pillows, “don’t worry so much, you keep glancing at the door like they hear us.” He kisses your cheek, nuzzling into you. You blush as the only thing you can smell is you. “Eddie,” you quietly groan out his name, practically a whisper. He hums, fumbling with the belt to undo it. You blush as he shimmies his pants and boxers down his hips. You tilt your head to the wall, your blush spreading to your ears.

“Angel,” Eddie places his hands on your back, “look at me.” You pull back and look at him, your heart beating fast.

“You can tell me if you want to stop, Sweetheart. You know that.” He kisses your nose, his fingers slowly moving to ball your nightgown up, letting his warm fingers press to your now bare back. “Do you want to stop?” His voice is calm, no judgment present anywhere. “No… I-I wanna…” your eyes glance at your mirror, giving you sight of your door. Eddie’s eyes soften.

“Angel, you were being all confident earlier, now you’re shrinking and keep looking to make sure your door is shut.” He kisses your nose, making you melt a little into him. He hesitates for a moment, “is it… because of back then…?” You freeze, immediately your head snaps to look at him, his deep brown eyes staring at you with such love.

“Do you wanna sneak out…?” You ask, trying to dodge the reality of your trauma. Eddie’s eyes narrow, “Oh no, you’re talking about it now. You have no choice.” “What? No!” You whisper yell. “Angel,” Eddie pushes you off of him a little, making your eyes widen, the fear of rejection again banging on your heart. He pulls up his pants again, before pulling you back onto him, immediately shushing those thoughts, “Talk to me.”

“I just-“ you hesitate, you let out a deep breath, “I’m scared…” Eddie’s eyes soften, his hands sliding down to your hips, grounding you. “What of?” “Here.” The word comes out tense, your discomfort obvious, but not from him or his actions, just the place. Your room. Your house.

“Baby,” Eddie rubs his thumb over your hip, “We can pick this up tomorrow, we don’t have to-“ “No!” You immediately wince and cover your mouth at your raised voice. “I-I mean…”

A thud comes from across the house. You both freeze.

Shit.

You both scurry to get up, you pulling down your nightgown as he quickly goes to hide in your closet behind your door. You quickly shut your window, unlock your door, and sit at your desk, immediately jumping back up from the cold feeling on your —you shockingly forgot— exposed lower body. You don’t have time to grab another pair of panties so you just tuck your night gown under you and sit.

A knock comes on your door immediately after you sit. “Yes?” You call out. The door opens and your mother pops her head in, “Did you make a loud noise?” You just nod.

“Yeah sorry, I, uh, messed up my paper. Did I wake you?” She hums in response, “technically, but it’s alright. It’s almost midnight, Darling—” the nickname makes you cringe. It’s the same one she called you that day. “— make sure you get some sleep.” She smiles at you, before shutting your door and you hear steps heading back down the hall. You finally let out the breath you didn’t even realize you were holding.

Eddie sticks his head out, making sure the coast is clear before stepping out. “That was terrifying.” “Yeah no shit, Eds.” You tell him as he steps closer to you, he places his hand on your head and leans down a bit to kiss your hair. “I’ll see you tomorrow, ok?” You look up at him, “but-!” “No buts, Angel. You’re too stressed here, I’m gonna sneak you out of class tomorrow and take you somewhere more private. Then we can finish what we started.” He lets you lay your head onto his stomach for a moment.

“Fine…” you hate that he’s right. Your room hasn’t been a ‘safe space’ since you were thirteen. He gives your head one more kiss before climbing back out your window.

You and Eddie run out of the school, hand in hand, adrenaline pumping through you as you both book it to his van. It was only 12:35pm, luckily for both of you, your lunch had just started, so it was easy to walk out of ‘class’, class being the cafeteria with an annoyed teacher by the doors who doesn’t care that you leave.

You both slip into his van, giggling as you pull out one of the cassettes from his glove compartment and pop it in, Metallica immediately filling the van. “So, I was thinking, food first, maybe milkshakes at Benny’s, then maybe park somewhere?” Eddie pulls the car out of the spot in the lot. “Sounds good to me.”

You pull up to Benny’s, immediately seeing the girl you’ve had a solid crush on for two years was working. “Eds, it’s her!” You practically slap your hand over his chest. “Holly shit- uh, do I look ok? Cute?” “Always.” Eddie’s smile was genuine, but you glare at him slightly, “I don’t want ‘always’ I need an opinion!” Eddie chuckles as he watches you step out of his car, straightening your dress. “Sweetheart, I feel like she’s not gonna care-“ “Shh, don’t ruin it.”

You both step into the diner, Eddie holding the door open for you. “Take a seat anywhere!” Her voice calls out. You both take a booth by the window, Eddie giving you the side that best angles you to always be able to see her. “You’re always so supportive and I love you for it.” He smiles at your admission. “Can’t do anything without my permission, Angel.” “I know.”

“Hi, I’m Chris, I’ll be your server,” the girl you practically drool over pulls out a pen and her serving note pad, “What can I get you both?” She asks, glancing at you first before Eddie. Eddie watches you, your eyes practically glittering and he tries not to laugh. “A double cheeseburger for me, please. No onions. Sparkle over there will have a short stake of chocolate chip pancakes, two scrambled eggs with cheese and a bowl of grits, butter and cheese in that too.” The girl, Chris, smiles at him, impressed he knows the girl across from him—you—so well. “And to drink?” She just looks to Eddie this time, “Two chocolate milkshakes, and two waters. She’ll also have a cup of coffee, vanilla creamer.”

You snap out of your gaze after she begins to walk away, “Wait, what? What happened?” “You spaced.” “What!?” You look over at him, “It’s ok, Angel, I ordered for you.” You give him a soft smile. “Oh yeah? What did you order me?” “You’ll see.”

When the food arrives to the table you practically have your mouth watering on the table at the array of food, especially thankful for the cup of coffee. “I love you, you take such good care of me.” You pretend to wipe a tear from your eye. “Hmm.”

As you both eat, Eddie randomly slaps his hand down on the table, then excessively taps it, not loud enough to grab the attention of others, just you. “Oh my-“ you look up at him and see he’s looking towards the door. You turn and see a young man walking in, his long hair and attire very similar to the boy sitting across from you. “Eddie, sweetie, you’re gay is showing.” You hold your straw as you take a sip of your shake, staring at your boyfriend. “Says the girl who drools over the waitress.” Eddie shoots back. You place your hand over your heart, “you wound me, Eds.”

“Is he cute? He’s cute. Shit.” Eddie’s cheeks suddenly turn red, making you laugh. “Now who’s drooling-” “I’m not drooling…!” Eddie blushes.

When you both finish your food, you get back in his van and he drives to a secluded spot, parking behind an abandoned shopping center that no one even drives by anymore. You sit there for a moment thinking about how to initiate, before your boyfriend quickly pulls himself through the seats and into the trunk of his van.

Eddie adjusts the blankets and pillows he shoved back there earlier that morning, watching as you squeeze yourself through the seats following him. He pulls you straight onto his lap, lifting your dress up so your thighs are exposed to his hands. “I love you,” his voice is soft, pulling you in and making you swoon. “I love you more,” you wrap your arms around his neck, leaving soft kisses on his lips before moving down his jaw and neck.

Eddie’s fingers grip tighter on your thighs, nails digging into the soft skin. You exhale a soft sigh. “You’re so fucking perfect,” Eddie speaks first, grinding your hips down on his crotch, “Want you so bad, been thinking about it all day.” You giggle softly, nuzzling your nose into his cheek as you enjoy the feeling of his growing tent in his pants.

“Yeah?” You ask, nibbling at his earlobe before pulling away. He groans, annoyed you stopped but glides his hands up under your dress. “I love that you wear dresses, I don’t care if it’s technically for your mom, it gives me the perfect access to you,” his hands massage the fat on your sides, digging his thumbs in your skin, “should take it off though, don’t wanna get it dirty.”

You grip the hem of your dress and pull it over your head, your bra now visible to him. He lifts his hands up your skin and cup his fingers around the garment. You look into his eyes as you watch him continue to stare at your body, his pupils blown, making his comforting brown eyes look black. You grab his vest and jacket and help him slide it off his arms, throwing them both to the side. He yanks off the Hellfire shirt before smashing his lips onto yours, kissing you with such passion.

He pulls back, shimmying down his pants while you quickly pull off your underwear. Before the fabric is even entirely off your legs, you’re pulled back onto his lap, your back facing him this time, you look down and immediately blush. His cock is perfectly placed between your thighs, the red tip sticking out and tapping against your stomach with every twitch. “E-Eddie,” you reach back and cup his head from behind you as he grips tightly at your hips, grinding you against his length, his shaft rubbing against your clit.

“Wanna grab us a condom from behind my seat?” He asks. You nod, pulling away from him and reaching down. Eddie swears he would do it raw if he could confirm you wouldn’t get pregnant, but your parents would never allow you on birth control. You grab one of the foils and climb back up against him, opening your legs so his cock is accessible and rolling the condom down. “Relax, Angel, I’ve got you,” he kisses your cheek before lifting your hips, his cock practically jumping to press against you.

You gasp as you’re slowly pulled down, your cunt sheathing his cock without much resistance. Before long, your ass presses back on his crotch, his length fully in you. “You ok?” He asks, hearing your breath picking up. You nod, but that’s not good enough for him. He reaches up and tilts your head back to him, making you look at him, “use your words, Baby.” “I’m ok.”

Before too long your feet are planted against the bed of his van, your hips moving up and down, up and down, as you bounce yourself on him. His hands grip tightly at your waist, his soft groans giving you praise as you try not to just cum on him. “Baby,” his voice pulls you back in, making you whimper. He lifts you off of him, before turning you back around, making you straddle his lap again before going back down. His hands move down your thighs, until one slopes just below your belly, his thumb finding your clit. You crumble at the sudden addition, your head falling to his shoulder.

Eddie loves watching his little Angel crumble because of him. Watching your body shake as your thighs clench, your hands balling into fists on his chest as you try your damn best not to explode, not wanting him to stop. “Come on, Angel,” he whispers into your ear, leaving small kitten licks over your lobe, “cum for me, Baby, need to feel you cum.”

His lips press to the corner of your mouth, “Come on, Baby girl, wanna feel you, need to feel you cum.” His fingers rub harder into your clit, making you moan. Before long you’re gasping as you cry, your boyfriend thrusting up into you as your body shakes. Eddie kisses your cheeks, nose and forehead as your thighs squeeze at his hips, your body releasing around him. “There we go, such a good girl, doing so good for me, Angel,” Eddie kisses your lips as you feel his thighs getting sticky from your arousal.

He shuffles, slowly and carefully laying you back in the bed of the van, onto a blanket with a couple pillows behind your head. He doesn’t leave you, careful to not disconnect your bodies. He climbs over you, pushing your legs out and around his waist. He kisses your hairline, slowly beginning to thrust into you. Your whimpers and moans fill the air around you, his hips moving slow at first before picking up pace.

You brush his hair away from his face before pulling him closer and kissing him, your lips moving in perfect sync. His fingers dig into your hips, holding you steady as he goes a little harder.

It doesn’t take long till you cum again, this time he fucks you through it even harder, not stopping or slowing. His groans sound so hypnotic, like a praise leaving his lips without actual words. He thrusts one final time, holding his hips hard against yours as you feel his cock twitch inside you, his face scrunching as he finishes into the condom.

Eddie drops down, his lips pressing to yours repeatedly, before pulling out. Your legs shakily drop to the floorboard, cunt clenching around nothing as you try to come down from your high. He pulls off the condom, ties it off before dropping it between the seats. He pulls up his jeans and boxers before slipping your underwear back up your legs. “You did such a good job, Angel,” Eddie kisses your eyelids, before leaving a soft kiss on your lips, “I’m so proud of you.”

You can’t stop yourself from blushing as he pulls you onto his chest, laying down with you in the blankets. He snuggles into your hair, kissing your head as you smile from his kisses. “You enjoy this too much,” you enquire, giggling a little when he kisses your nose. “I do, but it’s not my fault my girl is so beautiful when she’s coming down from an orgasm.” You roll your eyes, but not in an annoyed way, you enjoy his teasing.

You don’t know what got into you as you climb down the lattice outside your window. You were never a disobedient child growing up, but for some reason you still climb down one foot after the other, time reaching 8pm as you hit the ground.

You turn to see your beautiful curly haired boyfriend grinning ear to ear at you. “I can’t believe you’re actually doing this. I’m a bad influence on you.” You glare at him but don’t deny it, cause he is. “I didn’t know what to wear, so I hope you brought something for me to change into.”

Eddie smirks as he grabs your hand, pulling you down the street and to his parked van. He opens the back, showing the few t-shirts he brought from his closet. “Pick one. Any one.” He smiles at you. You grab one of them climbing into the back before he shuts the doors behind you.

You quickly pull off your frilly floral shirt, chunking it to the side of the van, before slipping the Metallica shirt over your head. It’s a little snug, but you don’t hate it. You quickly pull your hair up in a ponytail with the red scrunchy on your wrist.

Climbing to the front, Eddie already half way there to the bar, you sit yourself in the passenger seat, quickly pulling a lipstick you stuck in your pocket and pulling down the visor to see your reflection. You apply the red lipstick, a much deeper color than you usually wear.

Eddie glances over, watching you apply the makeup. He had to be careful with staring, picturing those now perfectly red lips smothering his cock with kisses, leaving lipstick all over his shaft-

“Eddie?” You call out to him, and he looks at you again for a quick second. “Yeah?” “I just remembered I’ve never met the guys.”

It’s true, you’ve been dating for maybe 6 months, but it’s entirely secret to people you both know personally. Eddie had asked you to come to the show tonight because he wants you to meet them. The guys: Gareth, Jeff, and Kevin. He wants you to attend Hellfire meetings, meet Dustin, the kid he practically took under his wing, have you attend his shows, meet his uncle. He doesn’t want you to be a secret anymore to his side of life.

“Then you’ll get to meet them.”

Eddie and you pull up to The Hideout Tuesday night. You’re nervous pick up as he parks the van. “Hey,” Eddie reaches over and grabs your hand, “I appreciate you wanna see me play, Angel. But if you’re uncomfortable, I can take you home.” You shake your head.

You’ve been looking forward to watching him play live for months, and nows your chance. Besides, he’s already snuck you out of your house, you might as well enjoy it.

Eddie opens the car door for you, helping you out of your seat before holding your hand as you walk inside through the back entrance.

You hear laughing and talking coming from around the corner, and before long you’re dragged into a room with three boys you recognize from classes. “Hey, guys.” Eddie greets them. They all turn to you both, the messy haired blond tilting his head first. “Who’s that?” He asks. Eddie looks at you, and you look at him, your eyes more nervous than his but his soft eyes comfort you.

“Angel,” he simply says. The guys stay silent for a moment, before gasping and running up closer. “Holly shit!” You know this one, Jeff from Chemistry, practically screams as he reaches for your hand, “You’re like a whole myth at our lunch table!” You blush as it dawns in you.

He talks about you. Eddie talks about you to his friends, he might not have told them who you were until this very moment, but god damnit, he talks about you.

“Eddie can’t shut up about his ‘Sweet Angel’ practically fawning over you every lunch period.” The blond follows. “Refuses to clean his shirt of lipgloss or lipstick before school just so we’ll ask about it. Fucking bastard.” The bigger guy slaps Eddie over the head.

“Hey, it’s not my fault, I mean look at her. Can you blame me?” Eddie is practically glowing, his smile bigger than you’ve even seen it, and that’s saying something. “Wait,” Jeff looks at you for a minute, squinting his eyes. “Chemistry right? You sit towards the front?” You nod, “yeah, Jeff right?” You smile at him. “Yeah, shit, almost didn’t recognize you. Not in your usual floral dresses tonight.” “Yeah, kinda not supposed to be out past 7,” you explain easily. “Your family goes to Franklin Baptist right?” You nod.

“Damn got yourself a religious girl, Eddie?” The blond snickers to himself. You glance up at Eddie before looking back at him. Jeff speaks before you can, “The asshole is Gareth, that’s Kevin.” He points to them respectively. “Nice to meet you, and no. I’m uh, actually atheist. Just… raised Christian.” You hold your hands together in front of you.

“Hey,” a guy pops his head in from a door heading out to the bar, “on in five.” He dips out before anyone replies. “Well,” Eddie turns to you and takes your hand holding it up to his lips, “how about you go out there and sit by the bar? Get some water or something, watch us play.” His lips press a soft kiss to your knuckles making you blush, “ok.”

You sit on one of the stools by the bar, a glass of water in hand as the announcer introduces the next band. “And up next to the stage is Corroded Coffin!” A couple people yell out, raising their glasses up in the air, but not too many.

Then they all step out, the cute guy you know so well with his guitar on his front, stepping up to the front mic with such grace. “How are we all doing tonight?” His voice booms through the room and a few people again holler out, “We are Corroded Coffin, and to start the night off good, Id like to dedicate this first song to the lovely girl in the Metallica shirt by the bar. Lookin’ good, Angel!” He gestures to Jeff who immediately starts his rhythm on the guitar, Gareth following soon after on drums.

Oh my.

“Mmm, yeah!” Eddie jumps in before letting them play a bit longer. Kevin joining in with his guitar.

No he’s not.

Then they all begin it. “Ha!” Eddie continues, and the guys follow with “Do do do dodo dodo do do, do do do dodo dodo!” They repeat it a couple times before Eddie jumps back in. “Tonight… I wanna give it all to you!”

Oh no he IS.

You feel your cheeks heat up, instantly closing your eyes as you try not to giggle. “In the daaarkness… there’s so much I want to do-o-o,” both Jeff and Gareth lean into their mics “And tonight,” all three of them sing before Eddie continues on his own, “I wanna lay it at your feet,” he points directly at you, stopping his own playing to continue with the next lyric, “‘cause, Girl, I was made for you, and girl, you were made for me!” Eddie can’t help his grin, watching you trying to not die from embarrassment in the corner, “Hit it!” He yells before all the guys jump in to continue the song.

“I was made for lovin’ you, Baby! You were made for loving me! And I can’t get enough of you, Baby! Can you get enough of me?”

You cover your face but peek out through your fingers as you watch them finish the rest of the song. You have to sit through the rest of the set, trying not to giggle to yourself after the choice of an opener.

When Eddie finally meets back up with you, nearly two hours later, you glare at him through your third glass of water, “I hate you.” Eddie chuckles before throwing his arm over your shoulders, kissing your forehead, “no you don’t. You love me.”

You take a deep breath, trying to make the redness in your face go away, still not over the first song of the show. “How long,” you look up at him, sitting your glass down on the counter, “have you had that planned?” “Uh,” Eddie looks over at the backstage door before turning back to you, “couple months.” His cheeks tint, obviously embarrassed by the admission. “Eds, I told you I wanted to come to the show three days ago,” you smile at him, “and I know damn well that’s not in your original set, I’ve seen the original set list, Eddie.” You can’t help the goofy grin that pulls at the corners of your mouth.

“Might have convinced the guys the day you told me to knock out the original opener to fit the one we practiced for you…” he admits. You laugh, a solid hearty laugh, not a giggle, not a chuckle, a full on laugh. A snort finds its way in, catching you off guard. Eddie joins in immediately after it happens, covering his mouth as he tries not to do the same.

You both laugh for a good minute, just cackling to yourselves as you try to calm down. When you finally catch your breath, you speak up first, “Those poor boys, you just tortured them for the last couple of days.” He nods, his hand on your arm as he holds his stomach, “yeah, they hated me the last few days.”

You didn’t stick around too long, not wanting to test your luck with your parents and your empty bedroom. You both walk out of the bar, his arm over your shoulder, both of you giggling as you press your hand into his chest.

“(Y/n)?” A deep voice makes you freeze. Your heart stopping as you refuse to look up. “(Y/n)?” Eddie looks over at the speaker, a man who looks so similar to you, but he’s older, at least 10 years. “Can I help you?” Eddie asks, his hand gripping tighter on your shoulder. You look up and there he is.

It’s happening again.

“Yeah, you can let go of my little sister, creep.” Logan, your oldest brother, glares at Eddie, his eyes sharp and narrow. Eddie slowly lifts his hand from your shoulder, obviously just not wanting to anger the guy who’s nearly twice his size. You sigh, “Logan, he’s fine.” You place your arms over your chest, gripping your arms tightly. Logan looks at you then back at Eddie, “why are you with this guy? Who is he?” Logan steps closer, still on edge.

You take a deep breath. Here we go.

