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eddiernunson · 5 months ago

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Ice Cream, Bikinis, and Other Ways to Torture Him | Older Rockstar!Eddie Munson x Harrington!Fem!Reader | 18+

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Summary: The stories of Eddie Munson, front man of Corroded Coffin and his music filled the Harrington household, his albums on shelves and picture frames hung of your dad and him, young and dumb. You're home for the weekend, which so happens to be the same weekend Eddie is in Hawkins on a personal errand. The longtime crush on him bubbles to the surface as you meet him, giving into the temptation of small summer dresses and bubblegum gloss for the fun of it. Until your dad is called in to an emergency work meeting. Then the fun of torture becomes temptation.

Warnings: Older Rockstar!Eddie, Harrington!Reader (Steve's daughter), multichapter build up, excessive use of nicknames, no use of y/n, use of marijuana, perv!Eddie

Describes: long hair, shorter than Eddie by a few inches, reader is described to look like her mom (can be ANY race) with Steve's freckles. No skin colour, body shape/type

Word count: 5.3k

P2 Will Be Up Next Thursday and every Thursday from then on!

The sounds of the morning Saturday cartoons fill the living room, background noise as you scroll through your phone while slowly working your way through your bowl of cereal. Droplets of milk occasionally drip onto your lap, landing on your bare thigh as the videos you scroll through don’t seem to compute.

For the thousandth time you spill milk on your lap, you huff out of annoyance as you wipe it off with the edge of your sweaters sleeve. Maybe scrolling through your phone and eating something with liquids wasn’t a good idea for someone as klutzy as you.

From the kitchen, your dad walks out as he uses a T-towel to dry his hands. “You listening, sunshine?”

”Huh?” You blurt out, the video you were half paying attention to still playing.

He breaks into a smile, shaking his head as he tosses the towel over his shoulder. “Guess not. You have any plans this weekend?”

You shake your head, wiping your mouth of the excess milk of this bite when you had scooped too big of a bite. “Naomi is working for the summer and Marley got stuck watching her little brother all weekend.”

Coming home to see your dad for the week is nice, granted it would probably be nicer if you could see either of your 2 friends. You’d have to settle for Steve being extra doting on you, given you’re only one of four of his kids in the house for the moment. What you would give to have your snot mouth brother in town just for two seconds to make the extra big house just a little bit smaller.

He nods, rubbing his hands together. You can see the slight hesitation in his eyes, watching the cartoon as if he had forgotten the conversation which he had started.

“Dad?” His brown eyes switch to you, smirking at your expectant face.

“Right. I was hoping you’d be out of the house a bit more,” he sighed, popping his knuckles anxiously. ”I have an old friend that will be staying with us for the weekend. I thought if you were out of the house it might make things slightly less awkward.”

Your eyebrows furrow, curious as to what he might mean. You’ve gotten to know any old friend of his that might be expected to stay for the night, ducking their many attempts to ruffle your hair over the years. The only person you’d let do it ended up being Robin, as she is the coolest person you’ve ever met.

“Why would it be awkward?” The question has a sarcastic bite to it, garbled by the cereal in your mouth.

He sighs, placing a hand in his brown locks, ruffling them as he tucks his lips in. “Well, because it’s one of the friends you’ve never met.”

There’s a few of them, having never made their return to Hawkins, you never had a chance to meet them. A few names from the stories your dad has told you over the years flicker through your mind, one name in particular standing out from the rest.

Well, it's the only name that pops through your head.

His likeness on Late Nite TV interviews charming the audience, his solid tenor voice playing on the speakers during family barbecues, his band’s name plastered on some of the albums in your dad’s collection.

You’ve heard stories, seen the photos of him and your dad together, but he’s never come around before.

“Who?” You ask, your heart palpitating at the very thought of the long haired angel who haunted your dreams making his first in-person appearance.

“It’s Eddie,” he answers, crossing his arms as his eyes switch back to the tv. “Eddie Munson, that guy in Corroded Coffin I’ve told you stories about?”

You roll your eyes, fighting the smile that threatens to take over your face. “I know who Eddie is, dad. His name comes up every time his songs are on the family speakers. Given how many stories I know about him, is a lot!” You tease him, satisfied by the quick twist of annoyance across his face.

“Not like I heard you complaining about those stories,” he chuckles, playfully feigning a throw of his T-towel at you. “He needs to come into town to help his uncle move into a retirement home. Wayne has finally given in, despite needing to be in one for at least a decade,” you blink at him, giving him that same deadpan stare he has given time and time again. He’s taught you well. “Right, so. He will be staying for the weekend.”

