#hes a rockstar with groupies of course he fucks

[babblingeccentric]

How Much Each Of the Strawhats Fuck

Luffy: 0/10 does not fuck he has no holes. This man is aroace and we love him for it (twinsies!) A wise man said it's a good thing he doesn't have sex cause he would be sticking it in anything and he was right

Zoro: either asexual who is completely uninterested in sex or a gay man who fucks mad. He is sucking and fucking his way down the grand line with any guy who looks like he could offer a good fight.

Nami: A lesbian who cons men into giving her money. She has a new girl crush every island and she's nice to every girl she meets who isn't trying to kill her. Fucks often and well.

Ussop: Fucks but not as much as Zoro or Nami. Middle of the road normal average amount of experience. Had his bisexual realization during the training gap and spent months meditating on it before living his truth. Good for you Ussop you've examined all of you internalized homophobia and become a happier person

Sanji: Perpetual virgin. Has never seen a pussy in real life. I could fix him (show him my tits) Constantly in a cycle of bisexual realization-panic-repression that renders him incapable of being normal about sex. RIP loser

Chopper: too baby to fuck. Come back and ask me in 3-5 years.

Robin: canonically had a situationship with Crocodile, she is now happily living her robofucker dreams with Franky. They have freaky weird nasty sex that blows Franky's back out on the regular and we love them for it. You go Robin

Franky: Fucking like a frat boy during his early Franky gang days before he settled down to a situationship with the twins as he got older. Now in a committed relationship with Robin where they try out every weird thing the come across on each other. He's living the dream (getting pegged by a hot goth chick on the regular)

Brook: Fucked like a mad Dionysian during his flesh days this man was going all night and some of the day. He left a trail of broken hearts and encounters Prince would be proud of. The world lost one of its most skilled lovers the day he got skeletonized. Pass around the hat to buy him a strap.

Jimbe: Fucks like your dad (motherfucker)

HONORARY MENTION Vivi: young bisexual women cautiously exploring her sexuality cause she's too damn busy trying to save and govern a whole ass country

[elliewithcellie]

Girl, Interrupted

summary: Eddie crashes by your home when you least expected, but everything happens for a reason, right?

wc: 1.8k

cw: PURE SMUT (MDNI 18+), basically no plot, friends to fwb?, oral (f receiving), Eddie is a tease, fairly bold reader lol, fingering, talk of p in v sex, hair pulling, orgasms idk let me know what else

a/n: my bestie bought me slutty pajamas for my birthday, and since I'm a hypothetical whore, this has been on my mind nonstop. Finally took a break from my spn series to write this down. This is the filthiest thing I've written to date but definitely short and sweet

Eddie’s jaw fell slack as the door opened before him. He knew he shouldn’t have shown up to your place uninvited. Sure, you were his best friend, and of course, you had said he could come over whenever, but that never truly meant unannounced. He was already kicking himself for showing up as late as he did when you opened the door.

Your oh so short pajama shorts were the first thing that caught his eye, how your thighs spilled out beneath them, the cotton begging for relief. His eyes trailed higher to your tank top one size too small. The hem rested just above your midriff, the outline of your hips more prominent than he had ever seen. Your face was flush, pinks and reds lining your cheeks. He fought the urge to pinch himself, scared that he was dreaming, scared that he’d wake up to the absence of you and very real feelings emerging.

“Eddie? What are you doing here?” you asked, your arms crossing over your chest. “I thought you had a date.”

Date, what date? Eddie’s mind was going numb. His brain was flatlining at the mere sight of you, more exposed to him than he’d ever seen you. Fight or flight kicked in, debating on whether to say something or just turn around and leave. He was almost sure he was not supposed to see you in this state.

“I—uhh—it didn’t go well, so I cut it short. But I know you love the place, so I figured I’d bring over the leftovers.”

“Oh, sweet. Thank you.”

Eddie hesitated, scared to ask, but his interest piqued. “Is someone—you’re alone right now, right?”

Your eyebrows pinched together. You exhaled a dry laugh. “Please, I’m always alone. Come in. Tell me about your date.”

You ushered Eddie inside and settled into your couch. You pulled a blanket over you, and Eddie released a sigh. He couldn’t believe the hold you suddenly had on him. It was like he was in high school again, ready to combust at the sight of a shoulder. At least with your legs covered, he was less inclined to think about spreading them.

“Was it really that bad?” you asked, drawing Eddie from his thoughts.

“She was just so boring,” Eddie complained. “Like, there’s nothing wrong with her, but it was like we were from different planets! She didn’t know Metallica! How am I supposed to bond with someone when there’s nothing to relate to?”

“Did you think of showing her?”

“Showing her what?”

“Metallica!” you laughed. “Wouldn’t that be kind of romantic, you know, to introduce that to her? Maybe tell her you’re in a band? It’d be like showing her a whole new world. And maybe you’d get a groupie out of it.”

Eddie swatted at the air. “It’s not worth it. We were both bored. And it was clear she wasn’t looking to rock with a guitarist.”

“Oh, I highly doubt that.”

“You didn’t meet her. She’s pristine, a Chrissy Cunningham type. Meant to be with a lawyer or some shit.”