“His name is Eddie,” you tell him, looking up at him, “he’s not a creep, he’s my boyfriend, Logan.” Logan hesitates for a moment, “boyfriend? Since when did you get a boyfriend? Mom and dad know?” He scoffs when you stay silent, “take that as a no,” he looks at Eddie, glancing over his form, his clothes, hair. He’s judging him.

“So what do you do? Besides take my underaged sister to a bar.” You roll your eyes at his question. “His band plays here every week. We didn’t drink, I had a couple glasses of water, Logan.” You glare at him, getting pissed off. Logan hums in response, looking Eddie up and down, “glad you are actually dating a guy,” he speaks, “mom’s gonna be pissed he’s not from church though.”

You think for a moment, then raise a brow, “Why are you here?” Logan hesitates but you speak again before he can reply, “It’s a bar, Logan, if you thought I was drinking but I’m underaged, what am I supposed to think about you? A guy of thirty-three, past the legal drinking age? What is mom gonna think about that?”

You don’t know what got into you. Maybe it was the way your boyfriend was will to embarrass you in front of a decent crowd, maybe how he talked about you to his friends even though your relationship was supposed to be secret. Maybe it’s how he didn’t falter in front of his friends, kept staying near you and showing you love and affection. Maybe it was just… Eddie.

You glance over at the brunette standing next to you, noticing how his eyes never leave your brother, nervous. Sweet Eddie. “Go tell mom.” You suddenly say, Logan looks at you a little shocked. “She was gonna have to find out eventually, at least now I can tell her that her perfect oldest son drinks. She might actually worry about you more than me.”

“Hmm,” Logan hums before continuing to make his way towards the door, stopping right next to you, “you go down, I go down too? I’ll hold you to that.” He makes his way into the bar.

You both drive back to your street with no further problems. Eddie parks his van a street down, turning off the headlights to not get any attention drawn to you both.

“So…” Eddie mumbles out, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel, “That was interesting.” You scoff lightly, leaning your head back on the headrest. “I swear, if he rats me out, he’s done for.” Your voice sounds more joking than anything, but you aren’t. “Mom hates alcohol that much?” He chuckles a bit, leaning back against his own seat and looking over at you, a small smile on his lips. “Oh completely. My parents are Baptist, Eds, alcohol is a sin to them, they refuse to even have it in the house.” “Didn’t Jesus like… turn water into wine?” You shrug, “who knows why, I’ve questioned that my entire life.”

“Logan is the oldest, right?” You nod, “yep, fifteen years older than me,” you look over and smile at him. “You mentioned once you didn’t know your brothers that well growing up,” Eddie reaches over and grabs your hand. You take a deep sigh, “yeah, since I was born when Logan was fifteen, Noah, my other brother,” you give his hand a squeeze, “the middle kid, was ten. I was an accident, not planned.”

He runs his thumb over the back of your hand, listening to you. “You know how Christians are, against abortion and all. I was closest to Noah growing up, but even that felt more like a babysitter, not a brother. Logan acts like my brother now that I’m older, but when we were kids, he was just…” you stop, raising his hand up to your lips, placing a soft kiss on his fingers. Eddie moves his hand, letting it cup around your face.

“Angel,” Eddie calls out to you, making you look at him, “It’s gonna be ok.” He gives you a soft smile, which you return. “I love you.” The words slip out of your lips naturally, little butterflies in your stomach.

You don’t know why. You’ve said those words to each other hundreds of time already, but for some reason it feels… different. It’s not just a quick phrase, a sentimental thing you say to make you and him feel good. You mean it. With all of your heart. You love him.

Eddie’s smile grows a bit bigger, “I love you.” His beautiful chocolate brown eyes gaze at you with such love you feel it. You know he means it with everything he has. You could stare at those eyes all day, hopefully one day you can.

In the morning, you sit with your family at breakfast. Your mother plates everyone food, which you help her set the table. “Oh, darling, set up a fourth setting,” your mother instructs you, “Logan is going to be here any minute.” “What?” You turn quickly to her, a tinge of discomfort in your stomach. “Logan. He’s going to be joining-“ The door bell rings.

Oh shit.

“I’ve got it!” Your father gets up and goes to answer the door, “Logan, good to see you, son!” Your oldest brother steps inside the house, hugging your father. “Hey, Pops,” Logan departs from the front door, entering the dinning space, where you stand and your mother brings out some plates and sits them down on the table. “Logan!” Your mother smiles, quickly pulling her oldest child into a hug.

“Hey, Momma, thanks for having me such short notice,” he smiles, parting from her before turning to you, “Hey, (y/n).” He holds out his arms, and you hesitate before hugging him. You don’t want to tip off your mom.

After everyone has a plate at their seat and the table is decorated in platters of pancakes, eggs, grits, and so much more, Momma really went all out, you all take your seats. “So, Logan dear,” your mom smiles at her pride and joy of a child, “we heard about Susan from Cindy at church. Why didn’t you tell us?” You look between your mother and brother, a little confused.

You know Susan, that’s Logan’s wife. You met her a couple times, a little grossed out because she is 23, closer to your age than to Logan’s. You know Cindy to be a gossip at church, her spreading the ‘rumor’— as your mother referred to it—of you kissing Sarah all those years ago.

“What happened with Susan?” You ask, making your mother to turn to you. “She was found sneaking around with Gabriel a couple months ago, apparently the affair has been going on for a year. Your brother here,” she points to Logan, “requested an annulment for the marriage with the state and church because of the adultery.” You can tell from her raising voice she’s furious about the whole affair.

“It was approved last week.” Logan informs you all, “She signed the papers only a couple days ago, no arguments made. I’m letting her keep the house, so I’m gonna get an apartment close by, so thought I’d come visit for a couple days while looking.” Your mother practically gasps with glee at the news, “So you’re gonna be closer to home? How wonderful!”

That’s the last thing you need, another set of eyes out in public watching out for you.

“Isn’t… divorce a sin…?” You ask, not trying to incriminate your brother, not at all, just genuinely confused as to why your mother would allow it, or even be happy about it. “Technically,” your father speaks, your mother finishing for him, “But only without proper cause. That whores affair is proper enough.” You nearly chock on your juice as your mother’s phrasing.

“Momma!” You yell at her, staring at her utterly shocked, “You can’t just-“ “Why not? She cheated on my baby with someone inside the church!” Your father just nods along. You look over at Logan, he’s nearly just as shocked as you are.

“You shouldn’t call her that, Momma,” Logan takes a sip from his coffee, recovering from the display, “She was still my wife.” Your mother looks a little hurt from his intervention, sagging back into her chair as if she’s a toddler being told they have to eat their veggies.

“Your mother is allowed to be upset, Logan,” your father speaks out, looking up at your brother, “just like (y/n) can speak her mind, and you can speak yours.”

Such bullshit. Your opinions never mattered growing up, do they suddenly now because you’re older?

“I need to head out to school,” you explain, standing up and taking your plate. You clean off the dish in the sink, before walking by the table again, hugging your mother and kissing your father’s cheek. “I’ll see you later today.”

The next few days are uneventful, just back and forth with school, your mother bickering you about your future, and your perfect brother hogging the bathroom. Until Saturday.

You sit in your room, changing out of your day clothes and grabbing the nightgown from the basket of clean clothes. The warm air from the weather comes in through your open window, perfectly creating that warmer atmosphere.

“I’d say keep it off.” You jump back from the sudden words spoken out, your eyes immediately darting to the window where your metal head dork of a boyfriend sits halfway in. “You scared me, Eddie…!” You whisper, “you shouldn’t be here, everyone is probably still awake.” He just shrugs at your warning.

“So who’s the car outside? It’s not your dad’s and your mom doesn’t have one herself,” he asks, moving in closer to you, pulling your nightgown from your hands and pulling you to him, your bare chest pressing to his t-shirt. “It’s Logan’s, you dingbat. And if he sees you here he might not be so keen on keeping you a secret.”

“Eh, I’ll be out before anyone notices. Though I should really teach you a thing of two about actual creeps,” he kisses your cheek, his hands pressing to your back, “maybe then you’ll learn to shut your window when you’re changing.” You roll your eyes, “you’re a jerk, Munson.” He chuckles, pushing you back onto your bed, immediately pushing at your knees to frame your legs around his waist, laying into you. “A jerk? Me?” He kisses you softly before traveling little kisses down your neck, “A tease maybe, but never a jerk, Angel.”

Your breathing gets heavy as he moves down your chest, cupping one breast in his hand before taking the other into his mouth. “Eds,” you blush, gripping at his shoulders as his cold fingers graze over your nipple. “Hmm?” “My…” you can’t help but feel your panties start getting wet, “my brother is home, and my family is still awake- mm!” You bite your lower lip, muffling the soft moan that leaves you when his teeth bite down on your hard bud.

“You can be quiet,” Eddie smirks, pulling away from your torso, “Don’t you wanna be a good girl? Be quiet for me?” You hate how he knows that shit works.

He pushes your throw pillows off your bed, pulling back the covers. “Don’t be too loud or we’ll be found, ok?” He goes lower under the sheets, right where you want him, pulling your underwear down your legs. You cover your mouth as you feel his tongue glide across your core, his fingers brushing your folds out of the way. Two digits break your entrance, making you whimper as you grab his long curls with your free hand. “E-Eds…!” You try to be quiet, your body reacting quickly to his actions.

“Go on, let it out, Angel.” His approval sends you over the edge way too soon, your thighs squeezing his head as you finish, gasping for air. Eddie leaves little kitten licks before pulling away from you. “I’m proud of you,” he leans up and kisses your neck, the smell of you very prominent on his lips. “Oh?” You lean into his kisses, just letting him do as he pleases, “why is that?”

“You may have mentioned how people are home or they’re awake, but you haven’t looked at that door once, Angel.” He smiles down at you. And he’s right, you haven’t.

Sure you’ve mentioned worry, but there is no real fear this time. Your body is completely reacting only to Eddie, sweet Eddie. Your Eddie.

“I haven’t have I?” You smile back at him, not even looking now, even though it’s been pointed out to you, “Maybe you’re a bad influence.” Eddie smiles, placing a quick kiss to your lips before stripping himself down bare, fisting himself a little once finished. “Don’t know what you think you’re doing with that without-“

Eddie digs into his jacket pocket before throwing it down and pulls out a condom, holding it up to your face. “I come prepared, my lady, no need to worry.” You hum in response, watching him rip open and roll on the condom. Once it’s on, he quickly holds at your thighs, taking no time to slowly push himself deep into you.

“Not gonna lie, Angel,” he sighs as his cock bottoms out, “I’ve been looking forward to ducking you into your white sheets for months.” You blush as he starts to move, a soft moan leaving you as his hips roll into yours. “Could fuck this pussy all day, like a fucking drug,” he kisses your cheek. You bite your lip trying to not moan, but each thrust presses that perfect spot as he knows your body just all too well.

“Eddie…” you whimper out his name, your ankles crossing behind his back. His thrusts stay slow, sensual, easing you into it as the knot already forms in your stomach. He’s gonna be the death of you one day.

He lays his head on your shoulder, tilting it downward so he can watch the place your bodies intersect, watching his cock thrust in and out of you achingly slow. “Eddie, please,” you mutter out a beg, wanting him to pick up speed, to just put you out of your misery, but he doesn’t. “Not yet, baby girl,” he kisses you once, twice, three time before staring down at you, “gonna fuck you nice a slow, watch you get sensitive before letting you finally cum.”

He does this for a good thirty minutes, making you get testy as you cling to him, wanting him to just fuck you harder. “Eddie, please.” He picks up the pace, thrusting his hips into you a little harder. You gasp, the feeling sending you so close to your climax you have to fully concentrate to not finish. “Eds..!” You grip at his shoulders.

“Go on, Baby, cum for me.” You do, harder than you’ve ever before. Your eyes water, thighs clenching around his hips as you let out the most erotic sounds. After that it only takes him a few more thrusts before he’s whimpering out an orgasm of his own, hiding his face in your hair.

You stay like that for a moment, just both catching your breath. After a few minutes he pulls away, tying the condom and dropping it in the trash can under your desk. He slips back on his boxers before climbing back onto the bed, it shifts under his weight. You turn over to him as he lays next to you, pulling the covers over you both.

“I really enjoyed that.” You speak first, pulling the pillow under your head closer. Eddie smiles at you, his body fully turned in your direction, laying on his side. His hand lifts and pushes a few loose strands of your hair behind your ear, “Yeah?” To which you nod. “I did do,” he follows up.

You feel your cheeks heat up as you hide your face into the pillow, feeling butterflies flutter around in your stomach. “Like, I really liked that,” you hope the tone expresses what you mean. You didn’t just like it, you loved it.

Eddie can’t stop the corners of his mouth from lifting, watching you hide your face, your ears turning red from your flush. He leans over and places a soft kiss against your hair. “I really liked that, too,” he emphasizes the same word and you groan as you curl into your blankets more, making him chuckle.

“Angel,” his hand presses against your bare back, his warm fingers running up and down your bare skin. It’s not sexual, just soft, comforting, like home. “I love you, so fucking much,” his voice falters a bit, immediately gravitating your attention. You snap your head up, seeing his eyes looking so soft, so loving. It makes you wanna cry.

But you don’t, taking in a shaky breath as you shift closer to him, pressing your head against his chest. “I love you, Eddie Munson. So much.” You nuzzle your face into his skin, your hands making their way around his torso, pushing him to lay on his back with you on top of him. “You make me so happy,” you mumble, leaving a couple kisses against his bare chest.

Then your door opens. The creaking of the hinges the first thing you hear before it’s followed with “Darling, do you have-“ your mother’s head pops into the doorframe, your whole world crashing as she makes direct eye contact with you.

The door bursts open, the knob banging into the wall loudly, making you jump. “Momma!” You yell out, pulling the blankets up your shoulders. She does say anything, which is somehow scarier. She just stomps farther in, gripping her fists around your powder blue comforter before yanking it back. Thankfully, Eddie sees this about to happen before you do, and grips tighter at the sheets underneath to keep you just covered.

“What in the hell is this!?” Your mother’s voice booms out, your eyes shutting tight as you flinch at her loud voice. “Momma-“ “No. Don’t ‘Momma’ me! I knew we were being too easy with you! Honey!” She walks back out, stomping her feet angrily, calling out to your father, as she makes her way down the stairs.

You both scurry out of the bed, your heart racing, “no no no no!” You quickly snatch your underwear off the floor slipping them on and following with your nightgown, Eddie doing the same with his jeans and tee. “This is so bad, this is really bad…!” You follow after her as quickly as possible, Eddie following after you.

You reach the bottom of the stairs, booking it into the dining room where your mother is already telling your father, “Momma, please, just listen-!” You feel your eyes watering, genuinely terrified as to what will happen next. “You’re… tramp of a daughter had a boy-” Eddie enters the room and your mother gestures to him aggressively, as if his presence fuels her anger more, “this boy in her room! I found them entangled together!” Your mother looks absolutely mortified.

“Please just let me explain!” You quickly cut in, looking at your father with those little doe eyes you know he can’t deny. Your father sighs, glancing at your mother then back at you then his gaze shifts to behind you, at Eddie. “Explain.” Your mother scoffs at him, “There’s nothing to explain! He’s ruined her! I can’t have another scandal with this family! Logan is already dealing with his divorce!” Your mother’s voice shakes with rage, you can feel her blood boiling from where you stand, “What will the church think?”

Your father sighs. “Sweetheart,” his eyes set on you, the same ones that used to calm you as a child, “Who is this boy?” You hesitate but straighten up your posture, glad to be given the chance. “Daddy,” you reach other to Eddie and grab his arm, pulling him forward, “This is Eddie, he’s my boyfriend.” Your mother lets out a cold laugh at this, but says nothing.

Your father takes a deep breath but before he can speak, a voice draw the attention of everyone in the room. “Oh, hey, Eddie? Good to see you again, man.”

Logan steps into the room, walking straight up to Eddie, taking his hand in his own and shaking it. “I didn’t know you were meeting everyone tonight.” He looks over at you, obviously a little confused.

“I-“ Eddie goes to speak, but your mom interrupts him. “I found him in your sister’s room, Logan. In her bed!” Logan tries not to show any drastic emotions to this news, but you catch his eye twitch. “Ah, yeah I can see where you’d consider that a problem,” he rubs the back of his neck.

“You know this boy, son?” Your father asks, pointing to Eddie, but his eyes fixed on your brother. “Yeah,” Logan speaks, looking at you one more time before shifting his gaze to your nervous boyfriend, “met him a while ago, he’s a good kid.” He pats Eddie’s shoulder. “Found out he was dating (y/n) not too long ago. They make a cute couple don’t they?” He smiles at you.

Your father looks Eddie over, “You believe in God, boy?” “Yes, sir.” Eddie speaks up decently fast, not taking any chances, but you know damn well his belief is questionable. Then the older man looks back at you, his eyes physically softening.

Your father’s always had a sweet spot for you, getting defensive when your mother would beat you for stupid things. You’re his ‘god’s blessing,’ probably the only person in this house to feel that way. And that’s what made you favor him over your mother.

“Does he treat you right? Doesn’t hit you or anything?” You smile at him, “No, sir, he’s kind and sweet. Treats me well.” You keep it simple and straight to the point. He looks back over at Eddie before continuing, “Do you love ‘em?” “Ha!” Your mother laughs, “love him? Honey, she doesn’t know-” “Yes.” You cut her off, your arms squeezing tighter on Eddie’s, “love him with all my heart, Daddy.”

Your father sighs. “If Logan thinks he’s good enough I don’t see why we should have a problem with him.” Your mother squeaks, flabbergasted by your father’s words, “because he was in her bed? This is a Christian household! I will not let a teen pregnancy tarnish this family!” “You use condoms?” The question was directed at Eddie this time, making you both flush red. “Y-Yes, sir.” “Then that’s that.” Your father stands, coming over and patting Eddie on the shoulder, “nice to meet you, Eddie,” before walking out of the room, your mother chasing after him.

You, Eddie, and Logan all stand there for a moment, a little shook after the very direct question. Logan speaks first, turning to you both. “You two are fucking stupid.” He speaks through his teeth, but he’s not angry, he’s trying not to laugh, “my God, really? At home? Come on.” He lets out a soft chuckle. “I better get something from that talk, cause Jesus save me, that was awful.” “I’ll get you a free drink at the Hideout,” Eddie follows quietly, which you just look at him. “Deal. After that shit show, I’ll fucking need it, but that’s just your payment,” Logan turns to you, “you owe me, kid. Jesus, now you know why I drink.”

Tag list:

@cagethemunson @spikeybatt @cherrycolas-things

@r-a-d-i-0-n-0-w-h-e-r-e

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corrodedcoffins-blog · 3 months

Text

Thinkin' Nonsense

older!rockstar!eddie x popstar!reader

note: also hope y'all are legally blonde fans (and in case your not, brooke windham when questioned why she was with an older man said "then show them a picture of his dick" that will be important later)

warning: smut! oral (f! and m! receiving), p in v, slut shaming

word count: 2.5k

After doing nothing in bed with Eddie, all day yesterday, Y/n insisted on going out and walking the streets of Paris. And with the new found security in their relationship, the couple didn’t mind if they were seen, wanting to for now on embrace their relationship.

“We should go to a bakery!.. That one!” pulling Eddie, with their conjoint hands, towards the first place she saw that had baked goods in the window. Guessing since it was a bakery right in the middle of a tourist area, there was a long line, Eddie standing behind Y/n with his hands around her shoulders.

“Why are you standing behind me? I can't see you.” Y/n said, craning her neck back leaning on Eddie’s chest to see his face. Eddie brings his lips to the girl’s ear, lowering his voice to say, “‘Cause you're wearing a short skirt, and I don’t want the guy behind me staring at your ass this whole time.” The man replied, very smugly, causing Y/n to laugh softly.

At the sound of the couple laughing the older man in front of them, a little younger than Eddie, turns just to glance at the two but at seeing Eddie does a double take to make sure he was seeing right.

“Hey, you’re Eddie Munson!” He said, turning around to fully face the couple. “Yeah. I am.”

“Bill, huge fan. I love your music.” “Thanks so much.” Throughout the whole conversation, Eddie never moved from his position behind Y/n, causing the fan to realise she was even there. Giving the woman a once over taking in her tight clothing and her age.

“So it’s true, you’re dating a 20-year-old slut?”

Y/n is no stranger to being called a slut, but even at her lowest time, never to her face with no shame. Instantly her crave for the baked goods were gone, just wanting to get out of there. Hot tears started to leak out of her eyes, thank god she wore waterproof mascara.