You nod, putting down the bowl on the coffee table as the remaining contents are only the milk and soggy cereal. What a nightmare of textures.

As you lift your phone to unlock it again the day of the week flashes as a reminder. “So, he‘ll be here tomorrow?”

He hisses, reaching out his hand for said bowl. You pass it to him, the silence would be awkward if it weren’t for how easily it rolls off his shoulders.

Steve Harrington makes his living off of awkward moments.

“Short notice I know,” he apologizes, in so many words, “I offered to him a few months ago when he brought it up, and he called the other day looking to cash in on the favor.”

“And you said I’d be yours for the weekend. You liar!” You accuse, playfully crossing your arms at him.

Your dad shrugs, walking back into the kitchen. “It seems I have double booked Chez Harrington for the weekend, but it won’t be so bad.” You hear the sound of the bowl being put in the water in the sink.

You pretend to be annoyed, because it’s what he expects of you. The truth is since you were old enough to find someone hot Eddie Munson has intrigued you. On the occasion you have found yourself staring too long at magazine spreads he has been featured in, letting his sweet tenor voice enwrap you whole as you turn on his music. Sometimes he bares a love bite or two on stage, smacking you in the face with envy.

This weekend is bound to be torture for you, a vision of a rock god whose body and chisled arms you’ve practically memorized by now up close in person with all those sick and twisted thoughts bouncing around in your head. To him, you will be nothing but a school girl with a crush.

You’re surprisingly okay with that.

“Ah, yes, an unruly rockstar coming over for a weekend. I think I’ve seen this film before, and I didn’t like the ending,” you sing the last part, smiling cheekily as he scoffs.

“Taylor Swift references aside, he’s really gotten over his party hard rockstar days,” he insists, “or at least, that’s what he tells me.”

You nod cynically, narrowing your eyes. “Fine. Not like I can tell you to refuse your friend a place to stay,” you shrug, acting a little too much. Relax, take it easy. You don’t need to overact out an emotion. “We have more than enough rooms.”

“Well, your sisters don’t like to come home for whatever reason and your brother is gone away at camp for the summer, so, yeah, I guess you can say that,” Steve huffs, crossing his arms back at you.

“Oh, I thought he’d just stay in the spare bedroom,” you tease, your arms flailing as he pushes you over on the couch in one last retaliation.

The following afternoon there’s three knocks on the door, announcing the arrival of the person you’ve been waiting for all morning. You might have dressed for the occasion, a flowy summer dress that shows off your tits and just enough of your bikini top to keep him wanting more.

You’d hoped the shine of your sunscreen on your skin will work in your favor, purposely messy hair and pretty lip gloss will do just the trick.

You open the door, despite waiting a few seconds for your dad to come down so you didn’t have to, but the guest was impatient, knocking another three times and calling your dad’s name.

“Alright, alright, coming!” You call out, swinging the door open to a real life legend.

“Ah! Little Harrington!” He startles, his brown eyes wide, only adding to how comically yet gorgeously frazzled he is.

But it’s not entirely comforting that the first thing he does when he sees you is jump.

“Sorry, just thought you lot were gone for the summer,” he chuckles, fidgeting with his rings. Two seconds in and you’re already leering.

“Decided to crash,” you shrug, stepping back so he might enter. “Not many places I can stay at for free that also have a pool.”

He barks out a laugh at your attempt at humor, looking around your father’s admittedly sweet diggs. “Jesus,” he swears under his breath, dropping his gym bag on the floor. ”Forgot how big the Harrington house is.”

You laugh under your breath, keeping a comment to yourself.

A V forms between his brows, having seen the thought cross your mind. “What?”

“Nothing,” you dismiss, a tight lipped smile slowly spreading across your face.

“I know a classic Harrington comment when I see one, spit it out,” he smirks, crossing his arms and raising his brows expectantly.

The comment spit it out raises a few images, but bite your tongue and ignore them.

You raise your brows back, challenging his demand. You almost win, but the need to make a sarcastic remark, the one you inherited from a long line of sarcastic Harringtons, wins. “You’re a rockstar, aren’t you? Don’t you have a big mansion of your own?”

He scrunches his nose, as if turned off by the idea. “A house, maybe. But a mansion? For one person? That’s excessive.” He moseys back over to the door, bending over the threshold to grab something from out of sight. His guitar. The prized one he wrote the song chopped full of innuendos Tasty Lick about. He carries it by the neck, the red and black pattern even more vibrant and captivating in person.