You leaned in closer to Eddie, your blanket sliding down your thighs. “Those are the girls who fantasize about guys like you the most. Those girls on the straight and narrow, the ones who seemed destined to be sweet stay-at-home moms or perfect career women, those are the ones who dream of just one night doing something they never thought they could. Something so wild that when they’re taking their kids to soccer practice, or their ‘perfect husband’ is asleep on the recliner while they're doing the dishes, they can think back to that wild night when they fucked a rockstar.”

Eddie’s lip trembled as chills coursed through his body. You leaned back against the couch and shrugged like what you said was nothing. You had to be on something, he decided. Never had you been so frank when the topic of sex came up. Your face was still flushed with color, and you couldn’t seem to find a comfortable position on the couch, shifting yourself from one side to the other to no specific rhythm. Heat radiated off of you, though you weren’t known to be the furnace between the two of you. Something struck Eddie as so foreign but so familiar as he took you in.

“Would you fuck a rockstar?” Eddie found himself saying.

Heat rose to your cheeks. “Do I seem like one of those straight-and-narrow girls to you?”

“That’s not what I asked,” Eddie said, a newfound confidence overtaking him. “You came up with that way too fast to act like you don’t think of it, too. So, would you fuck a rockstar?”

You bit your lip and shifted in your seat. You huffed into the couch. “Wouldn’t anyone?”

“Why so shy all of a sudden?” Eddie asked, egging you on. “You’ve been squirming since I got here, sweetheart. Is something on your mind?”

Your eyes trailed from his eyes to his lips, then back to his eyes. “Tonight is not the night to ask me that.”

“Why is that?” Eddie chuckled. “Were you in the middle of something? Was something left unfinished when I so rudely interrupted? And now all you can think about is the ache between your legs?”

You shuddered at his words. “Eddie,” you said, your voice shaking.

“I could help you.” Eddie leaned closer, his words almost a whisper. “Because I may not be a rockstar, but I’m sure I could give you the night of your life.”

Your breath hitched in your throat. “Don’t tease me. It’s not funny.”

“No one’s laughing.” Eddie pulled the blanket back, his hands resting on your thighs. Your legs slightly opened on instinct. “What kind of friend would I be, huh? If I didn’t at least offer?”

Eddie didn’t know where this bravado came from, but he didn’t care. All he knew was the longer you looked at him like that, the harder he got.

You grabbed him by his shirt and forced his lips on yours. Nothing soft or sweet came from your lips. You were needy and desperate, clinging to him like he was the air in your lungs.

The urgency shocked Eddie, but he quickly found your rhythm. He smirked against your lips as he pulled his jacket off. His hands snaked from your thighs to your hips to your ass, lifting you onto his lap. You groaned into his mouth as he rolled you against him.

He was sure he was dreaming now. Only there did he ever picture you above him, grinding your hips into his. Only there did he imagine you moaning from his touch. But never were his dreams this vivid, this real, this fucking good.

He pulled you from him and pushed you back onto the couch. You whined at the loss of contact. He’d never seen your eyes so dark, so lustful, so hungry for him.

He slid down to the floor onto his knees and pulled you to the edge of the couch. “You still want my help, sweetheart?”

You nodded emphatically.

“I need to hear you, baby. Say it.”

“Please help me, Eddie. I need you. Please.”

“Atta girl.”

You lifted yourself up as Eddie pulled your shorts down your legs. Eddie’s cock jumped at the sight of you. He bit his lip to maintain what little composure he had left.

“Aww, your poor little pussy’s just as needy as you, isn’t she?” He spread your knees apart, the cold metal on his fingers sending chills up your spine. The throbbing between your legs only intensified, a small whimper escaping your lips.

Eddie couldn’t wait any longer. There was no time for teasing, no time to explore. You needed him, and he was going to deliver.

He dove into your aching pussy like a man starved. You jumped at the contact, your hands flying to his hair. His tongue worked overtime, kitten-licking your clit before diving in for more.

“You taste so good, sweetheart,” he said, smiling against you. You moaned in response, grabbing a fistful of his hair and pulling him closer.

Your sounds turned him on even more, searching for his own release as he rubbed himself against the couch. His mind was in a daze, in utter disbelief that anyone could look so perfect for him with your legs spread and your back arched. Your chest rose and fell to the rhythm of his tongue, and your lips formed a perfect ‘o’. Oh, how Eddie wanted to feel your lips around his cock. How you’d sink down on him, your perfect innocent mouth being completely sinful just for him.

He placed a finger at your entrance and pumped in and out, his thumb now circling your clit. Your head fell back. “God, yes, Eddie. Just like that.”

“I need you to do something for me, baby,” Eddie said as he added a second finger.

“Wha—what’s that?” you asked, breathless.

“I need you to tell me what you think of when you get off. Tell me what you were thinking of before I showed up at your door.”

“I—I oh god,” you shouted as Eddie’s lips found your clit. “I—I thought about you on your fucking date.”

“Oh fuck,” Eddie groaned into your pussy, the vibrations shooting up your spine.

“I pictured you fucking her from behind, her skirt hiked up to her hips, her panties to the side as you fucked her in front of the bathroom mirror.”

“Fucking C—Christ,” Eddie stuttered, his hips rutting into the couch faster. “Keep going.”

“Then it was me you were fucking. You grabbed me by the hair, so I could watch what you were doing to me,” you said, your voice shaking with every word. “Eddie, please. I’m close. Please.”