“Don’t you fucking dare talk to her like that.” Eddie muttered, jaw clenched, walking towards the easily 6’5” man. Yet he didn’t get far as Y/n grabbed Eddie’s arm to pull him away and closer to her, whispering in his ear as she continues to walk out of the bakery, “Eds, let’s go.”

“God, I’m so sorry, angel.” “It’s not your fault. It’s okay." "It's not okay.” Eddie didn't rest on that too long, knowing that Y/n's spirits needed to be lifted.

“I hope you didn’t pull me away cause you thought I couldn’t take him.. ‘Cause I could.” He always said the right thing when it came to Y/n, his comment causes her to laugh and say, “I’m sure you could, Eds.”

The man brings his hand around the woman’s waist, moving down to hold the bottom of her ass remembering her short skirt, turning his face towards her to see her face when he gives her a small squeeze, continuing their conversation by mumbling “I probably would’ve had to go easy on him too.” “I know.” “Cause I can fight.” “Yes, you can.” “And-”

That night was Y/n first night in Paris, and of course with Eddie now in Paris he came to see the show. So here he was sitting in a dressing room, a place he hasn’t been in a while, watching his girlfriend get ready to perform to a sold out theatre. Y/n was sitting at the vanity, her makeup girl just left and Y/n was just putting on the final touches like lip gloss and fixing her bangs.

Looking at Eddie in the mirror she says, “What are you staring at, creepy?” At this Eddie comes up behind the girl’s chair leaning down to kiss her neck, “Can’t help but stare at my beautiful girl.” The older man says, making moves to kiss the girl’s lips, before she stops him with a finger on his mouth. With Eddie’s shocked face Y/n explains, “You’ll mess up my lipgloss.” “Screw your lipgloss!” Eddie replies, bringing his lips slowly to hers, never wanting to push a boundary if she was serious but he was positive she said that just to get a reaction from him. And Eddie was right, at the sound of Y/n soft laughter Eddie’s lips crashed into the girl’s, moving together and it being Eddie it didn’t take long for him to slip his tongue past Y/n’s soft and gorgeous pink lips. Yet of course a knock breaks up their make-out sesh, hearing a faint yet loud yell from Y/n stage manager, “On in 5!”

Eddie lets out a small groan at the interruption, giving Y/n a kiss on the cheek while leaning out of the kiss. After Y/n fixes the lipgloss they ruined, she walks out to the wings, “Bye baby!” The woman said, smiling. “Good luck, Angel. I love you.” “I love you too.” “I’ll see you after. Break a leg!” Eddie yells behind him, rushing to his seat to catch the opening song.

“I just have to say before this next song,” Y/n says into the mic, out of breath, looking at all the faces in the crowd, “You guys, this crowd, giving so much energy and I feel so comfortable with you guys. You’re just the best!” She pauses slightly, letting the crowd clap and scream before continuing, “So I don’t know if you’ve ever experienced playing at a sold out theatre.” The beat to the next song starts playing, “But when that happens you sing them this!”

“Think I only want one number in my phone”

The whole song Eddie could pry his eyes away from Y/n, her dancing was so sexy and memorising, and her stage presense was something Eddie hadn’t seen in years. And god, her short skirt flying up at her dancing, made his half hard dick twitch in his pants.

“This song catchier than chicken pox is

I bet your house is where my other sock is

Woke up this morning thought I'd write a-” “Pop hit!”

“How quickly can you take your clothes off?” “Pop quiz!”

“Everyone online has been so pressed,

But boy when I’m with you I feel so blessed,

You know me but Brooke Windham said it best.”

The last line being followed with Y/n infectious laugh. Of course Eddie knew what that line was referring to, Isla had made him watch that movie a million times. But what really killed him was that he had to wait five more minutes before he could lock himself and Y/n in her dressing room and fuck her brains out.

As Y/n finish the last song, waving and blowing kisses to the crowd, she starts walking to the wings and begins running, seeing Eddie waiting for her. Jumping into his arms, legs going around his waist, the man’s hands coming down to Y/n’s ass to steadily hold her up. With that Y/n’s lips collide with her man’s, this time it being her slipping her tongue in first. Unbeknownst to the couple that the fans diagonal to them filming the interaction. Something Isla will no doubt see later, and tease him about.

Breaking the kiss and lowering his voice, not knowing if anyone could hear them, “Oh I can’t wait to fuck you tonight.”

In the limo, the lobby, the elevator, never once do their lips leave each other; granted they weren’t making out in the lobby, but Eddie did kiss all the way from Y/n’s neck down to the tips of her fingers and back. Now with the woman against the door, being pinned by Eddie’s body, his hands searching both Y/n and his own pockets for their room key, his lips kissing and suckling on the spot Eddie had found a while back to be when she’s most reactive. Now she’s trying to silence the moans she can’t but let out, worried someone is going to hear.

“I’m starting to think- ahh- that you're taking your sweet time to find that key cause you want to get caught.” “Maybe.” The man says, only breaking away for a second, not being able to bear his lips not on her body when they could be.

“Ah-ha!” Eddie yells, grabbing the keys from the breast pocket of Y/n’s coat. Opening the door without warning, causing Y/n to fall back slightly before Eddie catches her, picking up the girl, letting the door shut behind them and tossing his girl on their hotel bed and crawling on top of her, leaving soft loving kisses up her thighs and stomach, “Gonna be my good girl, angel?” Eddie mumbles against the flesh of her breast, bringing his knee to press against her wet cunt, through the fabric of her panties, causing a moan to cut off Y/n before she could answer. “Not a good start. Can’t even answer my question, you're so desperate.”

“No! Sorry, I’ll be so good!” “There she is, that’s my good girl.”

Slowly Eddie reaches to slip off Y/n top layers, which causes his knee to press farther into between her legs, making the girl clench around seemingly nothing and let out a small whimper. “Did I do something, baby?” Eddie asks, knowing damn well what he did on purpose. With her top half now fully off, Eddie moves his knee, crawling down the girl’s body, stopping when his face is above her cunt, leaving a gentle kiss on the wet spot. Linking his fingers in the waistband of her skirt, soft muttering, “Lift your hips, angel.” before pulling down the girl’s skirt and her underwear along with it. Eddie now finally seeing his love bare after all day of being apart, he leaves short but loving kisses on the surrounding area.

“Hi, my love.” Eddie says before diving head first into his girl’s beautiful cunt. Y/n not even being able to process that fact Eddie called her pussy his love, before she’s a whining mess, “Eds more, baby more!” Pulling at Eddie’s long curls to bring his face deeper into her doesn’t seem to work as the man leans away from ‘his love’ saying, “Angel, don’t be a desperate little thing. Use your manners.” Quite frankly Y/n was more desperate than ever to have Eddie’s mouth back on her, yelling, “Please, baby more! Please Eds!” “Okay, hun.” Y/n’s legs snap around Eddie’s head at the feeling of his mouth back to where she needed him, lapping at her sodden hole, dragging his tongue from there to the girl’s clit, and bringing to suck and lick at the swollen bud. The woman below him let out loud moans, as if there was no one else in the world.

“Eds I’m gonna- fuck! Don’t stop!” “I know, Angel, I know. Let go, my love” Eddie says, his face not pulling away from her pussy for a second. And with his last words, she did. Completely letting go, Eddie never stopping, wanting to suck up every last bit of her.

The loud suckle of Eddie drinking up Y/n’s cum filled the air. Y/n hands quickly try to push Eddie’s head away from her cunt, “Ah- Eds ‘s sensitive.” “I know, baby. Just tastes so good.” “But I wanna taste you now.” She says, leaning up on her elbows only for Eddie to push her back down onto the bed standing to take off his shirt and pants, giving Y/n a small strip tease rocking his hips back and forth, causing Y/n to laugh. The man then crawls back up the girl's body to join their backs, in a heated kiss before breaking away to say, “You can taste me later, promise.” “Promise?” “100% don’t have to convince me.”

Grabbing his cock in his hand, pumping himself, before dragging his tip through the girl’s folds, gathering her wetness, lining himself up with Y/n’s sodden hole, “Ready, angel?” “God, yes!”

Without another word Eddie pounds himself into Y/n, not even giving her a second to adjust, fucking her through the uncomfort and sensitiveness from her previous orgasm. “Oh! Eddie, you feel so good!” “Yeah? How good, baby?” “So good, the best! Fuck! You're the best I’ve ever had!” “Thank you, angel. You’re just as sweet as you taste.”

Holding her thighs, while continuing to pound into Y/n, Eddie starts folding the girl’s legs up to her chest, increasing his pace. Their new position causes Eddie to be able to reach deeper inside her, repeatedly hitting her g-spot with every thrust.

“Fuck! I’m gonna cum- Eds I’m gonna-” “I know- shit. Me too, angel. Hold it for me, wanna cum with you.” “Can’t-” With Eddie’s continuing thrusts, Y/n can feel her second orgasm coming, “Eddie! I can’t-” “Know you can, angel. Love when you say my name.” With one last thrust, cuming deep inside her. “Let go, angel.” “Oh! Fuck! I love you!”

Coming down from both they’re highs, Eddie gently lets go of Y/n’s legs allowing them to fall back down onto the bed, Eddie falling to the girl’s side exhausted, “I love you too.”

After only a few moments, Y/n turns her body on her side to face Eddie, the man turning his head to see her, “You want to go again?” Y/n’s excitement causes Eddie to laugh, not only that but the fact that she is perfectly fine and he’s completely worn-out. Moments like these really showed their age gap.

“What? What’s so funny?” The girl says, not understanding his laughter, “You’re not dating some young 20-somthing year old, I’ll need a sec before I get back on the horse.” “And I’m the horse?” “In the metaphor, yes.” “Then why don’t I get on the horse?” Y/n asks, tracing the tattoos on Eddie’s chest, resting her chin on his shoulder. “Please baby, wanna ride you.”

Just to be a pain, Eddie rolls his eyes and grabs Y/n’s thighs to bring her on top of him. Boldly Y/n grabs Eddie’s cock pumping him a few times, to get him hard again and once he is, Y/n rises on her knees to line herself up with Eddie. Sitting down, letting herself adjust for only a second, only to immediatly start bouncing on Eddie’s cock.

Throwing her head back, moaning, never looking so beautiful to Eddie. He reaches up tweeking the girls nipples, pulling at and moving between his index and thumb. Bringing his hands to her back, pulling Y/n down slightly to be able to suck at her nipples. Leaving hickies on her underboob in his wake, bringing his lips to her nipples and swirling his tongue around the hard bud. Moving one hand to massage Y/n’s other breast, and the otheer to his girl’s clit making small tight circles, “Shit- Eddie!” Continuing to bounce on the man’s cock, a moaning mess, using all her strength.

“C’mon angel, cum for me.” It only takes a few more moments before the couple was cuming together. Y/n leaned down laying on Eddie��s chest, his arms encircling the girl, cradling her head, his cock still inside her. “I love you.” “I love you more.” “Not possible, angel.”

“Did you refer to my pussy as ‘my love’?”

~taglist~

@whoscamila @mystargirl-interlude @creoleguurl @witchwolflea @kissmejoey @taylorswiftsloverfr @random000000sblog

#eddie munson #older!rockstar!eddie x popstar!reader #older!rockstar!eddie #older!eddie munson #older!eddie x reader #older!eddie #older eddie munson #older!dilf!eddie munson #older!eddie fluff #rockstar!eddie munson x reader #rockstar!eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson x female reader

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quixoticall · 3 months

Text

18+ mdni IN-UNIVERSE REQUESTS ARE OPEN

STRANGER THINGS

LOOK AT US NOW A Daisy Jones and the Six!AU told in 4 separate installments that reveal the never-before-told story of how the legendary 80s band The Downsides broke up 16 years after their mysterious split at the height of their success.

What to expect: Love Triangles, Fake Relationship, Enemies to FWB to Lovers, Band!AU, Partially told in interview format, smut in later chapters, slow burn, lots of drama, two separate timelines, Guitarist!Eddie Munson, Lead singer!Steve Harrington, characters who have a hard time accepting they deserve love, secrets, rockstar!reader, sex, drugs and rock and roll

Pairings: Eddie Munson x f!reader, Steve Harrington x f!reader, Nancy Wheeler x Jonathan Byers, Nancy Wheeler x Robin Buckley, Eddie Munson x Chrissy Cunningham

PLAY TAPE ONE: THIS COULD GET UGLY

VIEW BETWEEN VILLAGES: A collection of one shots inspired by School Spirit in which Steve Harrington offers to become your ghostly guide to the spiritual world after your mysterious death but you can't quite leave the world of the living alone.

What to expect: lots of angst, prose, reflections on death, Steve being a golden retriever even in death, Best friend!Eddie Munson, ghost!gang, found family

Pairings: Steve Harrington x f!reader, one sided!Eddie Munson x f!reader

READ PART ONE: VIEWS

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abibliophobiaa · 1 year

Note

Comfort (smut is ok too)

I havent laughed like this in a long time

Forced proximity

Eddie munson

🌛🌜

thank you for your sweet request. had a lot of fun with this one. little ex-lovers to lovers again with rockstar!eddie ahead. warnings: mentions of alcohol and 18+, minors dni for p in v sex. || 2k words

You don’t mean to bump into your ex boyfriend at the bar. You’re meant to meet up with a date—someone your roommate, Robin, had set you up with. Said it was a friend from her undergrad program, that he was great and was a high school history teacher. Only he’s not here now, hasn’t shown up and it’s been well over an hour. Which is a shame, truly, because he sounded safe; vastly different from the man actually sitting before you now, twirling the ice round and around within his glass.

And it’s not that Eddie isn’t safe, it’s just that he’d gone off on tour nearly a year ago and it rocked the foundations of your relationship to the core. He asked you to come. Through teary goodbyes as he climbed onto the tour bus all those months ago, he asked you once more. Begged for you to come, to embark on this new journey, to be there. But you were studying, working on your graduate degree, and he understood. He’s always understood, and though it pained him he climbed on that bus all the same and told you you’d make it work.

For a bit…it did.

You enjoyed the random flowers he’d have sent to your apartment, the gifts that would arrive at your doorstep on your birthday and other holidays, the phone sex when the guys had long gone to bed for the night.

But eventually, all things change.

Phone conversations became sparse, conversation heavy and limited, spoken through whatever crappy phone booth he could come across on the road. You reminded yourself on those hard days that he always promised nothing would change, that time and space couldn’t take away what the two of you shared, but it changed you.

You suggested it one day. Taking time apart. You with tests coming up, him with the constant late nights. You weren’t connecting like you once did, you told him, and winced when you heard his shaky exhale on the other line. It breaks you to break him, because if there’s one thing Eddie Munson has always been, it’s giving. You could ask for the moon and he’d wrangle that and the stars for you. He’d do anything to make you smile, to see you happy, to let you know just how honestly and truly loved you were.

So he granted you that. Told you he loved you enough to let you go and hung up the phone on the receiver. It had been four months since that day. Four months of wondering what he’s doing, what he’s been up to. Four months of capturing his face in a magazine at a newsstand on your way home from work in the bustling streets of New York City. You bought them every time. Flipped through the colorful pages and traced the features you knew like the back of your hand, if only just to see him in some limited capacity.

It’s nothing like having him across from you now. There’s never been anything really to encompass the punch to your gut that’s an inevitability when those amber eyes dart your way.

“Can I sit here?” he asks, and he’s already sitting when you finally nod. “You alone?”

“I was supposed to be meeting up with someone.” He flinches at your honesty and nods. His dark hair dances along his black leather jacket, thumb running along his bottom lip as you continue eagerly, “What are you doing here?”

“Playing a concert tomorrow, as you know. We had the day off today.” He pauses at your frown. “You got the tickets I sent you, didn’t you?”

“I did,” you admit, remembering that they’re on the fridge back at your apartment. You’d been shocked when he sent them. Had meant to reach out…just hadn’t yet. “I’m going, if that’s what you’re wondering. With Robin.”

“Good.” He chuckles, mouth drawn into a smile that shows his dimples. “Your date is an ass, you know—for, uh, standing you up.”

You offer him a pleasant smile, twirling your own drink in front of you as you say, “I’m enjoying my company just fine.”

It’s as easy as breathing, the two of you falling back into conversation. You suppose that’s the nature of a friendship forged when you’re kids, and a romantic relationship that only came later. But you fall back into step like old friends and lovers, catching up on the months lost, of the guys in the band, your happenings in school, how Robin is doing. You talk about Hawkins and how Steve visited with the kids last weekend. And before long you’re walking back to your apartment, bubbles of excitement dancing in your belly at the prospect of spending more time with Eddie.

“You sure you want me to come back?” he asks, all boyish grins and fingers toying with a curl that he drags along his plush lips.

“It’s going to snow anyway. And my apartment is closer than your hotel,” you tell him, just as you drag him inside. “Robin’s out for the night anyway.”

You don’t intend to stay up most of the night talking. But you do, huddled together on your couch, giggling together until your sides ache and your cheeks hurt from grinning so much. Somewhere, in the midst of the movie you pop in and set to watch, a bowl of popcorn positioned in Eddie’s lap, the two of you drift off into sleep. Leather jacket pressed against your cheek, the tattoo of his heartbeat loud in your ears, the comfort of his familiarity calling you home.

In the morning, you’re both on your sides. The popcorn, now likely stale, sits on your coffee table. Eddie’s fingers press into the dip of your back, his thighs slotted between yours, his face just millimeters from your forehead. It feels normal, and there’s a feeling of right that stirs in your chest from just simply having him close to you like this.

“Hey,” he murmurs, eyes closed, head nuzzling into yours.

You don’t push away, don’t try to move. It feels nice, this nearness to him. Your fingers slide up and along his back, brushing against skin beneath his shirt. “Hi.”

You’re met with those eyes that could have you falling in love all over again. Then again, you don’t think you ever truly fell out. “I haven’t laughed like that in a long time,” he whispers, thumb coming up to run along your cheek gently.

At the slow drag of the digit back and forth along your jawline, your heart stutters. “Me neither, Eddie. Look—I’m really sorry for—”

His next words tumble out in a breathless rush, “Do you think you could give us another chance? I’m done with the tour in another month and then I’ll be home. Here. And I want to do it with you.”

It’s a beautiful dream; sounds like everything you could want and more. But the logistics, the reality of what that looks like. “Eddie…you’re in Hawkins when you’re not working, and I’m here in the city—”

“I’ll move in.”

You break out into a disbelieving laugh. “Did you just invite yourself to move into my apartment?”

“I’ll move in…if you let me. If you want me to,” he says slowly, looking you firmly in the eye. There’s a severity there you’re unused to on his features. “Look, it’s not going to be easy, and I know that. I should have been more supportive on the road last time, should have called you more. Fuck, there’s a lot of things I should have done, but I shouldn’t have let you go. I should have gotten on the next plane to New York and been here.”

You’ve both made mistakes. Endless ones. Too many to count. In your heart, you understand letting Eddie go—letting your love go—is one of the gravest.

“Your career skyrocketed—”

“Doesn’t matter. You were there for all my shitty shows with the five drunks in our crowd, and you were there when we played our first festival. You were there when we got signed with the record label. And I’m a fuckin’ idiot.”

It’s crazy; it sounds crazy, but it feels right and you’re blurting out your next words without thinking about it, choosing to try, choosing to believe, “I have three conditions for you moving in here.”

The hand brushing your cheek stops. “I’m listening.”

“You kiss me every morning and night when you’re here.”

“Easy.” He leans down and nudges his nose against yours for emphasis. At the soft nod of your head, he leans down and captures your mouth with his, swallowing the hum that swells in the back of your throat.

You reluctantly pull away, teasing the line of his nose with your own. “You promise to separate your lights from your darks before throwing them in the wash.”

He smirks, huffing out a laugh. “Babe, I’ll even do the dishes.”

“Tempting,” you tease, sliding your hand around his back and dragging it across his abdomen. His stomach twitches under your touch, amber eyes liquefying as they glance down to where your skin brushes his.

“What’s the last one?” he asks, a pointer finger coming to tip your head up to look at him. He places another peck on your lips, maneuvering the two of you on the couch so you can shift over onto your back, one of his elbows resting beside your head to prop himself up.

Your fingers slide up and over his heart, resting over the place you’d broken some months ago now, the same place he was willing to open up to you and lay bare once more. “We will never ever break up again. It killed me the first time. Been my best friend since we were kids, Ed.”