You could say the same about him, especially how no photo seems to do him justice. The stubble on his chin is faint, but it’s there, looking ever so scratchable. His hands are rough, calloused from the hours of guitar playing. His forearms reveal a patchwork of black and white tattoos, all wrapped in a gothic theme or horror of some kind.

You’re still leering at him. You should’ve known this would be a dangerous game.

“Well what did you do with your riches, then?” You rebuttal as you peer up from under your lashes at a set of chocolate eyes that has your breath catching.

“A really nice tour bus, good security,” he starts walking towards the kitchen, hands in his jeans pockets as he continues his observation of the surroundings. “As of recently, a damn good retirement home.”

You smile at that, how charming it is that he’d rather spend his well earned dough on comfort for himself and others. It only adds to the boyish charm that overflows from him.

“Oh, and a nice little red sports’ car,” he adds, completely nixing your previous thought about him.

“I can make you something to eat if you want, you probably had a long road trip,” you offer him, leaning forward against the island counter.

Eddie’s eyes study you for a moment, his eyes flickering around your face. As they trail across your eyes, lips, studying your scattered moles you’ve inherited from your father, you nearly retract from his intense gaze.

The moment ends, Eddie leaning back in the barstool as he licks his lips in a quick movement. “No thanks,” his head shakes rapidly, sending a ripple down his wavy locks, “I’m good.”

You hum, cheekily raising your brow. “Dad’s probably in the shower, which means you might be waiting a while for him to blow dry his hair.”

Eddie laughs, broad smile wide enough to show those dangerous dimples. “Guess nothing really has changed.”

You push yourself off the barstool, barking out one short laugh as you walk out the wide double doors to where your setup is.

It’s best not to hover.

There are a few lounge chairs by the pool, each with its own glass table right next to it. Your phone is waiting for you, a singular AirPod right next to it, the music that was playing through the speaker earlier on pause and waiting for you to return. The hot sun blares on the 4th of July weekend, a chlorine blue water stagnant in the pool, just inviting someone to enjoy its icy depth, a shelter from the blaze.

Your sandals protect your bare feet from the scorching concrete, the sunglasses that rested on your head are no longer forgotten as the sun sends daggers through your skull.

You lose yourself in your Hot Girl Summer playlist, humming to an indie pop artist’s upbeat track that sounds like summer while mindlessly reading a magazine. Your dad blocks the sun, effectively announcing his presence after you couldn’t hear him over the music blasting in your ear.

After you wave up at him with a smile on your face, taking the earbud out when he gestures for you to do so. “What’s up?”

He tilts his head in a jerk move, his face shifting into a bewildered expression in a blink. “A-when did Eddie get here?”

“Dunno,” you shrug, looking around him towards the double doors. “Maybe ten, fifteen minutes ago?”

His eyes widen, adding to the expression he’s given to you many many times in your adolescence. “And you didn’t think to tell me?”

You lean back, switching your glance back down to your magazine, oh so coyly. “I figured you were in the shower.” You flip the page to a spread of heartthrobs. Somehow the rockstar has made his way into the mix. “Eddie can wait for fifteen minutes. He’s a big boy.”

Steve blinks at you, considering this statement with a sour look on his face. “Did you at least offer a drink, something to eat while he was waiting?”

“Of course I did! He said no. Now go say hi to your buddy,” you gesture back towards the house vaguely, playing closer attention to the glossy pages in your lap. “I’m not the one being rude, anymore.”

He sighs, turning back around toward the house. The earbud is barely pressed into your ear when he turns back around, his long legs taking him back in quick steps. “This whole display doesn't have anything to do with Eddie visiting, would it?”

“Display?” You parrot back to him, pushing your sunglasses onto your head. You gesture towards the pool, mirroring that same exasperated look he gave you. “Display? I’m sitting by the pool, like I told you I would. If I wanted a display, I would’ve worn a lot less than the dress I wore when I answered the door.” You pause, indicating to your pink bikini with a flourish. “I would’ve worn a lot less now.”

Steve falls out of his stern father pose, eyes closed as he throws his hands up in surrender. “Aah, okay I get your point.”

“It’s hot, it’s summer.” You put your sunglasses back on over your eyes, shaking the product soaked hair you worked so hard to make look effortlessly messy. “I’m your daughter, I’m not a display.”

“Right, yeah. Just making sure, sunshine.” He leans in, lowering his voice as if so Eddie can’t hear through the open doors. “I just know you had a crush on him when you were younger. It ain’t happenin’, sweet girl.”