“Come on, baby. You can do it. Tell me what I was doing to you.” He was past dreaming at this point. He was sure this was heaven. Hearing your words had him reeling. He didn’t want to stop, didn't know how to stop. He just knew he needed to see you come.

Your lip trembled. “Your hands were all over me, playing with my tits, your lips on my neck, and—and your big cock pounding into me over and oh-ver and—and Fuck! Eddie, don’t stop! Please, please, please!”

Your orgasm crashed down on you, expletives and Eddie’s name on your lips. Eddie continued to pump his fingers in and out of you like a madman as he lapped up your cum.

“Oh god, oh fuck!” he moaned against you.

You pushed his head off of you and caught your breath. Eddie took a breath, too, leaning back against his heels. You pulled him back up to you and kissed him, tasting yourself on your lips.

“That… was so hot,” Eddie said, releasing a breath.

“Can it be my turn to help you?” you asked, looking up at him through your eyelashes.

Eddie’s cheeks rouged slightly, his eyes trailing to the growing wet spot on his jeans. “I had a turn already,” he said, guilt painting his words. He leaned in toward you, a devilish smirk joining his features. “But I’m not done with you. Not yet.”

[cursingtoji]

cw: band au, rockstar!geto x groupie!gf, slight manipulation?, car sex, oral. a/n: geto deserves a loser gf too. gojo version nanami version

geto who has a rock band and though they’re quite small they already have a #1 fan: you.

the band is all you talk about, going to the point of making your own shirts and posters, you doodle the bands logo everywhere and, most importantly you don't miss a single concert.

by the end of it you're waiting next to the back door of the pub when the band comes out, as soon as you see suguru you call his name extending your little gift bag.

"woah for me? thanks, doll." he takes your chin and gives your glossy lips a peck that makes your heartbeat spike up and your face warm up. geto fucking suguru just kissed you!

during all that week you were on cloud nine, so distracted and giggly.

of course geto notices you, always in the front row and ready to give the band some gifts, he sees how you try to dress up as one of them before they even realize they have a visual identity.

geto likes having fangirls, if anything that’s the best sign that the band is doing well. till that point he never considered engaging to one in a more intimate level. after all, women were never a problem for him, fans or not.

the problem is when they think more of the relationship than it really is. geto has always made sure they knew that sleeping together and treating them well was not synonymous to committed relationship.

because he already is committed. to his music. so after spending the whole day trying to come up with a new song so the band may finally have a complete album to present to a record, he takes a frustrated break picking up his phone and to his dismay only finding a long message about how he hurt someone’s feelings.

“oh for fucks sake” he lets his phone fall on the couch and take his keys, this is not a good week to quit smoking.

“geto?” he hears a small voice calling him after he leaves the convenience store with a very much needed cigarette on his lips and nicotine in his system.

“oh hey” he recognizes you by name and face.

“you’re using the lighter” you point out enthusiastically, that was a limited edition you bought and gifted him.

“that’s right, you bought me this, did i say thank you?” he’s genuinely wondering, your face heats remembering the kiss.

“i-its no big deal” you brush it off, since he doesn’t seem to be in a rush you start to babble about one specific song and everything you loved about it, knowing he was the composer.

“do wanna go to my place?” he says after quietly listening to your passionate thoughts. you think steam is about to come out of your ears at how hot your face got.

geto throws away what’s left of his cigarette and takes your hand, not really waiting for a response since the heart in your eyes is pretty obvious.

“you’re so cute” he says with his face mushed into your breasts as he guides your movements on his lap. you never guessed when you came out this morning you would be riding your favorite guitarist’s dick a few hours later, if you knew you probably would’ve put a sexier lingerie. not that he would care, by the way he pushed your bottoms down all at once he probably didn’t even know what color your underwear was.

geto pulled your hair tilting your head to meet his mouth, he devoured you so intensely, so overwhelming… you came not even needing your clit to be touched, just by having him inside you and breathing into your mouth like that was enough.

for suguru it was all a power trip, when he saw you after a concert he knew it wouldn’t take you much sweet talking to get you in his car.

he quickly mumbled an excuse to meet the band at the bar later and in just a few minutes he had you bobbing your head down his cock, “just like that, gorgeous, so good” his head is thrown back as he moans softly.

and as the band grew more popular and they had to travel to other cities to perform he would always count on you to meet him at his hotel room.

“geto~” you mewl his name as he eats your pussy from behind so lewdly.

from the very first time you knew it was over for every other guy the moment he touched you. no matter what anyone said about geto, that he was using you, he would never marry you, you didn’t care. you would be his devotee as long as he wanted.

and geto got all he wanted, a pretty little thing that didn’t complain or asked too many questions and best of all: that loved his music and understood his work.

“i know, you have to practice” you kiss him one last time before gathering your clothing from the floor, the hints of him not wanting to stay over were all memorized at this point, so you turn your back at him and make your way to the bathroom to brush your teeth.

but the usual sound of the door opening and closing never came, instead you saw him coming from behind to lace strong arms around your waist, “well maybe just tonight” he smells your hair and through the mirror he sees the tattoo bellow your belly button, just above the hem of your underwear. your prof of love: the logo of the band.

geto touches it and you giggle at the feathery feeling, like a tickle, he likes that sound. he likes you.