“I know, sweetheart, I know.” His palm moves to lay over yours, forehead dropping to rest against yours. “Never again. Gonna make sure you know every day just how much you mean to me. I love you.”

“I love you, too.” And you mean it. It’s never been something that stopped; it’s a certainty just as the sun rising each day is. “So how soon can you move in?”

“Well,” he hums, sliding a palm down your side, along the curve of your hip, around the bend of your knee that spreads to accommodate him between the cradle of your hips. “Seeing as we’re snowed in, we can practice now.”

Your kisses are slow and languid, as is the way you undress one another. Fingers coming to slide his jacket down his arms, to help drag the tee shirt beneath up and over his head until his wavy hair springs free. He slides your jeans down your thighs, making you giggle when he blows a raspberry into your abdomen after you kick your thong free from your ankle into a heap on the floor alongside the jeans and boxers he’s since removed. And it’s a honey sweet sigh as he flops over onto his back and you sink down onto him, relishing in the fullness of being with the man who holds your heart after four months without. It’s the soft build of your impending release, husky moans from the man beneath you, quiet moans spilling from your parted lips. It’s the ringed fingers helping you rock against him, his hips undulating beneath yours, driving you closer and closer to your tipping point, the rasp of his voice as he breathes out, “I—ah, fuck. Made for me, sweetheart.”

“Missed you, Ed. Missed this. Missed us.”

“That’s it. Take what you need. S’ gorgeous, baby.”

As you shatter around him, sated and spent, and drop down to rest against him, with his fingers trailing up and down your bare spine, you relish in the fresh start, a love to nurture.

And a few days later, you relish in the new home you start to build as you help him unpack and his things become one with your own.

#lunas1kfollowercelebration🌙#eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson blurbs #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson smut #rockstar!eddie munson x f!reader #rockstar!eddie munson smut #rockstar!eddie munson

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myosotisa · 1 year

Text

HOT OFF THE PRESS (2/6)

The I Will Wait Archives

(click here for yesterday's news)

Tomorrow's headline will be dropping on @breddiemunson's blog!

Corroded Coffin's PR team will now be accepting questions on the incident and anything else that may be pertinent. Send them in here!

Writer: @breddiemunson

Graphic Design: @myosotisa and @blue-mossbird

Photography: @eddiemunsons-missingnipple

Editors: @abibliophobiaa, @fracturedarkness, @blue-mossbird, @breddiemunson, and @myosotisa

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #rockstar!eddie munson x you #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson x female reader #rockstar!eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson angst #i will wait #iwillwait #eddie munson edit #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson smut #rockstar!eddie munson #eddie munson #myos ideas

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musedblues · 1 year

Text

More Than Words

(photo edits by @pitfulbaby_ on insta)

a/n: this is my personal rockstar!eddie dream, suspend your disbelief and enjoy this wild ride where eddie is no more and no less than a rock and roll icon. all credit goes to my wifey girl @joemazzmatazz , she has not only been majorly responsible for the birth of this idea but incredibly encouraging at my taking over bringing this fic to life.

warnings: sex, drugs and rock and roll baby. MINORS DON'T READ this fic has it allllllll.

///

To Corroded Coffin, you were a pseudo sibling, a reluctant roadie- the only friend who seemed to earn a stable spot on the sofa in their dirty garage turned rehearsal studio. And that was just the way you liked it.

It all started when their singer, Lonnie, cornered you outside of Mr. Clarke's class and begged you to film the bands appearance at the middle school talent show. They lost the competition, but won your heart that evening. Through the rest of that school year and the summer that followed, you'd watched the band evolve through the lense of your family's old super 8.

Filming the band's sets and offering the help make flyers for the local gigs they managed to score became your favorite past time. Because of this, Corroded Coffin dubbed you the bands guardian angel- but only after you alerted the drummer that his girlfriend was shagging the guitarist. So Drew broke it off with the girl and sent the six string traitor packing, and you offered to help find his replacement.

That month of auditions felt never ending and more hopeless with each passing wannabe rocker. Until Eddie.

Eddie Munson waltzed into that dirty old garage like he owned the place, playing his guitar before even speaking a word. The way he showed off surprised you. He'd been obviously outspoken in school, but the confidence he oozed behind his instrument was a sight to behold. And he was the best damn guitarist any of you'd heard... maybe ever. Without much discussion, the band started to jam. Ben picked up his bass and Lonnie started scatting out a melody and by the time they'd managed to make a song out of their messing about, it was the best Corroded Coffin had ever sounded.

The band asked you what you thought, each of them grinning when your head nodded in approval. Eddie was asked to join forces with the other players and at the end of it all, you were introduced as their guardian angel. It was a dumb ass joke, but one that wouldn't die. And though you protested the use of the nickname, it stuck.

It made sense, though. You were the one setting up amps and driving the sons of bitches across state lines to help land gigs to earn them some exposure. You were the one paying more than half the rent in your eventual sharde flat, so the boys could spend their earnings making music as professionally as possible. You were the one chucking beer cans back at hicks who tossed them the bands way, mid set. (Indiana was really not the scene for the metal group) Lonnie had to jump off stage to stop you from fist fighting a bulky drunken lumberjack, one evening.

Each of the boys owed you a lot. And you believed their music would become successful enough to count as pay back, one day. But despite having known him for a much shorter time than the others, Eddie most often sought the protection of the angel wings the others insisted you owned.

It was no secret that you thought the world of him. After a gig that paid the band in kegs of beer; you got drunk enough to tell Eddie he was the only guitarist you approved of joining the band because he was talented and cute, and he became endeared to you all the while. Not in the way you'd hoped, but he learned he could trust you all the same.

"Since you think I'm so dreamy, would you do me a favor, angel?" Eddie would bat his lashes and beg you to help him pass the test that finally got him to graduate. With the pout of his lip, he got you to help him make an extensive budget; or fix a broken pair of glasses he'd sometimes worn but never dared told anyone else he had to. Because you'd been transparent about your admiration for the guy, he began to trust you with his own secrets.

"You know my story." Eddie spoke in confidence one evening. "I've always been made to feel like such an outcast. I'm just worried that no matter how hard I try I'll still be the weirdo everyone loves to hate. And I don't want that to be what this band is known for. I don't want to mess this up."

And in turn, you'd said...

"Well, everyone who shows up for the music will see how much you love it. And they'll fall head over heels for you without even thinking. I am speaking from personal experience, of course." You both laughed and the guitarist thanked you for the pep talk that night, and for all the help you so selflessly continued to provide the band.

Eventually, all your hard work started to pay off. The recordings you'd captured of the bands every gig were finally picked up by the right local producer at the right time. The business man agreed to finance a real recording session for Corroded Coffin.

The release of that EP didn't make a big difference in the small town of Hawkins, but the single got air time by way of the capital city's most beloved underground radio station. Over the next year, Corroded Coffin went from selling out pubs in the city, to selling out auditoriums in the tristate area. The producer insisted on helping the band make a bona fide debut album, and the rest was history.

///

The band had fled your shared flat, leaving the space feeling void, and the rent looming over your head. They were four months into a European tour that was only just getting started. And everytime Ben rang home to insist on sending money back to help keep the lights on; the bassist revealed new tour dates kept getting added to the already lengthy schedule. You weren't surprised to hear it.

Corroded Coffin was usually always on the radio stations you favored. Their posters decorated record store walls and the windows of odd coffee houses. Their album was usual sold out in every place it was available to purchase. The band of boy's you'd grown to adore were becoming the rest of the music world's favorite group as well. Pride bloomed in your chest more fiercely each time their one and only music video looped through MTV.

When your phone clattered against the holder, and you knew it was them. No one else ever called. So when all you heard on the other line were guitars being tuned for a split second, you weren't surprised... Until the bands manager started to speak.

"Are you looking for extra work, this summer?" His gravel voice wondered in an accent you could never quite place.

"You know I would love nothing more than to quit my 9 to 5, Tony." You laughed, unsure if he did know. You'd barely interacted the bands new manager. Tony swooped in out of nowhere, promised the band the moon, and ushered them off on tour in the matter of two short months. You met him once at the airport when you dropped the lads off, before driving Eddie's van back to Hawkins.

"Good! Listen to this..." Tony went on to explain that Corroded Coffin were making plans for the future. The band had made big promises to MTV and to their record label about a second album and documentary. "The boys want you to film it."

"Can't... shouldn't MTV handle that?"

"MTV will. The band want the majority of the footage to feel familiar, like watching an old home movie. They tell me you've got just the equipment. And old footage we can use, too, so it'll all blend together well. You'll work with MTV's crew. We're pushing the 'small town boys make it really really big' angle."

Tony went on to promise you more money than you've ever had in your life, and even got Drew on the line to confirm this was not a prank. Your life changed in one fifteen minute phone call. But just how much was yet to be determined...

///

You arrived in a French airport with two precariously packed bags and a bundle of nerves growing with every step. Since when were you so anxious about meeting up with your oldest friends? The place was packed with travelers, shuffling every which way. Tony stood waiting for you, his lanky arms opened in a welcoming fashion as you hurried to meet him near a luggage carousel. At his side was the MTV rep you'd be working alongside to make Corroded Coffin's documentary come to life.

After a moment of going over the game plan for the next few months and complaining a bit about your flight, Tony showed you down a noticeably more sparse hall. Only a few people shuffled by before you spotted them- the boys in the band you'd known so well.

"Tony! We came looking for you! Take off is soon." Drew called out, his ashy blonde curls grown down to his waist, longer than ever. As Tony started plodding with more purpose, the band kept walking your way, picking up their own pace to greet you.

Ben lifted you from the ground in an embrace, and you worried aloud over how skinny he'd become. Lonnie and Drew ruffled your hair before chivalrously taking your bags to carry toward the plane. As they turned to walk in the correct direction, Eddie was the last to emerge before you. His smile was coquettish, like he knew something he couldn't wait to tell you. His elbows stayed near his sides as he raised both hands to invite you into a lazy but well meaning hug. His hair was a mess, and the circles under his eyes made you wonder if he'd slept at all since the tour started.

"Hey, you kind of look like shit." You smiled, glad to see the guy even if he was looking a little rough. Eddie didn't embrace you as expected, but planted both of his extended hands on either side of your head.

"Coming from you, angel, that really stings." Eddie's grin grew wider before he placed a kiss to the crown of your head. "But I needed to hear it." You took note of the exhaustion in his tone, despite Eddie's efforts to save face.

"Well, you better clean up your act before I catch you looking such a wreck on my camera." As you spoke, you couldn't help but brush a strand of matted hair from Eddie's forehead- missing the way he'd let you dote on him before every show. "Be my mirror, kid." He'd ask, knowing fully well you'd take any opportunity to stare a little more intently at the guy.

Now; he agreed to follow your orders as he flung an arm around your shoulder- leading you down the hall a few feet behind everyone else.

The group shuffled quickly outdoors, where you were less surprised to find a private jet idoling than you were by a horde of fans anxiously corralled behind a gate. A guard stood by as the swarm hollered at the sight of the band, collectively reaching toward them. How'd that many people even get back here, you wondered? The boys in the band waved but seemed unaffected by the chaos as they hurried on the jet. As you loaded in and processed how quickly everything was already happening, everyone found seats and settled. Cracking open books and pouring drinks to pass the time. Eddie, however, crashed right at your side and let his head hit your shoulder- his eyes closing as he fell into an immediate sleep.

"He hasn't slept since Glasgow." Tony chuckled in the seat across from you, pointing to the passed out guitarist. "Was beginning to wonder if he ever would again."

///

The next row of days and nights were a blur. You spent every second trying to keep up the pace that Corroded Coffin seemed to be used to now, running onto stages and dashing out of the grasp of the fans that seemed to be waiting around every corner. The shows Corroded Coffin put on were dazzling, and it never failed to raise an emotion within you to see them all take charge of such a massive opportunity. To hear their music pulse through venues. To see the dream playing out in real time.

The MTV rep and yourself had found a way of working together decently. He'd talk to the band between shows, film the things your little old super 8 couldn't quite capture. And you'd filmed just about everything else, because just about everything Corroded Coffin did was remarkable to the people around them- charming.

Eddie would reach into the front row of every other audience and grab a hand close enough to kiss a set of knuckles- sending the sea of the other thousands into bombastic cheers. Drew would stand on tabletops and scale fountains and laugh brightly enough to steer authority figures away from too harshly reprimanding him. Lonnie would turn interviews into parties, making sure camera men and assistance were supplied with beer cans and insisting radio hosts spin Metallica records in the middle of Q&A's. Ben would try and keep the peace but could be caught smirking through the chaos all the same.

Then came the autograph signing at a record store in Monaco. The business shut its doors for a half hour to let the boys do some shopping in peace, keeping out a swarm of fans that chanted and cheered to be let in. You recorded your friends froliking through the asiles and picking out stacks of vinyl to claim for their own, winking at fans through the windows every now and again. They certainly were getting used to all the attention, something they usually only ever received negatively back home.

Just before the doors were opened, you set your camera down and tried to enjoy the time with your friends as just that, looking over records all the same as them. You'd found a vinyl, the only one your favorite band had released that you didn't already own. Eddie noticed your excitement, and without a word he plucked the record from your grasp and added it to his own pile at the register- mentioning something about listening to everything later in his room on his portable player.

It was a swoon-worthy gesture, but one that left an ache in your heart all the while. You knew there would never be time to sit and listen to any of this music, even if Eddie had hoped there would be. The band had no second of peace, there were always a place to be, people waiting. The band was given only a moments notice before the record store doors opened and you were left filming the mob shoving posters in the boy's hands to sign.

///

In a private booth of some elegant restaurant in Barcelona, the once long-suffering band had fully morphed into unabashed attention whores. Drew sat with a model under each of his arms, Lonnie was tracking down local reporters to woo, and you were sat back soaking it all in. By now, the scene was familiar, but it hit you all at once that perhaps it was the new normal way of things. Grown suddenly a little exhausted by that point, you wished hopelessly for a weekend to yourself, for an afternoon with a book in your lap and no planes to worry about catching. But the only vacation from this scene that you'd kept reliving was a trip to the bar top by yourself.

You'd stood next to a nice enough guy who started getting a little too handsy. Alas, your pseudo vacation was soiled. You were working on slithering away from the stranger when Eddie appeared. You noticed by his saunter the guitarist was hammered.

"Hey fuck off, buddy." Eddie smiled with fire in his gaze, moving to push the handsy stranger even further away than you'd managed to nudge him. There was slur in your friends voice so noticeable that you wondered how he was even functioning right now. It was then you realized Eddie had your camera in his grasp.

"You're always behind this thing. S'your turn to be in front!" He declared, taking a step back to point the lense at you. And of course you were in no state to be filmed, dirty hair pulled back, your clothes wrinkled by travel. And anyway he was wasting space you were getting paid to film him.

"Okay, pal." You managed to gently yank your device from Eddies grasp and steady his inebriated wobble all the while. In the same moment he mumbled in wonder what drink you had in your grasp, some girl came up to him ask for an autograph. The guitarist let his grin grow wickedly slow as the shy young thing held a pen in his direction. The guy nearly knocked it out of her hand as he grossly agreed to sign anything she'd wanted.

"You're a mess." You huffed a small laugh, making sure he heard you before you decidedly saw yourself out of Eddie's line of chaos. You were instead off to find Ben. He'd surly do shots with you, and manage to maintain a conversation worth while. Even if you had to tolerated his new groupie girlfriend, with an impossibly shrill voice that never stopped chattering.

By the time you'd found the pair, you learned that Ben had proposed to this newfound love of his and the two had made plans to get married in the next city. You offered to order celebratory shots, but only drank to dull the ever growing ache in your head.

///

At the next backstage green room, you sat fidgeting with your camera, trying to decide if you should film Lonnie attempting to apply eyeliner or not. It made his dark eyes pop, but he was so sloppy with the process. Eddie was near, fretting over his stage outfit. How could he choose between a flannel and ripped jeans or a ripped up shirt, and the same ratty fucking jeans?

"Does this look alright?" Eddie stood before you with a grimace, in the a different version of the same kind of outfit he'd been so hung up on. You paused to consider his change of clothes, but then he spoke again before you could.

"If I don't look good enough to make you blush, angel, I'm doin' something wrong."

"Dude. You look fine." You laughed, and this was not the right answer apparently, as he stormed toward the corner of the room, leafing through the wardrobe wrack again. It was then and there in the middle of the bloody green room that Edward Munson dropped his jeans to the ground in favor of a shiny leather pair.

It was an olympic feat to hide your fluster in that moment; hoping you looked as nonchalant as possible while deciding to finally film Lonnie's attempt at eyeliner. But the singer wasn't about to let you off that easy...

"Will you two ever just bone and get it over with?" Your friend gave a wicked grin to your camera and you moved it away in a hurry to catch his eye with your frustrated gaze.

"It's hard to film you lot being funny when you act like such a dick, Lonnie." You huffed, hopping your face didn't look as hot as it felt. The singer only chuckled at your disconcert in that annoying brotherly sort of way that had you thanking God you hadn't had to grow up with these boys as your actual siblings- shuddering to think how they'd up the ante of humiliation on a day to day basis.

The band was promptly ushred to the stage then, a welcomed change of pace. As Corroded Coffin kicked off a show that sent a thousand fans roaring, you stood with a racing mind at the side of the stage. Hadn't the boys moved passed teasing you like that? When Eddie joined the band, there were a few long months of torture, the boys razzing every time Eddie got you to blush. But eventually there were no more jokes to make. So the boys settled for smiles under the rolling of eyes- their only attempt at taking the piss out of your dynamic with the guitarist.

You watched on the boys share nods and wordless connection as they brought their music to life. And you watched as Eddie shot winks to the front row while he shredded away. That's what he did. Everyone was used to it by now, Eddie's flirting. But you couldn't get over why Lonnie dared to say what he'd said, an hour before. You decided it couldn't matter as much as you wanted it too, and managed all the while to get lost dancing to the music.

///

In the middle of that last show, Eddie had stumbled a bit but brushed off the near fall with a smile that endeared the masses into cheering his name. You'd always known he was charming, but to observe such waves of people showering him in such never ending adoration was still pretty wild to process. In fact, the audience seemed possessed by lust, blinded to Corroded Coffin's little setbacks that kept happening that show. No mishap upended the performance by any means; but you couldn't help but notice how Drew fumbled to find another pair of drumsticks and the way Lonnie paused to breath a little longer between songs.

The next morning welcomed a long awaited scheduled set of days off, as to not completely burn out the band. But it all seemed too late when Eddie woke up worse for wear. Tony pounded on your door loud enough to wake you and demand you take some of the painkillers you kept on hand down the hall to the guitarist. As the manager went to phone a doctor, you scurried to knock on Eddie's door. The faint groan he responded with was answer enough for you to see yourself in. The guy was slumped over in bed, looking dead to the world.

"I'm dyin'. Can you play guitar? Someone will have to replace me the rest of this tour." He croaked, not bothering to move from the mess of blankets he was nearly face down against.

"Would some of these keep you alive for a couple more days?" You rattled the pill bottle and stood against the wall nearest his bed, watching Eddie turn to squint up at you.

"You know I can't see that far." He huffed, turning his face back to whine into the pillows.

"Im sure if you wore your secret glasses you're head wouldn't hurt as much. And I'm sure if you ever consumed something more than whiskey for dinner you'd feel less shitty in general." You listed, opening the bottle and moving to sit at the side of the bed to hand the pills to the pitiful guitarist.

Eddie slowly turned to face you, taking the painkillers with a pout. He grumbled a thank you and you let him know that Tony had phoned a doctor, because no precaution was too over the top when it came to making sure the rockstar would be able to get back on another stage in 42 hours time. You insisted Eddie rest until then, and decidedly got up to find your own peace for the day.

As you left the room, you saw Drew worriedly waiting for life or death news in his opened door way. When you informed the drummer that you were sure Eddie was just exhausted, the guy laughed in relife, and thanked you for coming along. Claiming the band would legitimately fall to bits without you around to glue things in sensible place. You invited the guy to the lodge gardens where you planned to help yourself to some lunch, but he decided resting the day away was in order for himself as well.

You found solace in the fact that the band was spending the day taking some kind of care of themselves, something you hadn't seen done in the month and a half you spent on the road with them. And your excitement grew when you realized today you could finally do the same. After cleaning up and choosing a book as your companion, you ordered some food and took it to the lush gardens of the elaborate Italian lodge. There were few other residents that crossed your marble laid path, but the place was so massive it didn't shock you to realize there were ample opportunities to find privacy in public.