You pull your head back, your jaw dropping as your dad does what he does best, come up with one more rebuttal just when you thought you’d won the battle.

He always wins the war.

It takes a minute for your mind to catch back up to yourself, blinking yourself out of it. “I-what!”

”You weren’t as subtle about it as you thought you were, sunshine!” He calls back, striding back into the house.

You huff, watching your crystal blue painted toenails twitch as you mull the conversation over in your head. If nothing came of it, then at least Eddie would get to enjoy his view, and you’d enjoy yours. For a moment you wonder if you’re acting pathetic, but you toss your sunglasses and earphone aside, ignoring the glitch in self confidence as you approach the suddenly inviting pool.

Were the set of eyes you felt on you as you made laps in the pool just wishful thinking?

The scraping of the knife against toast fills the kitchen as you slowly spread the strawberry jam, careful not to make more of a mess than you already have.

“Mornin’’’ you hear behind you, your dad’s shampoo filing your nose as he leans in to plant a kiss on your cheek.

“Hi,” you greet him, pausing to ‘clean’ the jam off your thumb. You’re about to ask if he would like some toast when you see his suit on, perfectly tailored with his long hair groomed so specifically you clock it right away. “You’re all dressed up.”

He grins, walking around you to where you had a pot of coffee started. “About that.”

That’s exactly what you figured. “What?”

”Put some toast in for Ed, I’ll tell you both when he comes down,” he instructed, narrowly avoiding your pointedly annoyed stare.

Your eyes remain on his to make your point, huffing as you place two pieces of bread in, adding more attitude in the action than was probably necessary. Your jaw locks, staring him down as he pours his cup of coffee, chewing on the toast with your arms crossed.

Although Steve is apologetic, he eventually ignores your glare, wondering how all four of his kids managed to get his same attitude.

Eventually you grow tired of glaring at someone who’s ignoring you so you sit down, waiting for Eddie to make his appearance as you pout at the kitchen island.

The smell of his Irish Spring soap hits the kitchen before he does, walking into the kitchen mid yawn and fresh from his shower. Eddie’s shirt clings to his lithe torso like a second skin, showing off just the hint of a tummy with his sweatpants sitting low on his hips. You allow yourself one second to gawk at him and the hairs that peek out of his shirt until you reshift your focus back to your toast, panicking when you notice the jam that has dripped on your hand. Oh, shit again?

“What’s with the fancy get up, dude?” Eddie asks, pouring himself a cup as well.

“Before we get to that, Sunshine has put some toast in for you.” Steve gestures with his coffee cup.

Eddie’s brows lift, looking just the littlest bit delighted as he turns toward the toaster. “Oh, thanks!” He snaps his fingers into a gun with his thumb and pointer finger, sending a wink your way. You’re mid-‘clean-up’ on your hand, rushing to finish before you nod to acknowledge his thanks.

“Alright. My partner called,” he means work partner, “he needs help to close this deal. He’s having a really hard time doing it himself.”

”Who did you send?” You ask, knowing a little bit of his work drama.

Steve hisses, wincing as he says, “Warner.”

You roll your eyes, shaking your head as the toast pops out of the toaster. “Well no wonder!”

Eddie has been watching this like a tennis match, completely out of the loop but entertained nonetheless. “What, what’s wrong with…Warren?”

“Warner,” you correct him, cleaning up yet another spill of jam off your thumb. “The guy sucks. Why Warner, why not Tommy?”

“Wait, why does he suck?” Eddie asks as he spreads butter on his toast, looking way too entertained about this.

“Because he’s a 22-year-old fuckwit that doesn’t know how to close and only got this job because his dad gave it to him when he retired,” you huff, not at all distracted by how Eddie is eating his toast; like it’s the best thing he’s ever tasted, savoring every bite. His tongue occasionally pokes out to lap at the butter on his lips, his eyes closed as he muffles sounds at the back of his throat.

He makes eating toast look depraved.

“Sunshine, you’re 22,” Steve squints, lifting his cup towards you accusingly.

You scoff. “Yeah but I’m not an entitled dickwad who thinks just because his daddy had a job ‘oh, that’s my job one day!’. He has no experience versus his father who was in the game for 25 years.” You’re very passionate about this, more so than you had even anticipated. “Seriously, why him?”

“He’s the only one who didn’t take the Fourth of July weekend off because he’s a 22 year old fuckwit with no family.” He takes a large sip of his coffee before setting it on the counter. “Well in any case, you are right. He has no experience and we need this account, so I gotta help him out.”