“i was thinking you should get another, right here” a finger caress your right ass cheek.

“the same one?” you ask confused.

“no, silly, something else” he gets down hands caressing your hips and kissing the extension of your butt, “my name.”

[scarletsknight]

f*ck me like you’re famous

wc: 3.3k

pairing: eddie x fem!reader

synopsis: the man everyone wants only wants you 

cw: 18+ mdni!!, rockstar!eddie, non canon au, smut, use of marijuana, mentions of alcohol consumption, established relationship, pet names, teasing, eddie's rings (y’all alr know), choking, fingering, oral sex (giving/receiving), orgasm denial, praising, hair pulling, reader has an oral fixation (lowkey), multiple orgasms, mirror sex (not really but kinda), lil bit of possessiveness, overuse of the word fuck, marking, sex while under the influence, unprotected sex, aftercare, fluff?

a/n: this has been sitting in my drafts since my first acc got snipped and just never reposted 😭 but i lowkey wanna get back into writing for this account. pls don’t come for me if i don’t follow through tho life is just fucking crazy rn but i miss this blog and i miss you guys so i’ll try. but until then i hope y’all enjoy this!! 🫶🏽

Eddie wasn't expecting much difference when Corroded Coffin started playing at the Hideout on Fridays instead of Tuesdays. But the crowd more than quadrupled in size, and it seemed to keep growing every week they came back. 

In the middle of one of their songs, Eddie spotted you not too far from the small stage.

You had been fixated on the band's lead guitarist since you got here, barely taking your eyes from him as he expertly moved his fingers over the strings of his instrument. 

This is what Eddie's always wanted; playing for an actual crowd of people and not just five drunks. But now, as he hears the cheers and sees everyone headbanging along to the music, a dream he's had for so long, all he can do is focus on you. 

After their set was over, Eddie was surprisingly quick to start loading their things into his van.

Eddie was getting no help from his bandmates as they were distracted by the group of girls that had come up and started talking to them. One of them even tried flirting with Eddie, but he quickly excuses himself once he finds you again, smoking.

He weaves his way past the people crowding the alleyway behind the bar, walking through clouds of smoke.

With your back turned to him, you didn't see him coming as you were in the middle of a conversation with your friends, passing a joint around. 

Eddie's eyes slowly drank you in as he approached you.

To say you look good would be an understatement. Not that Eddie would ever think otherwise, but it was something about the fitting leather pants you were wearing that he was slowly growing obsessed with. 

You feel two hands on your hips, and your back meets his chest. Eddie snakes his arms around you. 

Resting your head against Eddie's shoulder, you turn your head to face him. 

"My love," you lazily grin at him. 

"Hi, angel," Eddie cupped your jaw and brought your lips to his. He could taste the faint traces of alcohol on your tongue and the smoke your lips still tasted of. 

The friends you arrived with all commended Eddie and his band for their performance before you added onto the praises.

"You guys were fucking amazing," you tell him. 

"You really think so?" he asks. 

You turn your body toward him, wrapping your arms around his neck. 

"Yeah, of course," you nod, "And I could tell your little groupies thought so too," you said. 

Eddie scoffed, "Groupies? I don't have groupies."

"I beg to differ," you say. Eddie follows your eyes, looking at the same girl from earlier, watching you and Eddie, seeming a little mad that someone else has their hands all over him. But you don't give a shit; Eddie was yours first. 

"You jealous?" he teases.

"Never. You're so fucking hot," you tangle your fingers in his hair pulling him closer as if there was any space left between you, "And I don't know, I kinda loved watching everyone go crazy over you, knowing you're gonna fuck my brains out later."

Eddie backed you up against the side of your friend's car, deepening the kiss as he held your face. 

"Keep talking and looking at me like that, I'll take you right here," he threatens, and you laugh. 

Eddie slid his leg between yours, making you hum against his lips, and you felt his thighs come into contact with your core. 

"Eddie," you murmur. From the look in your eyes, he could already tell what you were thinking. 

"Wanna get out of here?" 

"Do you really have to ask?" you smirk.

You bid your friends goodbye, Eddie thanking all of them for coming and letting them know when and where Corroded Coffin is playing next. Walking to his van, hand in hand, Eddie opens the passenger side door for you after you said your byes to the rest of the band. 

Eddie kept one hand on the wheel while the other rested on your thigh. Briefly looking over at you, Eddie feels his chest swell. He watches you roll a joint for him, not wanting to waste any time once you get home, and he couldn't be more in love.

Watching your face twist up in concentration as you wrap the paper around the bud, using the skills he taught you, only made something stir inside Eddie. His hand on your leg started inching higher and higher, firmly squeezing your thigh. 

"Babe, don't start. I'm tryna concentrate," you said, rolling the paper between your fingers. 

"Can't help it when you're the hottest girlfriend on the planet," he grins. 

You glance over at him out of the corner of your eye. "Just shut up and keep your eyes on the road, Munson," you said. 

But Eddie didn't miss the smile that stretched across your face from his words. 

Once Eddie was parked, he hopped out of the van with the freshly rolled joint between his lips, still unlit. He was humming one of Corroded Coffin's songs as he waited for you with his held hand out for you to take as you got out of the van. 