You placed your plate on a small garden table and settled into a cushioned iron chair, appreciating the afternoon breeze and birdsong you'd been longing for. A stark contrast to the grimey backstages and buzzing of amps you'd been used to. After a few chapters and most of your meal had gone with the hours, you were interrupted.

"What are you reading?" Eddie had emerged from the plant covered path, strolling toward you. He looked better, dressed in a plain white tee with his tousled hair pulled back.

"Doctor Zhivago, don't think you'd like it very much." You announced as he approached closer. Eddie sat himself in the only chair at your side, saying something about how Drew mentioned your whereabouts to the guitarist.

"Shall we order you some food? Coffee? With, what is it you like... seven sugars?" You asked with a roll of your eyes. Eddie smirked at your comment, stealing a couple of leftover grapes from your plate.

"It's not sweet enough with any less."

"Don't come crying to me when you get diabetes or some shit."

Eddie stole more fruit with a shrug as you asked if any doctor had paid him a visit yet.

"He did. Didn't tell me anything you hadn't already said. I should be wearing my glasses. I should be taking better care of myself. I guess I really needed this day off. Just couldn't stand to lay up there doing nothing anymore." Eddie rambled on more about how didn't realize just how hard and fast he'd been living, it all seemed to hit him the moment he stopped.

"And anyway, rockstars don't wear glasses." Eddie pointed, stealing more of your food.

"Holly and Lennon would beg to differ." You cocked a brow and shut your book, shifting your entire attention to Eddie.

"I know." He slumped funnily, making you chuckle. "I'll break them out. Just don't film me looking too smart, got it? I've got an image to uphold."

"I promise not to film you looking any less than rock royalty." You laughed. Eddie chuckled too, and rambled a bit longer about how caught up in the scene he'd become, struggling to remember that last time he was this sober and exactly what day it was. You listened and nodded along, knowing how taxing this tour had been for you, imagining it was an even more exhausting endeavour for Eddie.

"You know I'm glad you're still out here putting up with us all. I really missed you, angel." Eddie looked right at you, stalling your heart for a beat against your wish to shed this silly bunch of feelings you held for the guitarist.

"Don't say something you don't mean." You tried to joke like usual but knew it came out a little more like a warning than you'd intended. Eddie watched you for a moment before he spoke up again. His gaze was always so magnetic. His presence was always so captivating. You couldn't help but swoon a little when he said things like that to you.

"We're friends... right? It's selfish but... I could really use a friend out here."

You let out a small sigh, sitting up a bit to respond. "Eddie I can put my silly crush aside, like always. I could never compete with all the groupies vying for your attention anyway." You smiled and insisted you'd be glad to continue being Eddies voice of reason throughout the rest of this tour.

Eddie thanked you, letting the moment of gratitude hang in the air before he slumped a little further back in his chair and insisted you read the book in your lap aloud. He talked you into doing so, and it became a relaxing passage of time for the pair of you, until dusk threatened to fall and a chill sent you both back to seperate rooms for the night.

///

After two glorious days of relative quiet at that posh Italian lodge, it was time to hop back on the road once more. The band played show after show, never failing to kick ass but struggling to avoid slip up's more than usual. While he never let it show to the crowd, you noticed Eddie's fatigue when he slumped for a beat too long near an amp, pretending to plug something in, but stalling just to collect himself, it seemed.

It wasn't helping that he would only wear his glasses when he was all alone- declaring they were not nearly metal enough for the world to see- because Eddie was never alone. And his headaches had nearly emptied your bottle of painkillers. The combination of the handful of pills and whatever alcohol he'd claimed as dinner were threatening to turn the kids brain to mush, you noticed.

Eventually, when he was just spaced out enough, during moments he would sling his arm around your shoulder and sit with you on plane rides- you got him to wear the bloody things. During band meetings and room service breakfasts with just you and the other guys, he'd opt to see better. During times like then, no one was quite so worried how they looked or who to impress, anyhow. All anyone knew was how much you all missed home.

But the tour persisted mercilessly. You'd film the band from the sidelines of talk show appearances and as they mucked about during soundchecks. You napped during radio interviews, and you'd sit through after parties while the boys let girls pour shots down their throats. And slowly, you watched as you lost each friends company to prettier people and more important offers. Each night it got worse.

You watched on as their collective interest was lost on you- as the boys in the band embraced the scene you were equally as submerged into but were most stranded amongst. The friends you'd flown across the world for would leave in the middle of stories you managed to conjure up, when famous producers crashed odd dinner parties. Lonnie promised for weeks to take you to dinner just the pair of you, to gossip and get away from it all. But he'd raincheck every afternoon, skipping off with people he'd only just met, instead. Drew and Ben had taken to crushing up pills to keep them awake, but were always too intoxicated to be present, floating through the motions, disregarding your general existence in their orbit.

But it really stung every time Eddie lost interest in the slivers of time he decided to spend with you. It only took a stunning blue eyed beauty to tear his gaze from yours, and steal him away for the rest of the night. It would only take a shinny new guitar handed to the budding rock and roll icon, to get Eddie yammering away to a set of strangers. Leaving you to wonder how the story he was telling you was meant to end. He'd never get around to telling you the end of many of those things his attention was stolen from.

The very worst was the mansion party. You'd found yourselves in a castle like home, full of your peers all more wasted than the next. You couldn't sure by whom you'd all been invited or how it even mattered. All you could process was the music that flooded from speakers, heavy drums and bass never ceasing to thrum through your ears. Sweaty bodies crowded each corner, and the drinks never seemed to run out.

You'd gotten used to the girls by now. The pretty young things that would claw their way through crowds for a chance to be near Eddie. As foreign as the concept was, having only known the guitarist to garner the opposite reactions from girls back home, you'd gotten used to it. Eddie always had an excitable groupie on standby, to wink at from stage, to drag into his room at night.

But tonight was different. A line of ladies seemed to be impatiently waiting for a turn with the moon eyed guitarist, lingering close by in packs, whispering about him to each other before leaning in to whisper to him. Eddie invited one or two at a time into the seat of his lap, petting back their hair and shoving his tongue down their throats.

He wasn't breaking any rules. He hadn't ditched any previously made plans to stick close by you. He hadn't made any promises to you. Yet you'd felt the loneliest you ever imagined feeling in the middle of that people packed mansion- watching Eddie hand his heart out to sets of strangers who weren't you.

So when a strikingly beautiful foreign metal head settled in the seat at your side, and began to strike up profound conversation; you warmly accepted his bold introduction. The man was almost too pretty, a perfect set of features shone past long waves of sandy hair. His near curls tickled your face when he leaned in to tell a joke in your ear, past the loud thrumming music.

And when his hand dared to settle just above your knee, you locked eyes with someone else across the room. Eddie was sat in an armchair, not to far from you. There was a girl at his side, doing her best to leave a hickey where she'd latched her mouth to his neck. He'd worn an odd sneer on his face, eyes never leaving yours once the pair of you had noticed each other. You were the first to break the stare off, though. Turning instead to gaze at the stunning metal head who leaned into you, daring to move his hand further up your thigh. As he did, you couldn't help but look back at the guitarist across the way.

It seemed Eddie hadn't stopped looking in your direction, even as a new girl settled into his lap, twirling one of his curls around her manicured finger. All at once, the guy at your side moved his hand from your leg to your hip, daring to trace circles with a soft finger as he told you some very raunchy story. As you'd kept your gaze on Eddie, you watched when he irritably nudged the girl from his lap to stand. What was his sudden problem, you wondered?

Trying your damnedest to enjoy the shred of admiration the foreign guy held for you, you let him move strands of hair behind your ear and didn't mind when the stories he told in your ear grew increasingly more vulgar. If things kept going in this direction, maybe you wouldn't have to spend another night all alone.

You rolled your eyes at Eddie as he dared to drift close by, on his way to retrieve another beer, you figured. He glared at you in a way that had you questioning his sobriety. You wondered if it would be worth addressing, or if he'd be none the wiser to the evil eye he'd been giving you, the next morning. Ben popped into view then too, noticing Eddies scowl, and the bassist mouthed to you from across the way asking what the hell his problem was. You just gave a small shake of your head as you decidedly turned to face the fellow at your side. He was gentle in the way he grabbed at you. He was funny too, enough to pull a string of giggles out of you. You'd nearly lost your attention entirely to him, until you detected Eddie once more.

The guitarist was standing closer than ever before, and you noticed just in time to watch as he pretended to hear Ben call out his name. In an animated overreaction, Eddie pretended to be distracted enough to bump against the chair your new foreign friend sat in, and Eddie, with sly intention, spilled a full glass of beer across the fellows back.

The metal heads once endearing attention was torn from you and a rage took over him as he turned his stunning features to find Eddie feigning an apology he very obviously did not mean. Passersby gasped and laughed and batted their eyes at Eddie as they floated near.

"Eddie!" You hissed, getting up to move and giving a real apology to your almost-date. He seemed entirely disinterested now, clenching his jaw and gently yet dismissively pushing you aside to likely find something to change into. You tried to stop him but it was no use. When he'd gone you saw Eddie still standing there with a shit eating grin spread across his face.

"Fuck you Eddie Munson." You seethed, each word tearing from your throat with an anger you were not accustomed to.

"I know you'd really like to, what's stopping you huh?" Eddie bent a little so he could look square in your eye as he responded. And though his remark could have made you weak in the knees, it only made your anger grow tenfold. He was definitely wasted.

"You jealous mother fucker!" You pointed, unsure where this spat was headed or why it had started in the first place. Before it could continue, you felt Ben's familiar boney grip yanking you away. He demanded Eddie go cool off somewhere, and enveloped you into his skinny side, bounding away from the guitarist.

That very same evening, Ben's annoying groupie wife left him for a famous chef she'd met at that cursed party. He fell to bits, a true blue heartbreak. You didn't end up alone that night after all. You and Ben stayed up sniffling through tears in your room, wondering when everything started to suck because the tour sure started off happier, you both recalled.

///

Since then, the bassist had become your closest confidant. His newly despondent state matched your own, and the pair of you often sat on the outskirts of parties and nights out. He'd always end up at your side after interviews or during shared meals. He'd give fans polite smiles when they interrupted your lunches, and wait for them to leave so you two could carry on talking about books and movies to dull the ache of reality.

The rest of the band was not nearly as grounded, letting themselves get entirely swept up in the depth of the tour. Lonnie had grown bitchy, pissing off his bandmates when he didn't think soundchecks were taken seriously enough, often starting quarls in the dressing room after. Drew was never sober, always on something that hindered his ability to care as much as he used to. And Eddie was never alone. People of all kinds swarmed around him, and he ate up the attention, allowing strangers to crash rehearsals and take up space on the jet. He'd been so busy wooing so many new faces that he'd barely paid you attention for a handful of days.

///

On the rooftop of some raging Japanese hotel, the band was busy celebrating another kick ass show. Before the after party had even really begun, Drew was already passed out near the pool. You stayed near, watching his chest rise and fall, until a roadie was assigned to drag the drummer to bed, hopefully without a hitch. Lonnie was busy buying rounds of drinks and Eddie was busy kicking bottles off of table tops. Ben had promised to stick close by, but he'd unfortunately fallen in love at first sight with a girl who looked a lot like the one he'd recently had his heart broken by.

So there you were, left sulking, wishing you hadn't decide to leave your camera in your room, because it was easy to hide behind. Now you just wanted to leave, and you realized nothing was stopping you from doing just that. And not just this rooftop party, not just this city.

"Tony. I want to go home." You shouted at him from across a mini bar. The guy was just as spent, but seemed to perk up when he realized what you were demanding. When the manager didn't try and stop you right away; you made an argument that the band had more than enough footage from tour, from you, and that you were desperate to get off the never ending ride. Tony tried for a moment to talk you down from making an irrational decision, but he could see you weren't going to back down. Eventually the guy shuffled off mentioning something about a phone call, promising you he'd see what he could do about putting an end to your misery.

After stealing a shot from under Lonnie's nose and chugging the last of your own drink, you moved to find your coat and the stairs.

"Where do you think you're going?" A voice boomed through the crowd. Eddie was stumbling toward you, dragging some girl behind as he maneuvered to approach. It was the first time he'd spoken directly to you in what felt like forever, maybe longer.

"I'm calling it a night." You voiced, slinging your thin garment over your bent arm.

"No, stay a little while longer, Slash is supposed to show up later! This party will die without you." You were flattered that Eddie wouldn't want you to miss rock and roll royalty gracing the up and coming band's party, but you were just not in the mood to be otherwise disregarded, tonight.

"I don't really feel like that's true." You hadn't wanted your reply to come off so bittered but you couldn't seem to help it, this tour was wearing you down.

"No, he's really gonna be here-"

Just then Tony shouldered passed the guitarist, the interruption stunning the guy from finishing his sentence.

"There is a flight tomorrow morning. If you can be up by six, there will be a ticket home waiting for you at the front desk." The manager grumbled in his unintelligible accent, reluctant to send you away. "I think you should think about this, though-"

"There is nothing to think about Tony, I want to go home."

"Wait, where are you going?" Eddie fretted, seemingly coming out of his stupor enough to comprehend your conversation with Tony.

"You guys should have enough footage. I'm going back to Hawkins." You swallowed the lump in your throat and watched Tony gaze at Eddie from the side of his eyes, as if the manager had expected the guitarist to blow.

Eddies face did fall as he stepped closer to say "No. Don't leave me yet, angel." No sooner than the words left his lips did the girl at his side sneer and demand to know who you were and why Eddie cared so much.

"She's nobody, babe, come on." Eddie groaned, his focus morphing in the blink of an eye, as if he'd never cared about stopping you at all. His hold tightened desperately on the girl he seemingly favored tonight. Tony seemed to notice too, cringing at Eddie's disregard.

That "nobody" hit you where it hurt, and it was hard not to let it show, as you shoved past Eddie, determined to leave faster than before. You heard him call out to you again, a half hearted attempt to stop you. But he couldn't.

///

You found yourself alone, like usual, but unusually glad for it. There was a massive bottle of vodka calling your name from your rooms mini bar, one you wanted all your own. You switched on the telly to keep the silence of the room from driving you mad, downed as much vodka as you could in record time, and started packing.

It was somewhere halfway down the bottle that the band arrived back from the rooftop. You could tell by the ruckus coming from the hall that had been quiet before now. Debating on leaving a goodbye note, or letting Tony break the news to the boys, you kept packing and pretended the distant laughter from the hall didn't sting to hear.

Then there was a knock. You took another swig of alcohol as the banging at your door grew annoyingly more persistent. You only moved to open it when you couldn't stand the noise any longer.

"I didn't mean nobody.'" Eddie grumbled past a frown, drunk as you. He leaned against the door frame, a mess, shirt barely buttoned, hair unkempt. You started to wordlessly shut the door on him but he stopped it from closing with a foot.

"I didn't mean it, she was nobody and I was just excited about Slash. He didn't even show up. Please let me in." Eddie slurred, trying to slot himself between the half shut door.

"No, Eddie, I'm tired of being your second choice. You only talk to me when the people you're trying to impress aren't around."

That stunned the guy into silence. You watched his big brown eyes stare into yours with realization. "I do that?"

You just scowled, turning back to finish packing, reluctantly allowing Eddie to squirm through and lock you both in.

"You seriously aren't going back to Indiana, are you?" He worried, moving to stall before where you paced from the closet to your opened suitcase.

"I am." You sighed. In a few words you reminded Eddie that your job here was done and the tour was driving you mad. That the band was driving you mad. But as angry as you were at Eddie you were even more in love with him. So you couldn't help but empathize with how worn down he must've felt, too.

"I think you should stay." He said. "I really want you to stay."

"Why? You have barely said two words to me since Russia."

"I-I..." He stuttered but seemed to recall the past several days, realizing neither of you had really been around each other much.

"You guys won't even notice I'm gone." You spoke, still picking clothes away from hangers and moving to toss them in your bag.

"That's not true." Eddie echoed your statement from much earlier. Whether he meant to or not, he did. And it sent your head spinning a little. "Please don't leave me alone out here. I dont care if you film another thing..."

"You're never alone, Eddie." You seethed, moving to toss another sweater in your unzipped suitcase. But Eddie stopped you, his fingers brushing your wrist to stall your movement before he cautiously wrapped his digits around your arm there.

"I really fucked this all up. I don't want you to leave me. Please stay."

"Why do you only want my attention when you're about to lose it?" You demanded to know.

"Because I'm too much of a pussy to ask for your attention all of the time! And I do want your attention all of the time. And I don't want you to fucking leave me." He boomed back, voice bursting with emotion as he grabbed at you. His one hand that had been latched onto your wrist had joined his other hand in holding either side of your face in his grasp.

"Then prove it." You ordered. If Eddie wanted you around he certainly hadn't been acting like it. But what happened next wasn't exactly the proof you'd been expecting.

Eddie was kissing you before the words finished forming on your lips. You were stunned, absolutely shocked. Not only by his decision to press his lips against your, but by the voracity in which he kissed you. His tongue pushed against yours, his fingers tugged your hair, his body radiated heat flush against your own. And when he pulled away he looked at you and asked with staggered breath,

"Have I made myself perfectly clear?"

"Just... shut the fuck up and do it again." You decidedly croaked, too drunk too care otherwise. You'd dreamed of this. You'd wanted this for so long it was impossible to demand he cease. The room spun from the alcohol and your heart hammered from the feeling of finally having Eddie right where you'd always wanted him. He did as he was told, grabbing you and kissing you and pushing you toward the bed.

His kisses were loud and desperate, and so were yours in turn. His curls tickled your skin, and his hands weren't afraid to wander. With no real time to revel in the bliss of certain caresses, things escalated at a pace so quick you'd wondered if you'd slipped into a drunken dream. Eddie tore away your shorts as you ripped away his belt, dying to get to what was underneath already.

The man's kisses against your neck were searing and his muddled curses sounded like cries. He shoved a hand down your panties, and the way his fingers brushed your core was the most gentle he'd been since this interaction began.

You were the one to shove off his underwear and Eddie wasted no time promptly ramming into you. Your head spun and your blood boiled as his hands clawed into your hips and his raspy voice demanded, "Please stay. For me." Then he called you by your name. Not that silly nickname you'd never favored much. Eddie plead your honest name in your own ear as he fucked you hard enough to send the headboard slamming against the wall.

///

You felt like it lasted forever. But the next thing you realized, you were waking up to sharp rays of sun and Eddie's heavy limbs weighing you down. And as soon as you recalled how your evening ended together, regret flooded your system. Sadness followed suit and before you could process those feelings, a worry moved you to get up and go. With great caution you slipped out of Eddie's loose hold and rushed to gather a change of clothes.

It took you no time to race to the front desk, where a polite attendant informed you the time was eleven in the morning. Waaaay past six. You wanted to curse her and cry and scream. But it was your own fault you missed your flight home.

You spent the next little while hiding in the hotels public loo, dreading finding Eddie still sprawled on your bed. Dreading the conversation the pair of you were eventually going to have to have. Dreading the idea of the rest of the band realizing the guitarist was not in his own room, but had stayed the night in yours.

Eddie had always known you'd dreamt of him having his way with you. But it wasn't how you imagined. It wasn't why you imagined. It felt like the man's last ditch attempt to keep you around one day longer. It didn't feel at all like an act of mutual admiration.

Luckily, he was gone when you got the guts to go back up to your room. And you managed to avoid everyone until it was time to head to the next venue. You would've stayed locked in your hotel room if Tony hadn't come looking for you. He was delighted you'd missed the flight to America, insisting you hurry along to join the others- handing you your camera as if they truly needed more film from you.

///

You sat with arms crossed in the limo on the way to that next show. Drew kept asking you to help him suss out new lyrics he'd been working on, talking to himself, he realized, when you made no effort to put in your two cents. You kept your mouth shut to avoid spewing out all your useless frustrations. You kept your eyes unfocused, refusing to meet Eddies. He was sat across from you, copying your posture, willing you to catch his intensely held gaze. Ben was there too, crying about the girl he fell in love with last night not coming back to his room with him.

In the blink of an eye, music flooded the stadium during the bands sound check, and you cornered Tony once more. Reminding him of how much footage you'd captured already and wondering how much longer you'd need to keep this up. The manager tried to encourage you to stay on the rest of the tour, because it was anyone's guess the antics that would ensue and the band asked you to be there to capture everything. He reminded the more footage you shot the more money you made.