“When do you think you’ll be back?” Eddie asks, giving you a fresh whiff of his soap when he walks behind you to sit on the other side of the island.

Steve crosses his arms and leans against the table, mentally preparing himself before he disappoints the two of you, “Not til Sunday.”

“Shitty,” Eddie sighs sympathetically.

“Dad I can only take one week off,” you sigh, having only gotten two days with him. “When you get back I’ll only have one more day.”

“I know, I’m sorry.” He does genuinely sound remorseful. You know he’d stay if he had any other choice, but he doesn’t.

“You know anyone else in town who could…” Eddie starts, obviously reminding your dad of something he forgot about.

“Shit. Hmmm.” Steve’s eyes flicker to you, “Sunshine can do it.”

You pause mid-bite in hearing your nickname. “Sunshine can do what?”

“I don’t wanna bother her on her vacation.” Eddie states, dismissing Steve’s offer.

Your dad saved him off, “I’m sure she’d be happy to help.”

“What am I doing?” You ask more assertively, finally grabbing their attention.

Eddie finally speaks first, “Oh, I asked your dad to help me pack up my uncles things. It’s a tedious process, I can get—“

“No, she’d be happy to help,” Steve offers again, looking at you and jerkily nodding his head towards Eddie.

You’d be happy to help, you’re just thinking about the amount of time you’ll be alone with Eddie. Your plan was to keep a safe distance from him, allowing a free show in your best summer clothing while enjoying the hot weather. The close quarters your dad is sending you into sounds dangerous, butterflies erupting into your ribcage as you picture the deafening silence surrounding the two of you knee deep in his uncle’s things.

“I’m happy to help,” you tell him, getting up to put your plate away.

“I don’t want to force her into—“

“My dad can’t force me into doing shit,” you scoff, ignoring your dads own scoff. Now Eddie on the other hand could demand you to bark and you would. Down on the ground, on all fours. “Besides. You two wouldn’t have gotten any actual organization done.”

“Thanks,” Eddie lifts his mug, giving you a wink. Your neck hair rises, scanning his arched nose and the rebelling stubble already growing in despite having freshly shaved. His aftershave is intoxicating, the sound of a glass mug clinking as it lands on the counter snapping you out of your daze.

“When are you leaving?” You suddenly remembered your dad’s presence in the kitchen, funny how fast you forgot about him.

“I should get going within the hour,” he states thoughtfully, grimacing apologetically when you give him sad eyes. You know it's not his fault, but you’re not the adult here, and the disappointment you feel can’t help but twist your features.

He puts his hands on your shoulders, petting them with his thumbs. “I do feel better knowing I’m not leaving you all alone in this big empty house.”

You tense up, avoiding his gaze as you attempt to smile. Being left all alone with Eddie in the big empty house is precisely what is worrying you. Your dad’s constant presence alone is the thing that has prevented you from even being tempted into going any further than elongated stares and late night fantasies.

“I’ve been alone in the house before,” you say, tilting your head. “You’re about to be alone for the rest of the month.” That sentence just makes you feel sad.

He smirks, shaking his head playfully. “I meant at least if I’m ditching you for work, then at least I’m not leaving you all alone. I was trying to alleviate my own guilt.”

“I’ve already forgiven you, old man,” you tell him. “Go, rescue those poor investors from Warner’s slippery hands.”

He pulls you in for a hug, his heartbeat familiar as he leans down to place a kiss on your forehead. Your head is swung back abruptly as he pushes on your shoulders, leaning in conspiratorially. “Hey, there are worse people to leave you alone than the man that was once on a poster on your wall, hey?”

That poster was stared down many times, finally taken down when you were about to move away, kept only because of the autograph in the bottom corner.

Regardless, your dad is having too much fun with this. You wonder who would have more fun if Eddie ends up bending you over the couch like you kept envisioning. Said rockstar currently bending over the couch to grab something jolted you back to the present.

“And who gave me that as a gift after introducing me to his music?” You shoot back, meeting those chocolate brown eyes across the living room.

“My ears are burning,” Eddie grins, walking around the couch to plug in the amp.

“Are your keys burning, because I need a ride to the airport.” Steve interjects, smirking at your widened eyes.

Eddie sits on the couch, one foot resting on the coffee table as he starts playing his guitar absentmindedly. “I am your noble steed at your service, Harrington. Just tell me when.”

Steve answers with something, probably somewhat sarcastic before climbing the stairs to finish packing. You probably would’ve heard it if it weren’t for how absentmindedly his fingers were moving, individually plucking the strings as his other hand shifts easily to each corresponding chord.