Knowing the whole place was empty, Eddie loudly sang as the two of you slow danced into his trailer. Eddie, dramatically swaying and spinning you around, had giggles spilling from your mouth as you made your way to his room. 

Taking off his shoes and jacket, Eddie swipes a lighter from his desk before sitting at the edge of his bed and sparking the joint. 

Eddie hummed delightedly as thick clouds of smoke entered his lungs. He fell back onto his bed, staring up at his ceiling, taking another drag. 

Having gotten distracted by your boyfriend's immense music collection, not knowing what to put on, you finally make your way over to him. 

Eddie feels the bed sink on either side of his legs as you climb on top of him. He rests one hand on your hip while he smokes with the other. 

You pluck the joint out of his mouth, bringing the filter to your lips and taking a hit for yourself. 

Both his hands are on you now, moving up to your waist. You readjust yourself in his lap, and you hear Eddie sigh. You start subtly dragging your hips against his as you expel the smoke through your nose.

Eddie looked up at you like you were a goddess he was more than ready to worship. 

"God, you're so fucking perfect," Eddie said, "And all mine." 

You would've clenched your thighs together if Eddie's body wasn't between them. You leaned down, grabbing Eddie's jaw and bringing his lips closer to yours. Eddie parted his lips as you blew the smoke into his mouth. 

"And you're mine," you whisper, kissing his face. 

You both sit up, your lips still connected to his. 

"You know that I love you," he stared up at you, his big brown eyes drowning in adoration for you.

"I know," you lean your forehead against his, "I love you too," you tell him before pressing your lips to his.

"Ever since high school. The moment you walked into O'Donnell's class 30 minutes late wearing that goddamn skirt," Eddie slides his hands up your thighs.

You hum into his mouth, kissing him deeply.

"Just promise you won't forget me when you guys become famous," you joke.

"I would never," he says, "You think I'm crazy enough to give this pussy up."

"I hate you," you giggle against his lips.

"Didn't you just say you love me?"

"Yeah, well I change my mind and take it back," you teasingly say, getting out of his lap.

You turn your back to him, but Eddie doesn't let you get too far before he's on his feet too, wrapping his arms around you. Laughs spill from your lips as he holds you against his chest, burying his face into your neck.

"Tell me you love me," he said lowly in your ear, the raspiness of his voice causing slick to pool between your legs.

"No," you said like a moody child.

"Come on, sweetheart, just tell me."

Eddie's fingers found the buttons on your pants, starting to undo them. You wiggle your hips a little assisting Eddie in getting the leather down your legs. He slipped one of his hands between your thighs, stroking your clothed heat.

If Eddie's arm wasn't wrapped around your middle, your knees would've buckled. Between being high and having been incredibly horny for your boyfriend all night, you were extremely sensitive to his touch.

"Let me hear it," he rasps in your ear.

"Eddie," you let your head fall back against his shoulder.

"Mhm?" he hums into your neck.

"I-" the words die on your tongue when he slips his hand into your underwear.

You whimper, feeling the cool metal of his rings against your warm skin. He runs his fingers through your folds, letting your slick coat his digits, purposely neglecting your clit.

"All this for a man you hate?" he scoffs.

You whine, squirming in his arms, trying to move your hips against his hand. But Eddie's strength doesn't allow for it.

"Tell me you love me and I'll give you anything, baby."

You quickly drop the act, falling deeper into this headspace, desperate for Eddie to do anything.

"I love you, Eddie."

"See? That wasn't so hard, now, was it."

He kisses your cheek, starting to rub small circles on your clit. You practically melt against his body, and he falls back onto his bed with you between his legs. You turn your head to capture Eddie's lips in a kiss. At the same time, you're lifting your hips and pulling your underwear off, carelessly letting the piece of fabric hang from your ankle.

Eddie grabs your thighs, keeping them apart. He brings his hand back down to your pussy, lazily playing with your clit.

"Look at you, baby," you follow Eddie's eyes to the mirror by his bed. The sight of you between his legs as he toyed with your clit should've flooded you with embarrassment, but you were already too far gone to care. "So fucking beautiful." he kissed your temple.

"Eds," you start squirming.

"Yeah, sweetheart?"

"Please," you grabbed his wrist, directing his hand where you really needed him.

"So so wet," the tip of his finger teasingly circled your hole before slipping inside you, "And so fucking tight." he then added a second.

You braced yourself with your hands on Eddie's thighs, your nails scratching the denim of his jeans.

"That feel good, baby?"

"Y-Yes. So good."

Eddie pressed his lips to yours as he found a steady rhythm for his fingers. He pushes his tongue into your mouth, and you moan around the wet muscle as he curls his fingers against your soft walls.

"Oh god, Eddie—please," you tell him.

Your legs threatened to close around his hand before he pulled them apart with his other hand. The same hand trails up your body, cupping your boob over your shirt, feeling your perky nipple beneath the material since you opted for no bra tonight. He tweaked the sensitive nub between his fingers, causing you to gasp and your pussy to flutter around his fingers.

"Fuck-m'gonna cum."

"Yeah? you wanna cum all over my fingers, pretty girl?"

"Yes! please please l-"

You let out a broken cry, feeling your orgasm being so abruptly ripped away. You heard Eddie laugh as your hips tried to chase his hand before he left you untouched.

"That's what you get for acting like a brat," he said.