All you could do was nod along with his speech, when he failed to let you get another word in edgewise. Tony's accented rambles became white noise as you drifted through the motions of a good little backstage busy bee. Steaming shirts from wardrobe, mixing drinks, letting your thoughts tear your own heart in two.

It's just what he does. You told yourself. You were the girl in the dark room alone with Eddie that night. You were just in the right place at the right time. As this mantra played through your mind, a voice cut through your thoughts. Eddie was marching toward you with a finger pointed sternly outward.

"We gotta talk about last night." He demanded.

"There is nothing to talk about." You snapped back. "We were drunk." You hurried to turn out of the doorway the other boys were floating in too; ignoring their curious glances as you and Eddie shared a biting words. On your breeze out you decided your destination would be the backlot, a bit of cool air would do you some good before the venue crowded more.

"Please wait." Eddie called after you, "Where are you going?"

"None of your business." You hissed, aggravated by the way he kept his stride to follow behind your own. You tried to lose his trail on yours, swerving past bustling roadies, but were angered further when Eddie reached a hand out to stop you around a corner.

"Are you just gonna stalk me all night? Cause I certainly didn't invite you to join me."

"Why are you so mad at me?" He begged when you stormed past the heavy doors to the private car park. There was a chill in the wind, and a quiet in the night that was more than inviting.

"You seriously didn't just ask me that." The heavy door slammed as Eddie took a step toward you in the dark night.

"I did and I want your answer. Why are you mad? You told me to keep kissing you! You were the one ripping my fucking pants off!"

"You fuck anything with legs, Eddie! I was waiting for you to tell me that you loved me! That I wasn't just the warm body of the night, the closest thing for you to take to bed. It's my fault too, for expecting sex to matter more when we had it. But the whole thing broke my heart, Eddie. You've known how I've felt about you all this time! But you didn't sleep with me because you liked me. You slept with me to get me to stay."

You struggled to hold back tears, the vice around your throat making the words hard to spit out but you made sure he knew you meant them. His face contorted into a confounded grimace. A look you'd never seen him pull before. Eddie stepped forward again, extending an arm out to you as he began to declare,

"It did matter! I do-"

Before he could finish the backstage door flew open with a thud and a roadie stuck his breathless head out to say... "Eddie, your guitar, it's an emergency you need to come in right now."

"Fuck!" Eddies voice dropped with defeat. He let his arms fall as he spun on his heels to reluctantly face the issue.

The roadie anxiously hurried the guitarist inside and when the heavy stage door finally slammed shut and Eddies muttered curses faded behind it, you let your frustrated tears bubble to the surface.

///

The next week went the same. You sat on opposite ends of tables and corners of the room, away from Eddie. He tried, though, to include you in card games- bringing you styrofoam cups of tea between soundchecks and after shows. You couldn't help but let a grin grow across your lips when he approached you with that pleading look in his eye, but you bit back those smiles best you could and shook your head at his every offer.

Then Eddie would pick a groupie, any groupie, shove those styrofoam cups into her grasp, give her a hand of cards, and shoot glares your way for the next twenty four hours. You were replaceable.

During some midday dart game they demanded you film, the band gathered the collective guts to ask what the hell your problem had been the past few days. You shrugged and mentioned missing home, wishing aloud once more Tony would hook you up with another ticket to Hawkins and approval from MTV. Ben worried instantly, you'd been his closest friend out here. Lonnie and Drew wouldn't hear of it, coxing you to stay, asking Eddie to pitch in his encouragements.

"Tired of fucking trying." He spat angrily, chucking a dart to the board so forcefully it clattered against the wall. Everyone got quiet as Eddie kicked himself out of that greenroom.

Ben managed to get you alone, that same evening, demanding to know what the fuck was really going on.

"I don't just like him. I love him. And you know how bad that can hurt." You admitted with a frown. Ben pursed his lips and nodded a little before pulling you into his side with one arm.

"I'm sorry, angel. Let's just get through the rest of this tour, yeah?"

You nodded and followed the guy to the hotel lobby bar, where he paid for all the shots you shared. Ben got you to talk about what happened between yourself and the guitarist that had the pair of you so obviously at odds. It felt good to get off your chest. Ben was a good listener, and you knew given his recent tumultuous love life that he'd know where you were coming from.

The band put on a kick ass show that night; after Eddie lost the dart game and you'd gotten buzzed enough in the hotel bar to be able to dance along to the bands set by night fall. You slept on the ride back home, unbothered, while the band chatted aimlessly with the MTV rep.

///

The balcony of your hotel room was almost the perfect escape, a little corner of the world you could sit out in without feeling trapped in another room, in another venue. Just you and a vast expanse of trees and stars and the far off view of the city to the north. As you swayed between the sliding doorway and the warm inside of the room, deciding it was best to call it bedtime, there was a knock, soft and gentle.

"Can we talk? Please." Eddie was there he is wearing his glasses. He begged your real name again, and you could see how tired he was. If he wanted sleep he would've been dreaming by now. But he was here at your door, and you'd missed him despite yourself, despite your heartache. So you let him in.

"It's 2am." You worried. The band had an early morning scheduled.

Eddie nodded, taking in the features of your room. And when he asked you out onto your balcony, you couldn't help but smile to yourself. The Australian wind was warm even at night. So there you sat in chairs facing each other, settling into the silence that had grown increasingly louder between the pair of you over the past few days.

"I'm gonna tell you something. And it's going to sound stupid. And I understand if you won't believe me. But it will be the truth, finally."

"Finally?"

"I never didn't like you back." Eddie said, wincing, as if he knew you were going to roll your eyes at the remark.

"Eddie don't-" You were going to warn him not to take the conversation down this path. If he wanted to talk through what happened that was one thing, but he seemed to just keep hurting you more each time he tried.

"No, just listen. Please let me say everything, and then you can take it however you want. Please." Eddie begged. He'd been begging you a lot, the past few days. He took the glasses off his face to pinch the bridge of his nose in frustration. You huffed a sigh and sat back in resignation, bringing your knees to your chest. Eddie leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he went on to speak up again.

"I've had a thing for you, like, this whole time. Like nothing I've ever felt for anyone else. But it was always easier for me to play it off like a joke, like we do. Because I always thought you deserved better. I've always been made to feel like such a dirtbag. I've never felt capable of much in life, you know how hard it was for me to even get out of fucking highschool. I never expected this band to get as big as it has. And even still I'm waiting for it all to blow up in my face. That's why, I think, I let myself get so caught up with all the fame. Because I've been so scared of this all ending. Of being the one to fuck it up." He laughed a little laugh, one filled with what seemed like disgust.

"All that to say that I don't think I'm any good for you, angel. I fucking love you. That's why I wanted you here. That's why I showed up to your room that night. I wanted to kiss you, because I love you. But I.... I did sleep with you to get you to stay... I'm a giant fucking dirtbag. I wish I would've gone about it in a totally different way. Sleeping with you, I mean. That I would've finally gotten the guts to do it because I love you, and not just to stop you from walking out the door. You deserve someone ten thousand times better, smarter, more capable than me. Always have. I'm so sorry I got you so caught up in all this bullshit."

As you sat and listened, Eddie broke your heart all over again with each new word. Flashbacks of the night you spent together bolted past your vision. Memories of the way Eddie smiled at you in that dirty old garage back home, and all the times he'd kiss the crown of your head before a show.

"How fucking dare you decide that you, exactly as you have been, exactly as you are, are not what I deserve." You sat up, letting your feet find the floor as you leaned in to meet Eddies eye. "You're saying we could've been something this whole time, you and me? And you bring me out here and you make me take care of you and you take me bed, and you still won't let me love you?"

"I-I know, I'm sorry I-" Eddies voice wavered and his eyes glossed over with tears, as realization set in.

"You stare me down while you let dozens of girls press themselves all over you, you stop me from hooking up with even one well meaning stranger. Then you fuck me and turn around and tell me you don't think I deserve it, so I still have no shot with you? Do you realize how shitty-"

As you let out your unfiltered frustrations, Eddie started to cry. The tears that had welled in his eyes fell as he kept his sorry gaze locked on yours, when he wasn't blinking hard.

"I don't know why I let this all blow up. Or why I was so scared to just talk to you about this before. I wish I could have gone about it differently, I do. And the thing is I really think I'm in love with you. And I know that I'm making you even more upset by saying all this."

"Well there is a big fucking difference between thinking and knowing." You warbled, your soul aching at the sight of Eddie in such distress. " You've got a lot to prove, if it's true."

"You... you would let me prove it? I haven't entirely fucked everything up?"

"Even if you have, I'm pretty in love with you, remember? Guess you're just lucky that I can't seem to help it. And that's all I meant that night. I wanted you to prove that you cared that I stayed. Not just that you wanted me to."

You talked for a while longer about how swept up in the lifestyle Eddie had become, and how he was living as if all this would end tomorrow. You reminded him that he'd gotten here by way of the very real talent and charisma he had, and no one could take that away from him. You reminded him he had an early morning radio show appearance and that he should get some sleep. And because of his big sad eyes you told him he could stay with you, if he kept his hands to himself. If he really loved you, you'd be more than a quick shag, like all the other girls. Like you were just two nights ago.

"I'm sorry for everything." Eddie stressed all the right syllables, and said so again with even more meaning. "I'm gonna do better." You let him curl against you and apologize himself to sleep as you pet back his hair and assured the guy it was all sort of okay. He had broken your heart, but you were starting to see the bigger picture now.

Despite the pain he'd caused you throughout the course of this tour, you recalled the Eddie you'd known so well before all the fame. You recalled the Eddie from the in between moments, when he'd break out of his stupor enough to make sure you were watching his guitar solos, to make sure you had enough room in the limo. You admired the Eddie at your side now, how you knew he meant what he said. How he'd come to you and stayed and said he'd wanted to stay.

And a tiny hope stayed aflame in your soul that this could actually all work out.

///

The next morning was a rough one, waking up from barely any sleep and being rushed to an interview before the sun rose was an odd form of cruelty. Corroded Coffin managed to look alive during an unplanned photo shoot that followed. You filmed a bit of their tried and true efforts to cause a bit of ruckus, as they posed.

Then came lunch. A small diner on a precarious mountaintop was an unexpected but welcomed respite.

"Black coffee.... four sugars." You glared at Eddie, presenting him the drink as he smile and you slid into the booth across him. You watched as Eddie tradded you a juice he'd previously ordered on your behalf, before taking the coffee mug in his ring clad grasp.

"You're good at it." He mused.

"Huh?"

"There was this girl in Munich. Bless her, she tried. She woke me up one morning with breakfast in bed. Asked me how I took my coffee, I told her. She did it. She got me black coffee with seven sugars. I was pretty disappointed ya know?"

"She gave you what you asked for, Ed." You laughed, a little confused.

"She didn't for one second screech about how unhealthy or gross all the sweet stuff was. She only brought me one coffee closer to diabetes and left me board without anyone to banter with." He laughed. "But you're good at it. Taking care of me."

You just grinned, racking your brain about the place you'd found yourself in. About how Eddie was speaking to you now, and what his words meant.

"Are mom and dad done fighting?!" Drew rang, balancing several plates of breakfast food, setting them on the table to join the booth you and Eddie sat in.

"We're working on it. I'm working on it." Eddie responded, looking right at you.

///

The birthday song boomed from the speakers of a stadium, as Ben sang to Lonnie on stage, leading the audience of thousands to join in. You were in charge of toting out a cupcake in honor of the singers celebration, handing him the dessert in front of several thousand spectators. In one hand, a cupcake, in the other, your camera.

You let your viewfinder pan across the roaring audience before focusing back on the band. Eddie had swiped a bit of icing from Lonnie's birthday treat with one finger for his own. Drew was signing the birthday song again, putting a vulgar spin on the lyrics before the singer insisted the show continue on.

You hurried off stage then, putting your camera away to enjoy life before your own eyes. After Eddie had played the band off stage one by one with a face melting guitar solo, he came bounding right to you. He planted an icing flavored kiss on your lips, a quick, affable gesture- before dashing back onto stage for an encore. He was doing a damn good job of making your head spin, these days.

///

Eddie's attention the rest of the tour, was fully yours. Between shows, he was still parting through crowds to offer you a bottle of Coke. He was still making sure you had a spot at shared dinner table, or dinner plans in general. But if you declined an offer or had to raincheck, you saw no one take your place at his side. He didn't give up.

Eddie left the groupies corralling together, batting their lashes best they could to seduce the guy into plucking one of them out of the buch to play a card game. But he didn't. He only waited for you to join, or left the spot meant for you empty.

"Dinner plans?" His voice wondered hopefully in your ear, as his fingers curled to hold your waist close.

"Lucky for you, Lonnie canceled on me again." You smiled with a roll of your eyes.

"I know, I told him to." Eddie grinned a wicked grin, grabbed your hand and led the way. "Come on kid, this is gonna be a good one."

When the limo deposited the pair of you back at the hotel, you were puzzled. Eddie just kept his mischievous smile and excitedly pulled you along in a rush.

His room was set up with candles and a room service cart full of finger foods and lots to drink. Eddie made a quick call and within moments there was a full bloody five course meal being wheeled into the room.

"Go on, dig in while it's still hot." Eddie nudge you to sit at the head of a haphazardly set, candle lit table, as he rushed around the suite in search of something. You watched as your dear friend set up his portable record player and started to pick through the stack of vinyl he'd bought at the start of the tour. He pulled out the record you'd chosen that long ago day in Monaco, and you couldn't hide your gaiety, giggling past bites of perfectly roasted veggies. You never dreamed there would be time for an evening like this, on tour, or ever, with Eddie.

The guy sauntered over to the table then, pouring you wine before helping himself to all the same things.

"So what happens for you after this tour ends?" Eddie wondered.

You shrugged, noshing. "I go back to the apartment, look for a job I hate less, I don't quite know." You talked about how you'd have enough money saved up from filming to quit your 9 to 5 and still live comfortably for a few months.

"Well I have two questions for you, then."

"Ask em."

"Will you be my date to the documentary premiere? You have to go, since you basically made the whole thing, and I have to go, since I am the star." Eddie boasted with a roll of his eyes that got you to chuckle. "I'd love to walk down that red carpet with you on my arm."

"Setting the bar high for future dates, making the first such a big event." You grinned.

"You can stay at the place the record company has me hooked up with, in L.A., that weekend. And if you wanted to, you could come house shopping with me."

"Is that your second question?"

"No, you actually have no choice there. I'll need your executive decision, picking between expansive Beverly Hills properties." Eddie winked. "My second question is, once we find the perfect mansion, why don't you stay there with me for good? The only way any place will ever feel like home is if you're there."

You gapped at Eddie, mid bite. How was it he kept surprising you? How was it your heart hammered harder every day for this silly little metalhead? How was it he was so fond of you all the while?

"There is nothing in Hawkins to do but work shitty minimum wage retail jobs and waste away. And with all your potential, opportunities are endless for you in L.A.... Plus, all your best friends will be living it up in the city of angels without their very own guardian angel. I'll be without you. And I find that all to be totally unacceptable." He pointed, finishing his plate. You watched Eddie speak, taking in every word as he said them, but not to think of your answer. The both of you already knew you'd say yes. You just wanted to soak up every meaning of the moment you lived in with Eddie, appreciate every detail of the way he'd asked you to continue living life at his side.

"I want you to live with me, and I want us to do this thing, and I want there to be an us."

"What's the dress code?" You chuckled, overwhelmed by his onslaught of hopeful interrogation.

"To our first date at the premier? Black tie, but make it metal. To our Beverly Hills mansion? Well, I was hoping there wouldn't be any at all..."

"Then I'm in." You grinned, giggly and wine buzzed. And with ease, you leaned across the table corner, reached for Eddie, and kissed him. He hummed sweetly, kissing you back right away. It wasn't long before he'd had enough of the space between you, tugging on your sleeve to pull you into the seat he sat in.

"You'll be mine, then? Officially and forever and ever?" He grinned, kissed you, and stopped to look in your eye as you answered.

"I've alway been yours, Ed. And I'll always want to be."

The guitarist pushed his lips against your again, moving to stand. He made sure you kept your legs linked around his waist as he rose, stumbling, as wine tipsy as you. Your shared giggles turned into laughter as he maneuvered the both of you to the bed. This was nothing like the first time.

Eddie asked if he could, before he slowly peeled away each of your layers. This was nothing like the first time.

Eddie took his time, letting his rings leave goosebumps in their wake. Letting his gaze fixate on your every curve, letting his eyes well up as he stared in awe of you, of the moment you were sharing together. This was nothing like the first time.

Eddie's fingers caressed your back as you took your time settling into his lap, your breath shuddered and your insides burned with want and your heart felt right at home. You knew this wouldn't be the last time. Eddie kissed you and promised a big future for the pair of you to share. Eddie rocked against you and promised this was your new normal. Eddie promised he was irreversibly and insanely in love with you.

You knew you're life was bound to change, when Tony called you, that day. But you never imagined just how much. You couldn't wait to dream up new realities with Eddie in the spotlight of every vision. You couldn't wait to watch them come true. Loving Eddie was easy. Eddie loving you back was music to your ears.

#joseph quinn #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson fanfic #rockstar!eddie

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fckeddiemunson · 1 year

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Rockstar!Eddie Munson Sneak Peak

Here’s a little sneak peak of something I’m writing 🥵

#eddie munson #eddie munson smut #rockstar!eddie #rockstar!eddie munson #eddie munson fic #eddie munson one shot #eddie munson x fem reader #eddie munson x f!reader #older!eddie munson #stranger things smut #eddie munson au #sneak peak #fanfic

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translatemunson · 1 year

Text

track five — the ex tapes

warnings: not proofread. female reader.

author's note: THANK YOU FOR ALL THE LOVE DURING THIS SERIES! (sorry i took too long to update). this is the last chapter, and the epilogue will be posted tomorrow! hope you like it!

series masterlist

It has been weeks. Eddie kept his part of the promise. No calls, no mentions of you — actually, he only talked about how amazing it was to work with Charlie Rogers and how he was happy to get someone that’s not usually from the rock scene to work on something so honest, but so powerful at the same time.

Having your name on the credits had turned out to be a thing for a successful song. You were working so much these days that you feel you’re reaching your limits. Of course, working with Corroded Coffin added a few more people interested to your list, and you were trying to fit everyone.

But you just couldn’t.

That’s why you decided to go on a break. It was a good time since Nancy and Robin were in town, so you would have some time to go out and help them find a place to move in. Driving around LA and having late nights with your friends was everything you needed to keep your mind off work.

And away from the new hit song from Corroded Coffin.

Kinda impossible to forget when the song keeps playing non stop at every radio station. A few days ago, you got a special delivery from the band’s manager: a VIP ticket and an official invite to watch them at one of the sold out Los Angeles concerts, where they would play the song live for the first time. Little did he know you already had tickets for the most distant seat from the stage.

That’s where you’re watching the concert right now. You bought their CDs, listened to all their songs, learned how to sing them. And even if it hurted you to admit, you are really liking it. The energy, how they can control the crowd and engage effortlessly.

And Eddie. You can’t take your eyes off him.

The lights are lowered and the instruments stop. Eddie takes the center stage, a different guitar in his hands. It’s the same one he played when you recorded the song. He pulls his hair back and smiles.

“Having a good time?” The crowd screams. “Glad to hear that. I’m kinda nervous, y’know? I have this special song, like you all heard it already and something says it’s a fans’ favorite,” he smiles and you swear he found you in the middle of the crowd. No, it’s just something in your mind. “It’s also my favorite. This one is special because I wrote it with someone that’s really good with words, and I feel like this is more personal than anything that I wrote.”

His confession is followed by a small pause. He scans the faces around, looking at a specific place close to the stage. Maybe that’s where he was expecting to see you. As soon as reality hits — you’re not there, you didn’t accept his offer — he looks to the band and then smiles to the crowd, wearing the Eddie rockstar Munson mask over his sadness.

“I feel like since this is our second sold out show in LA, I might sing it live. What do you think?”

Everyone screams. People know the words to it, and as a songwriter you can’t lie, this is always fulfilling. However this one song hurts the most to hear. Eddie strums the first note and you feel like someone is taking your heart out.

You'll be the saddest part of me

A part of me that will never be mine

It's obvious

Tonight is gonna be the loneliest

Everyone sings it together. You hold your body tightly, but you can’t avoid moving your head with the melody.

There's a few lines that I have wrote

In case of death, that's what I want, that's what I want

So don't be sad when I'll be gone

There's just one thing I hope you know, I loved you so

It’s funny to hear it. You’re almost sure those lines were written by you, but when Eddie sings it, he makes it his.