He is delicate with the instrument, expertly working her and zoned out as the guitar’s gentle tune fills the house. His many years spent playing is evident through how easy he plays the melody, getting lost in the song with his hands working idly. If it weren’t for his eyes being shut for the whole time, you would’ve probably pretended to go on your phone.

His effortlessness of plucking the strings sends a thrill down your spine, has your thighs squeezing tightly together as your mind starts to picture his fingers expertly working you apart.

“Ow!”

Eddie’s yelp snaps you out of it, making you jump as you hurriedly switch your glance back to your phone. He chuckles as he sucks his sore thumb, the very same one the guitar string snapped on. “Sorry, did I scare ya?”

“No,” you answer, sounding not at all convincing to yourself. Eddie lifts his brow to you, his face comically twisted as he continues to tend to his wound. “Okay, maybe a little.”

He chuckles, smirking as he adjusts the guitar on his lap again. “Poster in your room?”

Fuck, you were hoping he didn’t hear that, despite him being in earshot.

“Well it was signed and it just so happened to be one of my favorite albums.” Despite your nerves tickling the surface right under your skin, you do your best to seem unfazed by his magic fingers.

His brows furrow, delicately playing a soft rock melody. At least, you think it's soft rock. “Which one?”

”Hell’s Angels,” you answer candidly. You do like the songs of Freak! More, but you specifically requested a poster of Hell’s Angels because of the dark look in Eddie’s eye while he’s looking directly in the listener.

There may have been a night where you placed it perfectly on the wall so it appears he’s between your open legs to make it easier to picture him glancing up at you while he—

He tilts his head dismissively lifting one side of his upper lift in a sneer. “Not my best. If I had to pick a favorite, and don’t tell anyone I said this, it’d be Freak!”

You blink in surprise, grinning to yourself as you listen to the gentle strum of his guitar.

“I do remember sending that poster off though, Steve never mentioned who it was for, I just figured It would earn him some serious brownie points for a girl he was chasing.” It feels so weird to hear about your dad dating, even after all these years.

“Nope,” you shrug. “Just his favorite daughter.”

“Shit,” he laughs, a hiccup in his guitar play, “if you wanted an autograph you should’ve just asked. Only takes me two seconds.”

Your mind buzzes with the offer, probably a throwaway comment of his, but just the offer alone is enough to send you almost on a mental spiral.

“Alright!” Steve saves you in the nick of time, running downstairs with a gray suitcase occasionally colliding every few steps or so. “Let’s go, Munson!”

“Ok,” Eddie sets the guitar aside and turns his amp off, a stripe of skin nearly irresistible as he stretches. Aware of the company in the living room, who actually paid no mind, you memorize the pattern of his delicious looking treasure trail. God what would it feel like to nuzzle into those pretty little hairs.

You’re still gawking.

“Dude, leather jacket with sweatpants?” Steve reprimands, one eyebrow tilted as he looks at Eddie perplexed.

You hate to say it but he really makes it work.

“What? Not like I’m really going anywhere,” Eddie shrugs, patting his pockets for a double check he has everything.

The former glances at you, pointing at his friend. “Look at this get-up.”

You pretend as if you hadn’t already, giving Eddie a one over. You take advantage of it, really taking your time. “I’ll give him a break, he wears leather pants on stage in 100 degree heat,” you answer, crossing your arms. “Just this once though. Don’t let us see you slacking again.” You were going to add a Munson at the end of it, but you figured it’d go too far.

A chorus of soft laughter from both of them fills the room. “Yes ma'am,” he salutes, sending a jolt down your spine. Oh, that’s something you’ll need to dissect…eventually.

Two steps away from the door, your dad turns back towards you to initiate one last hug. You let out a hum of contentment, giggling as he tells you to take it easy on Eddie.

“Safe flight,” you wish him, one last squeeze until he reluctantly lets you go. ”Text me when you land.”

Eddie appears with his hair in a low and loose bun, some curly strands framing his face. “Alright, Harrington. Get ready for your mid-life crisis.”

The slick, low car that takes up one half of the driveway right next to your father’s Mercedes SUV stands out, probably one of the only flashy things he owns. (However, he also paid someone to drive up his van when he realized he still needed to move an old man’s house worth of clutter and valuables.)

As you watch the car drive to the end of the ridiculously long driveway, you can’t help but feel like a decision has been made for you.

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood turn to one. There is no more coke or pepsi. The radio will only air one station.