That teasing little fucker.

Turning yourself around to face him, Eddie sees the pout on your face before it's taken over by a smirk.

"I'm sorry, baby," you slowly let your fingers trail down his chest, "let me make it up to you," you fluttered your lashes at him.

Eddie grinned as your hand reached the front of his jeans, palming his semi hard on through his clothes.

He pulled his shirt over his head, flinging it somewhere in the room. You quickly undo his jeans, slipping your hand inside his boxers and beginning to stroke his length.

"Fuck, princess," Eddie groans when you squeeze your fist around him.

You started pulling his jeans off along with his underwear, and Eddie kicked them off his legs the rest of the way. You positioned yourself between his legs, circling your thumb around the tip, smearing the beads of precum all over his cock.

You look up at him through your lashes before you take him into your mouth. You start slow, only sucking on the head, letting the salty precum land on your tongue while you wrap your hand around the base of his cock.

"That's it, sweetheart. Just like that," Eddie sighs, stroking the back of your head as you take more of him into your mouth.

Whether it was your high or just your infatuation with this man, you couldn't get enough of the feeling of Eddie in your mouth. The weight of his cock on your tongue and his breathy moans were enough to have you pressing your thighs together.

You run your tongue along the underside of his cock, coating his length in your saliva. Eddie ran a hand through his hair, brushing his bangs out of his eyes as if he didn't want to miss a thing. Even with tears in your eyes and spit pooling out of the corners of your mouth, Eddie still couldn't take his eyes off you. 

The muscles in Eddie's stomach contracted as he started to roll his hips against your face. You slowly started taking more of him into your mouth, focusing on breathing through your nose as you relax your throat for Eddie. You didn't care about the limits of your gag reflex, taking Eddie's dick deeper down your throat.

Eddie tangled his fingers in your hair, pulling you off him. You whine, not just from the pleasurable pain throbbing from your scalp but the loss of his cock in your mouth.

"Shit, you almost made me cum," he said, shallowly breathing.

"So why didn't you?" you ask, ready to slide him back into your mouth.

Eddie's hold on your hair tightens as he holds you where he wants you.

He smiles as you weakly moan, "Cause as much as I love watching you take me down that pretty little throat of yours, I really need to fuck you."

You moan again, but this time at his words. 

"Please fuck me, Eddie," you didn't care how desperate you sounded. "Please."

"I know, angel, I know."

Once every piece of clothing was discarded, your teeth clashed with his in a heated kiss. He pushed his tongue into your mouth, easily dominating the kiss. Your head met the pillows as Eddie's laid you down. He took his place between your legs, looking down at you. 

Your eyes travel down Eddie's body, studying the ink littered all over his skin like you haven't hundreds of times before.

The muscles in his arm flexed as he pumped his cock in his hand, and you wanted desperately to squeeze your thighs together. 

"How bad do you want it?"

"I want you so fucking badly, Eddie. Been thinking about having you all night. It was hard not thinking about getting up on that stage and letting you have your way with me in front of everyone, so they know who you belong to."

Eddie raises an eyebrow at you before you shrug.

"I told you, not jealous. Maybe just a little possessive."

"That's even hotter," Eddie tells you, "You're mine just as much as I'm yours," you felt his cockhead nudging into your entrance. 

"Yours...Mine," you moan out the word as he slides into you.

You thought the feeling of Eddie inside of you, filling you up, would make you delirious. 

"Fuck, baby, you feel so good."

"Eddie~" 

Eddie started moving slowly, only rocking his hips into yours steadily. 

Eddie knew you as well as the back of his hand. From every movement you make to the noises that spill from your lips, it's like he could tell what you wanted without vocalizing it.

He circled his arms under your legs, your calves resting on his shoulders. 

"Yes—my fucking god, Eddie," you buried your head into the pillows. 

You reach out to him, your nails leaving crescent-shaped indents in his skin as he folds you over, pressing your knees to your chest. Eddie's cock deliciously stretched your walls, feeling him so deep you were sure he was in your guts. 

Eddie dropped your legs from his shoulders to kiss you. He swallowed your moans, sucking your bottom lip between his teeth. 

"You're so fucking wet," he groans against your lips. 

"You feel so good," you whimper. 

Sitting back on his haunches, he spreads your legs wider, mesmerized by the way his cock disappears inside you. 

His cock twitches against your soft walls, seeing you fucked out beneath him. Your tits bounce with every one of his movements. Goosebumps rose on your skin from his rings as he slid his hand up your torso. He didn't miss the chance to tease you, rolling and pinching one of your nipples between his fingers. 

You grab Eddie's wrist, silently telling him what you want as you bring his hand to your neck. Eddie wraps his fingers around your throat, applying pressure to the sides, sure to not crush your windpipe. 

Your eyes rolled back, and Eddie could feel your pussy pulsing around him. Feeling the stainless steel digging into your skin added to the euphoria coursing through your veins. 

Eddie saw the smile etched onto your face as he pounded into you and thought he couldn't be more in love. 

"Shit, angel, I don't know if I'm gonna last any longer."

"Please don't stop. I'm so close."

"You gonna cum for me, sweetheart?"

"Yes...Please, Eddie." 

"I want you to cum with me," Eddie's hand finds its way between you, rubbing uncoordinated circles on your clit. 