'Cause I don't even care about the time I've got left here

The only thing I know now is that I wanna spend it

With you, with you nobody else here

Tonight is gonna be the loneliest

Eddie’s voice gets heavier and stronger on the chorus. He’s singing from his heart, it’s more transparent than when you recorded. It’s like he’s in pain, real pain. Heart being torn apart, every single emotion being pulled out of him.

I'm sorry but I gotta go

If you'll ever miss me give this song another go

And I just keep on thinking how you made me feel better

And all the crazy little things that we did together

In the end, in the end, it doesn't matter

If tonight is gonna be the loneliest

It hits you harder than you expect. You’re sobbing, tears rolling down your face. Because this song is so personal it is strange to hear it in the voice of thousands of people. You can’t remember anymore which part it’s yours, which is Eddie’s and which lines you wrote together, eyes connecting and words matching.

As the guitar solo starts, you decide you can’t take it anymore. You hold your bag closer to your chest and walk towards the exit. That’s the limit.

You leave the venue almost immediately. You’re running, the tears making your vision blurry, people asking you if you’re alright. No, you’re not, but you don’t wanna say it out loud. You find the first vacancy cab and give the address to the bar where you're meeting your friends.

It’s not impossible to find Steve waving his arms, complaining about never beating Robin in any game. Robin is laughing, holding their beers and begging Steve to let this go. Nancy sees you first and says “Steve, stop, she’s here.”

“Y/N?” he spots the signs that you’ve been crying. “Come here, you need a drink and a few hugs,” Steve opens his arms, but you can’t move.

“Hey, let’s get your face washed, ok?” Nancy steps in, holding your hand and taking you out of your mind. “We’ll be right back, guys.”

You follow Nancy to the back of the bar, not paying attention to anyone around you. You let her guide you to the sink, get some paper towels and remove the make up stains. You do your best to not start crying again. Nancy whispers that everything is gonna be alright while doing it.

“Do you want me to watch over your drinks tonight? I’m not opposed to the idea of you drinking to get these out, but maybe you should be careful,” she says as she throws away the paper towels.

“No, it’s fine, I’m not drinking today. I promised Steve I would drive his car back, so no alcohol for me.” You check yourself in the mirror, glad that Nancy still does a pretty good job as one of your best friends. “You can drink your weight in alcohol, tho, I’ll let you crash in my bed for the night.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, really. The sofa is comfortable, so don’t worry.”

“Let’s go back, Steve ordered fries and mini burgers before you arrived,” and then Nancy is holding your hand and dragging you back to the table.

Robin moves in the booth to give you space, and you sit across from Steve and Nancy. He looks for any signs that something is very wrong, and when there’s none — already used to your super emotional persona, and he doesn’t think it’s bad — he asks “Did he talk to you?”

“Steve!” Nancy slaps his arm.

“Ouch! No, but really, did he see you?”

“I’ve told you I was going on my own, staying far away from him. So, no, Steve, we didn’t talk,” you feel your lips getting bitter. Robin passes you the soda she got you. “Thanks, Robie.”

“And the song? Did he play it?”

“Yes, he did. And it was perfect,” you admit. “Can we just not talk about it? I'd rather die than think about Eddie Munson.”

“Wait, just one more question!” Robin has the devilish smile that sends a wave of fear through your bones. “Do you still love him?”

“Robin, not a good time,” Nancy rolls her eyes.

“She clearly does, and I’m not letting her run away from this chance.”

“He promised me we would follow our separate paths, and I’m doing my part.” You still didn’t tell any of your friends that Eddie kissed you before you went back home that day. And you would die before sharing this detail.

“Such a talented songwriter, but so dumb. Y/N, really, that boy is in love with you. It’s been weeks since you wrote it, I can’t believe you’re not seeing each other,” Steve says.

“Well, we had a meeting to agree on my part of the deal, but that was it.” Yeah, you walked into the room with your manager, Eddie and his team, but it was a short meeting. He sat there and insisted that you would get the bigger cut of the revenue of the song — since they decided to release it as a special single —, and you just agreed. Papers were signed and that was it. He didn’t even talk directly to you.

“Stupid Y/N,” Robin sights.

“Can we just move on to something else? Please.”

“So, we finally decided on which apartment we’re renting,” Nancy says.

“Please tell me it’s the one close to the beach, I would love to crash there after a long day,” you share your thoughts, even though everyone knows it already. Maybe you should break your lease and get this one.

“Hm, no, actually we made an offer to rent the unit across yours!” Robin shares excitedly. “We should move in next month!”

“And since Johnathan only lives a few hours up north, we are finally gonna be back together!” Robin adds.

“No way!” Steve celebrates. “That’s amazing news! But how did you get it?”

“Oh, Nancy met the lady that owns the place a few days ago and used her persuasive skills to convince her to let us rent it,” Robin explains, dipping her fries in ketchup.

“That’s great! So happy to have you close again! We’re throwing a house welcome party! We can invite some of your LA friends so you could also meet them and create a circle for you as well,” you’re already making plans, finally getting a missing piece back to you.

“Yes! Dinners on me!“ Steve announces.

“I’ll bring the music! And some guys and ladies that might catch your attention,” you blink.

Steve waves to someone behind you, but you assume he’s just calling the waiter to get more beers.

“It’s gonna be one hell of a party!” Robin cheers.

“Am I invited?” The voice you could recognize anywhere.

He steps closer to the table, wearing fresh clothes and his classic denim vest. Robin slips to the middle of the booth and you have no option but to make space for him.

“Eddie, you came!” Steve says and gives you a I’m sorry smile. “How was the concert?”

“It was great. Nancy! Robin! If I knew you were in town, I’d brought you all to the concert,” he takes the vacancy seat by your side and shots you a timid smile. “Did you get the VIP ticket I’ve sent you?”

“You had a VIP ticket and still went with the shitty tickets?” Robin is furious at you.

“So you were there?” Eddie smiles.

There are four pairs of eyes on you and none of it helps with your feelings. You face Eddie and push him out of the place he just took.

“Ouch! Is that a way to treat a rockstar?” He says, a lot of humor in his words.

“Shut up, Munson,” you stare at your friends, “don’t go anywhere without me, or I’m making your lives miserable.”

“Why should we leave?,” Steve makes himself more comfortable, and you know he can’t wait to watch you from the other side of the bar.

“Good luck finding another roommate, Steven.”

“I have two right here,” he points to Nancy and Robin.

You leave the table and Eddie follows you to the exterior area of the bar. He lights a cigarette and leans on the wall.

“I was there,” you admit.

“I know, my manager saw you walk in,” Eddie spills like it’s no big deal. So he knew you were there even before your friends said it. “You should’ve accepted my gift, you know, it would’ve been a better experience.”

“I thought we were walking away from each other's lives.”

“Well, I guess I can’t do it. Because I wanted you there,” his eyes avoid yours like the plague. “But you still went there, on your own terms.”

“Guess I can’t do it as well,” you hug your body and walk until you are face to face with him, “and now we are here.”

“How do you wanna spend your time, darling? Answer truly.”

“You’re not using our song to start this conversation,” you laugh.

“Yes, I am. Because I know that I wanna spend my time with you.”

His words hit you right in the face, and you take a step back. You convinced yourself that the kiss didn’t mean anything to him, because he hadn’t tried to reach you. You were trying to keep your promise, but it was hard not to ignore it when the old flames reignited after the kiss.

“Eddie…”

“No, Y/N, no what ifs this time around. We are older, we have the means to make this work, we are not just two teenagers trying to hurt each other. I just need to know if you feel the same way.” He tosses the cigarette and takes one step closer.

“That’s unfair, Eddie.” The tears roll down your face and Eddie reaches to hold you closer. “The moment I walked into the studio I knew I never had gotten over you. Besides, it was never easy to understand you.”

You expect him to say something. The game you’ve been playing for so long must end. And if it isn’t now, then it’s never. After all, maybe you don’t understand how he makes you feel this way. Faster heart, lighter thoughts, honesty all over your veins.

“You do understand me, darling. You made it very clear with your letters, your poems, your songs, your actions,” Eddie steps into your personal space, hands reaching for your face. “You were the only one that could do it.”

“Yet I still said those terrible things to you.”

“Who cares? I’ve said things I regret as well. But I don’t regret calling you, with my heart in my hands,” your foreheads touch and he lowers his voice. “I wasn't gonna let you slip through my fingers again.”

“Eddie…”

“That promise was stupid. Please.”

His eyes are dark and focused on you. You move your hands to his face, cupping his cheeks and finding out that all the things you love are still there. Eddie is here.

He closes his eyes and sighs, a breathy “I love you” escaping his lips.

“I love you, Eddie,” you confess. “And I will love you until my heart stops beating.”

“Hope this day never comes,” he opens his eyes. “Because I've been stupidly in love with you since the day we met.”

The confession is raw. You expect him to kiss you like that day in the studio, but when his lips press your cheeks, you get it. The whole world is watching the both of you: he’s on the stage, you’re in the studios. And he wants to take things slow. And you’re fine with that, as long as he never leaves you again.

“Let’s go back inside and annoy the shit out of those idiots,” you suggest, and he laughs.

“Just like old times?”

“Better than them.”

taglist: @lokiofasgard616 @munsonology @sidthedollface2

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader #rockstar!eddie munson #eddie munson #rockstar!eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x f!reader #rockstar!eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x you #songwriter!reader x eddie munson #songwriter!reader x rockstar!eddie munson

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eiightysixbaby · 6 months

Text

i love it loud

word count: 6.5k+

pairing: rockstar!eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: you get invited to corroded coffin’s halloween party with your best friend chrissy. you don’t anticipate on having much fun, but that changes when you meet eddie…

cw: 18+ ONLY - SMUT. alcohol consumption, a rogue billy tries to hit on reader, use of petnames, use of y/n (like maybe a few times), oral (f receiving), fingering (f), unprotected p in v - he pulls out tho!, brief description of reader’s costume but no mention of body type/etc.

You didn’t want to go to this party. Not really. Your best friend had insisted you come with her, because arriving alone would, in her words, be social suicide. Being invited to Corroded Coffin’s Halloween party was a big deal, she’d said, even though you know she was only invited because she’s been going out with the drummer. Of course he’s going to invite his girlfriend.

You hadn’t even had a plan for a costume, and with only a couple day’s notice you didn’t have the time to prepare something good. The stores were all picked over as far as Halloween costumes go, and so you went with the most basic, half-assed option you could’ve possibly selected.

You’re dressed as a cat.

It feels silly, it feels low-effort and stupid and basic, but here you are with your fluffy tail and soft felt ears, black high heels and whiskers painted on your face. A pink nose to top it all off. You did think you looked good, you had to admit, but it definitely wasn’t the costume you would’ve preferred. You awkwardly adjust your stockings as you step up to the front door of the large house, feeling horrendously out of place.

You glance at Chrissy beside you, her hippie costume bright and colorful - an extreme contrast to your all black attire.

“Okay, just texted Gareth that we’re here,” she says, slipping her phone into her bag. “Don’t look so thrilled,” she says sarcastically, pouting at you.

“Sorry I’m not exactly excited to be at a party where I know no one,” you say.

“You know me and Gareth,” she replies, looking at you like she’s confused.

“I barely know Gareth. And don’t act like the two of you won’t be running off to bang the second you get a chance,” you smile at her, knocking shoulders playfully.

“Listen… his friend Eddie, the lead singer, is super hot. Maybe you’ll get more than you bargained for tonight.”

“I don’t know, Chris. There’s going to be a million girls at this party, do I really want to be another notch on some rockstar’s belt?” you ponder.

She doesn’t get the chance to respond before the front door is swinging open in front of you. The figure on the other side is… Peter Criss. More like, Gareth dressed as Peter Criss. Fully outfitted in leather and silver studs, hair spray painted black with white and black cat makeup on his face. You laugh a little as you take him in, and he shoots you a teasing glare.

“Hey ladies,” he greets, pulling Chrissy in for a quick kiss. “Y/N, I’m so glad you decided to come.”

“You know Chris always gets what she wants,” you reply with a laugh, and he laughs with you, agreeing.

He steps to the side, ushering you both into the large foyer of the house. It’s decked out in Halloween decor; bats on the walls, fake cobwebs, hairy toy spiders with light-up red eyes. There’s orange and purple string lights hung about, and you’re honestly impressed with the detail. The house is clean, aside from the stray cup or plate left behind from the current party guests, and the decorations are carefully placed.

“Holy shit, you guys really did it up for the party,” you say, eyes wandering to every corner.

“Oh yeah, that’s all Eddie. He loves Halloween. It was his idea for us to dress like KISS,” Gareth says with a playful eye roll.

“Don’t complain, you look so good in that outfit…” Chrissy says, trailing a finger down his chest.

“I’ll have to give you the official house tour,” he says to your friend. “You coming too?” he asks you, but you shake your head.

“Think I’ll get myself a drink,” you say, sticking out your thumb in the direction of the kitchen.

“Sounds good. There’s stuff on the counter and a bar out back by the pool, you can go wherever you’d like,” Gareth says with a smile, and it’s genuine. “Make yourself at home, say hey if you see the other guys around! You can’t miss ‘em, they’ll be dressed like me,” he adds, and you laugh, waving them off as Chrissy tells you to text her if you need anything at all.

You wander into the open kitchen, pleased with the selection of liquor that awaits you. If you’re going to be spending the night alone, you might as well get pleasantly drunk, you think to yourself. People are scattered throughout the room, talking with their circles of friends and acquaintances. There’s a couple different punch bowls filled with various concoctions, each one labeled with the contents. You take your pick of the poison, scooping the liquid up with a ladle and filling your cup.

You scrunch your face as you take the first sip, lips pursing as you adjust to the bite of the alcohol. You glance around the kitchen, taking note of even more decorations as you slink into a corner alone. They seem to fill the whole house, seeping into the living room and the dining room, any area that you can see. Gareth had said it was all Eddie’s doing, and you find yourself growing more curious about the man in question. You really didn’t know anything about Corroded Coffin, didn’t care much to do any research, you only knew what Chrissy told you.

You know that Grant, the rhythm guitarist, has rich parents, and that his dad bought the house for the band to live in while they’re recording their album. Chrissy always says Grant’s the nerdiest of the bunch, insanely smart and very friendly. You know that Jeff, the bassist, is apparently a sweetheart, a bit shy but would give you the shirt off of his back, and you know that Eddie…. well, you know that he’s supposedly “super hot”. Other than that, you’re drawing a blank. Chrissy hasn’t said much about him at all, now that you really consider it. Maybe he’s an introvert and doesn’t come around often, or maybe he’s a complete dick. He is a rockstar, after all. And there’s plenty of pretty women in his house right now, so… you can gather a few assumptions, to say the least.

You don’t get much more time to ponder the subject before you hear loud, raucous laughter coming in through the sliding doors to the backyard. Two figures stumble in, but in the dim light you can’t get a good look right away.

“I was made for lovin’ you baaaabyyyyyy!” a voice booms, and you don’t need more confirmation that it comes from another member of the band.

“How many times are you gonna sing that tonight?” the other voice counters, and you finally see two unfamiliar men walking towards the kitchen, dressed like other members of KISS.

The annoyed voice comes from the stand-in Gene Simmons of the evening, a frizzy black wig on his head and the signature makeup on his face, making him stand out. He sticks his tongue out obnoxiously at the other man, eliciting a laugh from him. Your eyes flit over, then, to the taller figure. Your attention is immediately grabbed — he’s intriguing right away and you aren’t quite sure why. Tall, slim, with a head of shaggy hair that diminishes his need for a wig for the costume. He’s dressed like Paul Stanley, a black star around his eye, surrounded by a face otherwise full of white makeup. He’s not wearing a shirt, at all, just a thick black studded collar around his neck and leather pants. Chunky heeled boots are on his feet, making him appear taller than just about everyone else in the room.

And if he’s dressed like the singer of KISS, then you can only assume this is Eddie. The singer of Corroded Coffin.

“Oh fuck off, Jeff. Have a little fun! It’s Hallo-fucking-ween, dude,” presumably-Eddie says, leaning into Jeff’s space.

“Sorry my idea of fun isn’t listening to your drunk ass sing KISS songs, Ed,” Jeff says, and the nickname gives you confirmation that this is, in fact, your guy.

Eddie just so happens to look up in that moment, his eyes falling upon yours unintentionally. He smiles at you, genuinely smiles at you, all while playfully rolling his eyes at Jeff’s comment. You giggle into your plastic cup, feeling like the two of you are the only people in the room for a moment. He gives you a teeny little wave, the slightest wiggle of his fingers, and you feel your heart rate increase as you return it. What is wrong with you? You were going to blame the alcohol, for the time being.

The moment is gone as soon as it came, Eddie’s attention getting redirected. You watch in fascination as they pour drinks for themselves, easily greeting the other partygoers who come up to them, eager to talk to the hosts. There’s a swarm of girls around Eddie in thirty seconds flat, and your heart deflates, much to your own dismay. Why should it bother you? He doesn’t even know you, and you don’t know him. Chrissy’s implication that you might hit it off with Eddie tonight is letting you get too in your own head, you decide, trying to shake it off.

You scoff, watching as a girl dressed like a devil leans on the counter into Eddie’s space, pressing her breasts together as much as she can. Her fake fangs are exposed as she laughs too loud at something he says, her bright red lipstick accentuating her mouth. You want to internally criticize her and her basic costume, before you’re reminded of your imitation of the most basic furry friend to ever grace Halloween.

As if on cue, someone comes up behind you and yanks on your tail, making you jump. Your drink sloshes over the rim of the cup at the sudden motion, splashing against the front of your outfit. You spin on your heel, met with the face of an unfamiliar man, which really isn’t saying much since almost every face here is unfamiliar.

“Can I help you?” you snark, flattening your lips in a straight line.

“Woah, calm down, pussy cat. Don’t have to bring the claws out,” the man says, smirking at you as if he has genuinely no clue why you’re bothered.

He reaches one arm out, flattening his palm against the wall behind you and leaning his weight on it, towering over you. He smells like cigarettes and booze, and you watch as his tongue pokes out to wet his lips.

“If you don’t mind,” you snap. “I really need to go wash the liquor out of my costume. Asshole,” you mutter the last part, ready to make your exit when the stranger grabs your arm.

“Going so soon? I thought we’d make friends,” he smiles at you, blue eyes piercing down at you as you grow wildly more uncomfortable.

“I’ll pass,” you emphasize, stomping the heel of your boot down onto his foot.

He yelps in pain, releasing your arm and allowing you to speed-walk out of the crowded kitchen. You can see various pairs of eyes on you as you scurry out, and you can hear your victim cursing you out through the bass coming through the stereo.

You high-tail it out the back door, heels clicking aggressively on pavement as you push through more people surrounding the pool. You finally stop to calm yourself down when you find a lull in the crowds, a spot where you can be relatively alone. You silently thank yourself that the stranger didn’t follow you, but what you didn’t realize is that someone else had.

You exhale, bringing your drink to your lips and taking a swig. Your now-wet top clings to your skin, aggravating you, but the last thing you want to do is wander back into the house in search of the bathroom.

“H-hey, um, are you alright?” a voice rings out directly behind you.

You jolt just slightly, not expecting company. Turning to face the other person, your eyes first land on those big, black platform boots. Eddie had followed you. Your gaze trails up his figure, leather pants and studded belt and bare torso, until you meet his eyes for the second time this evening.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” he says, “I just wanted to make sure you were okay. I saw what happened in there and, uh, to be honest I don’t even know why we keep inviting Hargrove to these things—” Eddie rambles, as if Hargrove is a familiar name to you, as if he’s nervous to be around you — like he isn’t the star-studded host of this party.

“I’m okay,” you reply, cutting off his sentence, smirking a little. “Thanks for checking on me.”

“Oh, yeah, of course. I know these parties can get crazy, but… I always want to make sure everyone’s safe,” he says, his gaze softening as he says the last part. “I’m Eddie, by the way,” he introduces, holding out a hand for you to shake.

You immediately notice the big, silver rings adorning many of his fingers, your eyes lingering on them for maybe a second too long before you remember he’s waiting for you. You extend a hand, grasping his and shaking it.

“Y/N,” you reply. “I, uh, I’m here with Chrissy.”

“Oh, you’re Cunningham’s friend!?” he asks, lighting up at that. Excited as he says it as if you’re the celebrity here, not him.

You nod, smiling at him now.