Being alone with Eddie Munson suddenly feels like a temptation.

You just hope he has the good sense not to feel the same way.

Thank you so much for reading, remember replies and reblogs are the best way to support fic writers on tumblr

I'm so sorry how much of this was in the preview, I tried to give what was in the fic but I have most of the whole thing done and I can't wait to see some reactions to the later bits. Particularly the filthy smut

main taglist: @alastorssimp @mmunson86 @pinkcowracing @yourthebrokengirl @skrzydlak @thirddeadlysin @sammararaven @bebe07011 @prettylovley @josephquinnschesthair @forget-you-morelike-fuck-you @names-were-taken @oddussy420

taglist for Ice Cream, Bikinis, and Other Ways To Torture Him: @emxxblog @transparentenemypenguin @stylesxmunson @ali-r3n @mediocredreams @miaajaade @dreamerjj @prestinalove @pretty-pink-princess

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x reader smut #rockstar!eddie munson #rockstar!eddie smut #rockstar! eddie munson #rockstar!eddie x reader #older eddie munson x reader #older!eddie munson #older!eddie x reader #harrington reader x eddie munson

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ncis-nerd · 7 months ago

Text

Don't you worry darling

theatre actor r! x stage manager!natasha romanov

warnings: hurt/comfort, angst, sensory issues, panic attacks, crying.

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a/n: not based off true events .. juliet if you see this... no u don't 😭

"Dude!! You're clothes are getting wet!!" Your castmate, Kate exclaimed. "Huh?" You looked at her confused. Your clothes were sitting perfectly on top of your bag, on the chair..Were they not?

Your eyes glanced towards the chair where your stuff resided at, and there were gone. SHIT- You rushed to pick it up from the tray of water but it was too late, the damage was done.

You were in an off Broadway play, sharing a dressing room with 13 of your cast mates, plus the guys from the other play. They kept the room so disgusting and you got the smaller room out of the two. But at least yours had a window and now had air conditioning. A downside to the air conditioning is that it would leak, so they had to get a tray to let the water fall into.

You knew it was risky putting your stuff so close to it but you just wanted to stay out of people's way. It was hard being squeezed into a tight, sweaty dressing room with 13 other people.

So of course, you didn't know how to react when you picked up your shirt, hoodie and pants, all drenched in the freezing water bin. Stupidly, you left it on top of your bag and rushed out. Keep it together, keep it together. Don't cry. You locked yourself in the bathroom, tossing cold water onto your very red face. Tears streamed down your face.

What were you suppose to do? Your clothes to change back into were wet, you can't wear your costume home and you'll get sick wearing wet clothes on a 2 hour train ride back home. Not to mention uncomfortable, due to the texture.

After a minute of attempting to calm yourself down, you exit the bathroom. As you open the door to the dressing room, you noticed members form the other cast have migrated in there as well, like Tony, Steve, Bucky, etc. "Y/N! Come join us in cards!!" Maria exclaimed. "No.. it's okay" you mumbled, as they shut the door.

It was way too crowded in there and you did not want to go in there. Instead, you looked for your director Natasha or the stage member Wanda or literally anyone that could help. But no one was there, so you stood there pacing. Don't start crying again, don't start crying. Your hand rose, taking its place on your scalp. Your fingers ran down your hair, a nervous tick of yours.

Finally, after fighting back years, you start to feel drops run down your face. "Yeah and she said- hold on I'll be right back!" You heard 2 of your cast mates, Kate and Yelena speak. You saw them when you came out of the bathroom but they went down the hall to gossip. Kate went into the bathroom and Yelena made her way back down the hall, towards you.

Dammit- she's gonna see me crying.. As Yelena starts to walk down the hall, she finds you crying in the corner. "Y/n- are you okay??" She spoke, her expressed worried. "I-i" You saw your assistant manager enter backstage.

Her eyes trailed onto yours, the brunette obviously concerned about you. "Someone knocked my clothes into the water and now it's all wet" you sniffles, fidgeting with your fingers nervously. A hitch in your breath and you could feel snot running down your face.

"Hey. Hey. It's gonna be all right, okay? We've got extra clothes, okay? Are wet clothes a texture thing for you?" Wanda, your assistant manager asked.

"No but it's gonna be uncomfortable wearing wet clothes for a 2 hour commute home" you said, wiping the tears from your face.

"I see you're an overthinker but try not to worry. We have dryers. I could put your clothes to dry?" The brunette asked.