All you could do was weakly nod at him. 

The music was barely heard over the sounds of your moans and heavy breaths with the obscene squelching coming from where your bodies connected. You blink your eyes to refocus on the man above you. Eddie's messy hair clung to his forehead and neck from the thin layer of sweat covering his skin. The guitar pick he has on the small chain around his neck dangles above your face, and you slightly tug on it to bring him back down and meet his lips with yours. 

"I fucking love you," you said to Eddie as you came. 

Eddie couldn't hold off any longer, cumming after you said those words to him. His cum painted your walls white, slowly thrusting into you as your pussy milked his cock. 

"Fuck, I love you too," he mumbled into your mouth. 

You lazily made out, the both of you taking your time to come down from your highs. 

Eddie finally moved from between your legs, and you could already feel his cum start to spill out of you.

"Don't move," he tells you. 

"Like I have a choice. Unless you want another addition to the collection of stains."

"Like you aren't responsible for half the stains on this bed."

You gasp dramatically, "And whose fault is that!?"

Eddie laughed, picking up his boxers from the pile of clothes on the floor before leaving the room. He came back shortly with a damp washcloth and took his place back between your legs. 

You saw Eddie lick his lips as he stared at your pussy, messy with his cum. 

"Baby, the sheets," you remind him.

"Right," he snapped out of his thoughts, "It's kinda hot, though," he said with a smirk, wiping your sticky skin. 

"You're so gross," you shake your head. 

"But you love it," he grins.

a/n: feedback is appreciated!! thank you for reading <33

[honeyydrunk]

nct are such fraternity boy college athletes fuckboys coded it's insane !! everyone i see a video of those men with the homosexual tendencies, vaping addiction, and their athletic garments, it really only cements this theory. their disography and music videos add to this too 😔✋ u know 90's love, universe (let's play ball), alley oop, bad alive eng ver.

can imagine them walking around this elite prestigious campus all loud and obnoxious. they know everyone is looking at them and want to fuck them too. they're chronic drinkers, vapers, cheaters, fuckboys. what would get most students expelled, they do on a tuesday afternoon.

nct are mostly made up of foreigners right? watch them walk around the campus as rich international students, some are here on academic or athletic scholarships they don't need. everything they own is designer. playing the 'sorry my korean isn't so good, can you help me?' card, and what they want help with is you sucking their dick.

the korean members aren't any better. they're every single horrible stereotype you hear of korean hongdae fuckboys. will come up to you all sweet and pretty, but they're horrid.

cw for under the cut: they are toxic males

can literally imagine haechan vaping on the college campus, moaning in the back of the class obnoxiously, and pulling the thing where he jokingly asks for your number ALL THE TIME. going to college parties and getting wasted after 3 drinks idk 🤷 ,,, he'd be so whiny and teasing too. bc obviously he's a rude BITCH but he's so pretty and whiny and flirtatious. he's fucking everything in sight, absolute whore!! his body count is triple his age. he'd genuinely try to suck one of his friends' dick and claim it doesn't mean anything because he has clothes on !! 😔✋ he'd be stroking his dick while you're in the room, whimpering your name. the type to get on his knees and beg for any kind of attention from you..

mark lee starting off being a cute college boy canadian transfer but becomes the NOTORIOUS korean pastor's son fuckboy in like the span of 3 months. he'll act real nice, and that's because he is real nice. being super sweet and asking if you want to get coffee with him and study. and he's so good with his words you'll think that's all it is. but then of course, since he's so good with his words he'll have you blushing and giggling as he takes you back to his apartment and gets your clothes off. talking yapping so much you don't even realise what he has you doing, that you're just another girl he's pulled. he'll still be whispering when his face is in your pussy. telling you how easily you cum. "dang girl, wait a lil' can't you?" implying you're the whore,

YUTA yuta is the entire campus crush. the star football ⚽️ player and the rockstar vocalist in a band. has sex with all the groupies that come to his concerts. he's dragging people up on stage to shotgun them while the guitar break plays. absolute heartbreaker. would definitely kick the ball to your head so that when it hits you, he has to go over check if you're alright, take you up to the nurse and wait with you. he is such a liar, it genuinely hurts. lying all the time and making up words and stories left and right. but he smells like cherries and watery perfume !! he tastes like it too. you'll be coming to all his garage concerts just to see if you'll be the one he takes backstage to fuck after. he's like a god, half the time you don't even realise he's a student like the rest of you. he's just an angel sent to have fun and fuck or smth.

jaemin nah he's horrid. he'll cheat on you, and with his cute smile you'll forgive him instantly. 😔✋ he'll spend a little cash dress you in designer, make you cum until you faint, and tell you how beautiful and perfect you are for him. he will genuinely have you thinking those girls meant nothing to him, theyre just a way to vent his stress and you're the only one he loves. and then bro will say he can't stay the night, as he needs to wake up early for training. you agree, obviously. and he left for another girl's house to fuck her too. when you met him he smelled so sweet, and it was someone else's perfume. each of his girls swear they're his favourite of his, and one day he's planning fucking them all in the same room.