“Damn, and she already ditched you to go screw Gareth, I’m assuming?” he jokes, and you laugh, feeling lighter by the second. Forgetting your less-than-pleasant encounter from moments ago.

“Yeah, how’d you know?” you say sarcastically, smiling wider when he snorts.

There’s a pause, you can feel him staring at you as you take another sip of alcohol. “Well, I’m a little offended she didn’t tell me that she had such a beautiful friend,” he says, and you feel your cheeks grow warm at his forwardness.

You duck your head, avoiding his eyes as your face scrunches in a shy smile. “Ah, there’s the rockstar charm,” you say, loving the sound of his laugh that comes in response.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he playfully asks, cocking his head as he leans forward to meet your gaze.

“How many other girls have you used that line on tonight?” you counter, playful but keeping a safe distance.

“Ouch, sweetheart. You really take me for that much of a player?” he stumbles back, clutching his chest as if he’s been wounded. Your eyes linger maybe too long on the tattoos littering his torso, the slight smattering of hair on his pale skin.

“Well, you are parading around your own party shirtless. Seems like a tool move to me,” you smirk, finishing off your drink with one last sip.

“Darling, you’re dressed like a cat. I don’t think you can come for my costume right now,” he flashes his perfect teeth at you, unable to contain his smile at your banter.

There’s a moment of silence, you staring out across the yard at the bright lights of the city down below, stretching vast and far. Then he speaks up again.

“I mean it. I think you’re really beautiful.”

“Thank you. You’re very pretty,” you say honestly, letting yourself give in to his flirtations.

“Is it the makeup? Am I gonna have to wear this every time I see you now?”

You giggle. “Every time? Are there going to be more times, mister rockstar?”

“I mean, I’d love to take the time to get to know you outside of a party setting, if that’s okay with you,” he smiles bashfully, and you can only assume he’s blushing under all of that makeup.

“Yeah. I think that’s okay with me,” you reply.

Conversation flows easily with Eddie, the less-than- pleasant encounter with the stranger and the spilled alcohol on your shirt long forgotten. He tells you about his life before the band started to make it big, how he always dreamed of being a rockstar. He shyly told you about how he used to parade around his home as a kid, playing his little guitar and singing songs he made up until his uncle was begging him to quiet down and go to bed.

You confess that you really didn’t know much about the band, other than things Chrissy had told you, and you apologize although he tells you it’s absolutely not necessary.

You both end up sitting in the grass side-by-side, talking so much you don’t even remember making the choice to sit, it just happened. There’s a lull in the conversation, his eyes searching yours before glancing down to your lips. He moves just slightly closer, his breath hitting your face with each exhale. You feel yours catch in your throat, anticipating his next move.

You don’t get the chance to see what that move is before the girl in the devil costume from the kitchen approaches. She instantly has her hands on Eddie, grabbing his arm with a red-gloved hand and pulling him to stand. “Eddieeee, come on! You have to come play spin the bottle with us!” she pleads, her voice too whiny to not be part of an act.

“I- uh,” he stumbles, looking at you with an emotion you can’t place.

The girl moves to stand in front of him, putting her hands on his chest now, starting to push him backwards. “Come on, it’s no fun if you don’t play,” she continues, her shrill voice grating in your ears.

You don’t like how close she’s getting, how unafraid she is to be touchy with him. Who even is she? Are they friends? Are they more than friends? She’s pushing him further away from you by the second, not once acknowledging your presence. You scoff, looking to the side, avoiding Eddie’s gaze.

Before Eddie can really do anything, he’s being shoved fully away from you. You don’t see the way he desperately looks to you for an out, simply bothered by the fact that this girl won’t leave him alone.

You wonder if you were right, if he called you beautiful just like he calls every other girl beautiful. You didn’t want to believe it, but, he’s about to go play a game with a bunch of drunk people where the whole point is to kiss each other, so. It’s not looking great for you.

You’d be lying, though, if you said your curiosity wasn’t peaked. You find yourself bored watching partygoers splash around in the pool, and you can’t shove down your internal need to find out what mister rockstar and the devil girl are up to inside. Your feet are carrying you before you can decide against it, leading you back inside, back through the kitchen where you pour yourself another drink, and then to the living room where you find a large group sat in a circle.

You hang back, just slightly, not wanting to make it too obvious that you’re watching the game, even though you aren’t the only one who came to spectate. To be completely honest, the first few spins you witness aren’t very exciting. You don’t know any of these people, so what should it matter to you if they kiss? You’re about to step away when the circle erupts with various ‘Ooooh’s and whistles.

“Come on, Eddie! You gotta do it!” a now very drunk Jeff screams.

To your absolute horror, Eddie had spun the bottle, only for it to land on the little bitch whose name you still don’t know in the devil costume. Eddie looks at the girl, who is very clearly eagerly awaiting a kiss from the singer of Corroded Coffin, but then he looks up at you.

You didn’t think he’d realized you were there, didn’t think he saw you lurking, but he looked at you too pointedly for it to have been an accident.

You swallow, suddenly feeling awkward amongst the silence of the room. Everyone’s watching Eddie, expecting him to get his kiss over with and move on. He stands finally, stepping forward. You almost want to look away, not interested in watching him lock lips with someone that isn’t you. But you can’t look away, not when he bypasses the anonymous girl and heads right for you.

“Um, I’m right here!” she says, her tone snarky and honestly annoying enough to make you want to slap her.

“Yeah, well I’m not kissing you, Tina,” Eddie says. “Spin the bottle. What are we, fourteen?” he asks, eyes still locked on you as he stands merely a step away now.

Your heart thumps in your chest, every bit of your nervous system attuned to him. Your mouth hangs slightly open, not knowing what to do or what to say.

He steps even closer, closing the distance between you. “I want to kiss you, that okay?” he murmurs, letting one hand rest so gently on your waist.

You want to laugh in Tina’s face. You want to point and laugh and rub it in, but that wouldn’t be the appropriate response here. You need to kiss Eddie, sooner rather than later.

You just nod, a smile playing on your lips. He leans his face closer to yours, hovering by your ear to whisper, “I’m sorry, about her. She’s… a friend of a friend who always ends up at our parties. Trust me, I have no interest there.”

The reassurance really isn’t necessary, you barely know Eddie after all, but it’s extremely appreciated. You feel your heart flutter a little, smug and satisfied all in one. And then his lips are on yours, not giving a damn who’s watching, not a care in the world for what anyone might say.

His lips are soft, warm against yours and the way he cradles the back of your head in his hands makes you weak at the knees. Your noses brush before you pull away, and the two of you giggle in unison like you just shared some exciting secret with each other.

Tina is dumbfounded where she sits on the carpet, watching you. You swear steam would be coming out of her ears if this was a cartoon. You give her a little wave and an all-too-fake smile before Eddie grabs your hand to lead you away.

Not a single word is spoken as he pulls you out of the living room, you’re silent until you reach the stairs to go up to the second floor.

“So you really don’t have history with Tina?” you playfully ask, pressing the issue just to be a pain, and he groans.

“Ugh, god, no. Like I said, she always ends up at these things and she’s all over me. But the funny part is, we went to high school together. She bullied the crap outta me,” he explains, and you can’t help but laugh. “Spread some nasty rumors on social media…” he shakes his head, smirking at the thought now.

“Of course,” you roll your eyes, “Now where are you taking me, rockstar?” you grab his waist once you’ve reached the top of the stairs, pulling him closer to you.

“To my room, because there’s no way I can handle any more interruptions tonight,” he says, his hands finding your hips, pressing his forehead to yours for a moment.

Another kiss is ghosted over your lips, open-mouthed and teasing, leaving you chasing after him when he pulls away and starts to walk down the hallway. He opens the dark wood door, gesturing for you to enter first.

The second he’s inside with you, his mouth is on yours, your back pressed to the wall as his hands grip your waist. He fumbles with the light switch behind you, providing a dim glow throughout the room. He wastes no time slipping his tongue past your lips, licking inside of your mouth and groaning when your tongue meets his. Your noses brush and you’re sure his makeup is getting smeared on your face, or vice-versa, and the thought makes you smile into the kiss. His lips work their way down to your jaw, nipping and mouthing at the skin before residing on your neck, sucking till it stings.

You hiss, arching your back into him, hands grabbing at his bare shoulders as your nails dig into the skin.

“Shit, sweetheart,” Eddie breathes, hands grabbing your face as he brings you in for another heated kiss.

He starts to walk backwards, guiding you with him towards his bed. His boots are kicked off of his feet carelessly, and you toe off your heels in tandem. He reaches the mattress, falling back onto it and scooting backwards until he’s fully on the bed. You follow his lead, straddling his lap and letting your hands roam his bare chest. He watches you like you’re an ethereal being, eyes big and round and completely full of desire. His hands wrap around to grab your ass beneath the fabric of your skirt, filling his open palms with the soft flesh and squeezing.

Your hands waste no time in finding their way to the zipper of his pants, tugging it down after undoing the button.

“Need these off, Ed,” you say, sounding more whiny than you’d wanted. Your face gets hot at the smirk he gives you in return.

“Oh, so we’re desperate now, huh?” he says, the cocky rockstar demeanor coming out in full-swing. It makes you embarrassingly flustered, your cunt throbbing for him.

All you can do is nod, your hand trailing over the bulge that waits for you beneath fabric.

“Fuck,” he curses under his breath, starting to shimmy his pants down his thighs.

You remove yourself from his lap, letting him undress — your mouth practically watering when his cock springs free and smacks against his stomach. He’s fully naked for you now, given that he already wasn’t wearing a shirt. All that’s left is the studded choker around his neck, and it makes you drool.

“Like what you see, baby?” he asks, a smug little grin on his face as he watches the way you take in his entire body.

You already noticed the tattoos on his chest and arms, but now you’re noticing the ones on his thighs. He’s unreal, so unfairly gorgeous and captivating. He’s perfectly sculpted, a sharp V carved into his pelvis that simply leads your eyes down a path to his perfect cock. It’s big — long and not too thick, veiny with a pink, leaking tip. He must catch your intrigued expression, because he laughs, a devious little sound that tells you he can’t have any pure intentions.

“Why don’t you lay down so I can get you ready to take this cock?” he purrs, slender fingers stroking up and down one side of your body.

You shudder at his touch, moving to lay down on his bed. You pull your shirt off before you do, leaving your black, lacy bra on display for the man beside you. Your tits rest perfectly in it, and Eddie’s sure to get an eyeful. His hands gently hold your hips once you’re situated comfortably, partially laying down with your back propped against his many fluffy pillows. He leans down, letting his lips graze over your jaw, your cheek, your nose, before finally pressing to your mouth. He brings one hand up, pulling your cat-ear headband off of your head, deciding it can’t be very comfortable to have on for hours at a time. It makes you breathe a little laugh into the kiss, remembering how silly you must look with your painted on whiskers and nose.

He doesn’t give you much time to dwell on it, his mouth pulling off of yours and starting to travel down your neck. He kisses your shoulders, your collarbone, sucking on the most sensitive bits of skin and making you whine as you wriggle beneath him. He finds his way down to your breasts, hands sliding your bra straps down your shoulders as you arch your back for him, giving him room to unhook the clasp that sits at your spine. His lips immediately attach to one of your pert nipples, sucking and swirling his tongue around the small bud. One of his large hands cups your other breast, the cold silver of the rings on his fingers a sharp contrast to your searing skin.

He switches after a moment, sucking the opposite nipple into his warm, wet mouth. Something akin to a growl leaves his mouth when your fingers tangle in his hair and tug, and it spurs you on to keep going. His lips unlatch themselves from your breast, his mouth moving down down down, trailing kisses everywhere it goes. Your cunt throbs when his mouth approaches the waistband of your tight little skirt, his eager hands hooking beneath the fabric and beginning to yank it down, along with your underwear.

He peppers kisses lower and lower on your body, his mouth following close behind the clothes that he pulls off of you, covering every inch of skin as it’s exposed to him. He discards everything onto the floor, definitely tearing your stockings in the process of ripping them off of you. Your mind is a blur as he hastily attaches his lips to your clit, slipping one finger inside of you with complete ease. You weren’t expecting all of the stimulation so suddenly, your body writhing on the mattress as he sucks your sensitive clit into his mouth.

“More, Eddie, need more,” you pant, knowing you’re probably being greedy but knowing all the same that he won’t deny you what you want.

He hums against your cunt, immediately adding a second finger inside of you. He curls the digits, collecting your sticky wetness and groaning at the filthy noises that his movements make. Your hands tug harder on his hair as you throw your head back onto the pillows, cursing at how good he feels. Going in, you had no idea how tonight would play out, but you certainly didn’t expect to be hooking up with the frontman of Corroded Coffin. Your head spins at the thought of how many other people would probably die to be in your position right now, and it only makes you more turned on.

“Want one more, baby? Need to make sure you can take my fingers before you take my cock,” he purrs, smirking up at you.

“Yeah, please, I can take it,” you reassure him, and he slips a third finger in.

His fingers are thick, no doubt about it, and they stretch you so deliciously you feel like you could cry. The silk sheets beneath you feel cold against your skin, easing the heat that floods your entire body. You grip them with one hand, the other still in Eddie’s hair as he flicks his tongue back and forth over your clit in the perfect rhythm. He doesn’t dare change his pace, not with the way you’re moaning his name like a siren song, drawing him more and more into you.

You’re rapidly approaching your release, that much he knows, and he wants to send you free-falling over that edge. The way you suck his fingers right in practically makes him drool, he can’t get enough. Loud, shrill moans of his name leave your mouth as he curls his fingers into that perfect soft spot inside of you, and Eddie couldn’t care less if the whole damn house can hear you.

“Gonna cum, Eddie, ohmygod—” you’re cut off mid-sentence, the air stolen from your lungs as you come undone for him.

You squeeze around his fingers, soaking him as your body trembles. He pulls them out of you, slowly bringing them to his lips, making sure your eyes are on him. He sucks the digits clean of your juices, humming contently around them. You ache for him, your body desperate to have him even though it’s only been seconds since he’d been pleasuring you.

He moves to hover over you, reattaching his lips to yours in a heated kiss. It’s somehow gentle and rough at the same time, a weird but enticing juxtaposition. He tastes like you and it drives you crazy as your mouths clash together, all teeth and tongues.

“Fuck, baby, hold on. Let me get a condom,” Eddie says, nearly breathless as he pulls away.

“No— want you to fuck me raw,” you mewl, reaching out to stop him as he goes to stand.

“Baby…” he says, looking at you with uncertainty. He never goes without a condom, and certainly doesn’t want you to feel pressured to forgo one.

“Please, Eddie. Just pull out,” you plead with him, and you honestly can’t believe your nerve right now. Begging the famous rockstar you just met to fuck you raw, as if you have all of this power over him. What you don’t know is that Eddie already wants to give you anything you ask for.

“Okay, alright, sweetheart. Whatever you want,” he says, leaning down to kiss your forehead before positioning himself on top of you.

He lines his cock up with your entrance, and you can feel the way you throb for him. You know you’re even more soaked than before, and you hardly worry about whether or not he’ll fit.

“You ready?” he asks sincerely. Big brown eyes searching yours for your approval.

“Mhm,” you hum, letting your eyes flutter closed when you feel him start to press in.

Moans leave each of your mouths in unison as he sinks inside inch by inch. Your nails dig in to the skin on his back, dragging down when he bottoms out inside of you. He hisses, breathing heavy as he tries to gain some composure. You feel so good around him, too good, and it takes all of his focus to not bust immediately.

“Please move, need you to move,” you whine, looking up at him with your big, pleading eyes.

He nods, “Okay, baby. Gonna give it to you so good, yeah?”

He starts thrusting, slowly at first, dragging his cock almost fully out of you before rutting back in. The air is forced from your lungs, your mouth open in a silent moan. His movements stay slow like that for a little while, giving you the friction you need but still teasing. Moans leave your lips as he slowly pushes himself all the way in, letting you fully feel the way he stretches your walls to fit him.

He starts to speed up then, setting a steady pace as he fucks into you harder. He does it so well, filling you to the brim and making you clench around him. You can feel every vein and ridge on his cock, the pleasure making your body erupt in goosebumps.

“Shit, feel so fucking good, sweetheart,” Eddie pants, his hips smacking against yours roughly. “Wanna try something different?” he asks, waiting for your approval which comes without hesitation.

He pulls out of you, making you wince slightly. He stands at the side of the bed, coaxing you to move towards him. You oblige, scooting right to the edge of the mattress. Strong hands grip your legs, hoisting your feet up onto his shoulders, exposing you perfectly to him. You feel more vulnerable like this, and it makes you antsy as you wait for him to slide back in. When he does, you see stars. The angle is perfect, his cock hitting spots it couldn’t before. You watch as he throws his head back, the muscles in his neck prominent as he clenches his jaw, a guttural groan escaping him.

“You’re so damn beautiful, so fucking gorgeous,” he says, looking back down at you with sincere eyes. “How’d I get the most perfect girl on the planet?”

And then he bends down, your legs still hooked over his shoulders, your body practically folded in half now. You nearly scream out his name, the lewd sounds of his balls slapping against your skin filling the space. He leans down to kiss you, his lips and firm against yours, muffling your pretty noises. He pulls away, letting out a smug little chuckle at the way you instantly moan for him, noticing the tears pricking in the corner of your eyes.

“Gonna cry for me, baby? My cock feels so good you’re gonna cry about it?” he teases, watching your brow furrow in concentration as you get closer and closer to release.

“You’re very — fuck — very fucking modest,” you choke out, trying and failing to bite back your whimpers.

He laughs again, burying his face in the crook of your neck. “You know you fucking love it,” he murmurs, teeth biting at your earlobe before he pulls away. “I can tell you love it, cause you’re suckin’ me in like you were made for me.”

You let out a whine at his words, pinching your eyes shut in pure ecstasy as he continues to split you open. “Fuck, Eddie, don’t stop,” you plead, your body jolting with every harsh thrust he gives you.

He grunts as he fucks you faster, watching in awe as your tits bounce on your chest. He can feel how soaked you are for him, can see your cream pooling around the base of him when he sheathes himself fully inside.

“You gonna cum for me again, sweetheart?” he rasps, leaning down to kiss along your jawline.

All you can get out is a wobbly “Uh-huh,” nodding your head to the best of your ability. His fingers dig in to the meat of your thighs, a dull ache from his harsh grip barely noticeable in the back of your mind. One hand moves from its spot on your leg to reach down and play with your clit, the pad of his thumb rubbing quick circles over it.

Your back arches off the mattress, your legs shaking as you cry out his name. A few more deep thrusts and you’re plummeting over the edge for the second time tonight, your cunt tensing up around him over and over. The way your walls flutter around his cock brings him dangerously close to release, and he pulls his cock out quickly before he’s pumping it in his fist. All it takes is a few strokes before ropes of his cum are covering your body, splattering over your bare chest and stomach.

You let your legs drop from his shoulders, aching as you stretch them out. You feel like you’re made of rubber, limbs wobbly as your feet drop to the floor.

“Holy shit,” is all you can say, staring up at his ceiling as he chuckles at you from the side of the bed.

“You’re so damn perfect,” he says, shaking his head with a sweet little smile. He stretches, muscles flexing as he raises his arms to the ceiling, cocking an eyebrow at you when he catches you staring.

“Says you…” you reply, pulling the sheets up to hide your face, suddenly shy.

“Let me get you cleaned up, yeah?” he asks, holding out his arm for you, pulling you up when you take his hand.

When you step out of the shower with him, after your body has been cleaned and every inch of your skin has been kissed by his soft mouth, he gives you his big clothes to put on. You change and brush your hair, letting his hands hold your waist as he tries to invade your space to kiss you even more. You can’t help but admire his face, even more gorgeous now that his Halloween makeup is washed down the drain.

You both shuffle out of the bedroom carefully afterwards, trying to gauge how much the party has died down, only to be met with a laugh from the opposite end of the hallway.

Your head shoots up, seeing Gareth and Chrissy stepping out of his room, looking wildly similar to you and Eddie; costumes off, makeup off, a few extra hickeys on Gareth’s neck. Chrissy’s mouth hangs open, her eyes flitting from you to Eddie and back again.

“I told you!!” she shouts, giggling before Gareth takes her hand, pulling her down the stairs with him.

You try to bite back a smile, heat creeping up to your face.

“What exactly did she tell you, sweetheart?” Eddie smirks down at you, pulling your body to his. His cocky expression gives you the hint that he already has an idea.

“Shut up, rockstar.”

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