"It's on the blue bag, close to the water tray. It's a hoodie, shirt and pants." You stuttered, trying to get your words out. "Okay, thank you, Y/n, I'll go grab it right now. Don't worry" she spoke softly.

You nodded as she entered the room, you saw her come back out with your clothes in her hand. "Luckily it's not too wet but I'll still go ahead and dry that for you." She smiled.

As the brunette left, you sat by the door. Not wanting to go back in the crowded room. You heard a loud "YEAH!!" or stomp or overall odd sound, come from the room. "That can't be good.." Wanda sighed, not bothering to go check it out.

Yelena and Kate, and a few other people from the other play whom you didn't know were chilling outside the room, so you just sat there with them. Not paying much attention to their conversations, just on your phone.

"I WIN!!" A voice screams from the room. "That sounds..." Kate trailed off. "Welcome to my world!" Wanda hummed, making her way back on stage.

FUCK, how could you be so stupid! You finally mastered your cues but managed to fuck up the one line you had. Everyone else did so good! "And I don't!" Mj exclaimed. Shocking everyone with how much she had improved in practing her monolouge. Your castmates went over to praise her. "You did so good!" "MJ THAT WAS AMAZING!!" you join them for a moment but then you dig your fingers into your palm. Don't you start crying. Not here, in front of them.

You made your way back to the dressing room, with the other girls. Yesterday you saw Maria sit under the dresser counter, it looked comfortable and most of all- isolated. You sat down, bumping your head in the procress. "Ouchh" you groan softly.

Your head took it place on your knees, you covered your face and began to sob quietly, you literally have the easiest job. Only 2 lines, and a few cues. It's not that hard. How could you screw that up?

"Time for notes!" Your stage manager Natasha exclaimed, entering the room. You didn't budge but no one seemed to notice you and you were greatful for that.

"Maria you really surprised us all back there, that was incredible!" Natasha smiled, praising the girl. "Yeah that was epic!" Another voice said. You recognized it, it was May, another one of the managers. You thought it was only Natasha there, is Wanda also there?

"And y/n?" Natasha paused. "Y/N? Are they asleep? Are they okay?" You heard her speak. A bunch of mumbles filled your ears, they were overly sensitive like that. Natasha took the hint to move on after no movement or words from you.

After the managers had left, they said you and your cast could change out of costumes and were dismissed. You rushed out, making a run for the bathroom before it got crowded. You had snot dripping down your shirt and needed to wash your face.

When you were done, you looked around. For someone, Natasha or Wanda. To explain what had happened and that you weren't just slacking off. But you saw no one. Kate left the dressing room, "Hey have you seen Wanda?" You mumbled, trying not to cry. You felt a big gulp in your throat. "Yeah I think she might be on stage." Kate smiled softly. "Could you get her for me, please?" You mumbled, once again fidgeting with your fingers. Kate nodded and you stood backstage, waiting. As she left, Natasha entered. "Hey! Y/N? What happened?" Natasha spoke softly, with an ounce of concern in her voice. Her face filled with sympathy. "Do you want to talk?" You nodded and thats when Wanda entered the room. They led you out of the theater and somewhere more private to speak.

You were nervous about being in there because the company that owns the theater had told you guys that you weren't allowed to hang out or be in there. But you ignored it, as they were trying to be accommodating to the best they could.

You took a seat next to Natasha, Wanda standing. "I forgot my lines, I froze and I forgot my lines but everyone else did so good." You sniffled. "Hey, it's okay. You messed up but you know that you did, you know you made a mistake so that's progress! Is there anything you need?" Natasha spoke softly, her eyes focused on your teary ones. "...Water" you mumbled, Natasha and Wanda left the room. Natasha was the first to return with a cup of water. "Wanda went to check on your clothes." Natasha said, when you noticed that Wanda was gone.

You nodded and tried to break the silence. "Do you have any notes for me?" You asked. "Are you sure you want to hear that right now?" Natasha shot you a hesitant look. You nodded, "Yeah, please?" "Alright, if that's what you want. Could you be louder in the songs? We couldn't quite hear you from the back. And then there's the note about how you froze but you know so that's pretty much it." Natasha spoke softly.

Wanda entered the room, with your clothes and a shirt. "So your clothes are mostly dried, your shirts still a little wet. We can leave that here to dry, I gave you my shirt." Wanda smiled, putting a hand on your shoulder for support, before she left. "I-im gonna go change, if that's okay?" You spoke. Natasha nodded.

this baby has been sitting in my drafts for months bruh. pls don't flop i know there's barely any intimacy but i wanted to try to keep it as real as possible

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