JOHNNY SUH? he would abuse the american transfer student status. he walks around without a shirt, soaking wet, and never get pulled up. he's rich too, got bands on his wrist and multiple cars. going on holidays overseas every chance he get and hosting parties every weekend. when you get drunk at one of them, almost falling off the balcony, someone will come up and help you to a chair. he'll take real good care of you, going above and beyond. so you can't let this guy leave when he's everything you've ever wanted. so you pull yourself onto him and ride him while the party rages on inside. make sure his dick feels so good he'll ask for your number. but you don't know that you're the fifth girl who's thrown herself at him that night.

taeyongie ^-^ he's the prettiest guy you've ever seen. bros too sweet and shy to be handing out with the rest of the neo WHORES. he's the leader of a lot of clubs but he mainly sits in cute little cafes. genuinely he seemed too adorable? to be considered the 'leader' of some horrific ahh fuckboys. until you check twitter and you see someone's reposted his MANY MULTIPLE HE HAS A LOT sex tapes. he's surrounded by ridiculously hot guys and girls, and they're passing him around like a joint, and he's begging to be humiliated. they're making him cum so much he crying. he's stronger than most of them but he's letting himself be thrown around like a doll. absolutely wrecked. looking in the camera with pretty black eyes and a slurred voice before someone shoves a cock back in this throat "am i pretty?" zhong chenle is the epitome of the chinese international student stereotype. he's almost never there, never takes off his sunglasses. he has several of those douyin type baddies trailing after him. "you have nice collarbones and pretty eyes, i like. what's your instagram?" he'll be talking with his friend renjun about what yacht he should buy during class. he can buy your affection simply because he's just that rich. will shove his black card down his pants and tell you there's only one way to get it. buys rolex watches so that he can have it on while he fingers you. dresses you in diamonds and he doesn't want to be paid back in cash. qian kun is there on an academic scholarship, but he doesn't need it. he's just that good, the school begs to have him attend. he's not a fuckboy in the conventional sense but he's just as nasty. he wants to have the perfect girl for him, to bring back to his family. he'll look for the most naive but academic girl he can. he's a manipulator. he's trying to mold you into what he wants. he'll replace your entire wardrobe with designer, but he picked out all the clothes. he'll plan cute dates for you every day, but it's to stop you from hanging out with your skanky friends. he'll buy you a new phone, but he's already added software tech to spy on you. in some essences, even though he's not a fuckboy, he's much worse than one.

jisung, like taeyong, looks so sweet. but he's NASTY. he'll seem too quiet to be hanging out with the rest of the dreamie WHORES. so you don't mind sitting next to him in your lecture. but he's just a mix of all of dream. he's good with his words like mark, and he'll have you agreeing to meet at his place EASY. he's too cute to refuse like haechan and jaemin. and then the renjun part hits, silent and sneaky, he'll be doing everything to make you think you're coming on to him. once he finally has you, he'll make a mess of you like a feral animal, the way you've heard jeno fucks. and you realise he's just like the rest of the dreamies, you shouldn't have thought otherwise. he might actually be worse than all of them.

tell me if u want me to make these like a full post or add more characters IM SO CRAZY DELULU RN SORRY xx !! 💋

[elllisaaa]

something crazy came to me bc of this video i need to share

rockstar!heeseung hear me out… he’s the bassist and once he lays his eyes on you he knows he wants you for the night. you know that gaze he has on stage sometimes he can be such a flirt… if he was in a rock band dressed like this and playing the bass i wouldn’t survive

this fucking outfit has been all over my fyp these days and i'm dying a little more inside everytime i see him, especially when it's the fucking hip thrusts from paradoxx invasion choreo (yummy).

ROCKSTAR!HEESEUNG who is cocky as fuck because he knows he can have whatever girl he wants. but the moment he saw you in the crowd, he knew that tonight, it was you that he wanted. contrary to what everyone thinks, he's not taking girls back to his place that often. yes, he loves the attention of his groupies, and he likes to flirt with them, but only some of them are able to catch his interest. plus, it is even hotter to know that he could pick anyone but that he will do it only if he wants to.

but tonight, he knows who he wants to take home. throughout the whole concert, his eyes are on you, grinning whenever your gaze crosses and your cheeks heat up a little at the way heeseung is licking his lips while he's entirely focused on yours. and honestly, by the time the band goes out of stage, you're dripping wet and dying to see him again at the after party.

and of course, heeseung is there, waiting for you even if he doesn't want to admit it. he's still wearing the same outfit he had on stage, the sleeveless shirt showing his arms muscles and you had to mentally stop yourself from drooling over him. you only have the time to sip from your cup of alcohol one time before heeseung comes to you, shamelessly checking you out.

"hi, baby." if it was everybody else, you would've only rolled your eyes and turned away, but his playful smile and his charisma had you hooked. so you only smiled back and started a casual conversation with him.

usually, heeseung disliked this small talk thing. but with you, it was different. he could've listened to you all night, your voice enchanting him and the way your lips were moving hypnotizing him. his eyes hadn't stop roaming around your body, it was as if he was undressing you with his eyes, and you didn't mind because you were doing the same to him.

"why don't we go back to mine, baby ?" a cheeky smile spread on your lips as you looked at him, cocking your head to the side. "and why would i do that ?" - "maybe this will convince you." heeseung put his cup aside and immediately grabbed your hips, pulling your body flush against him while his lips crashed on yours.

he didn't care about all the people watching you, he just wanted to taste you. and the moment his tongue danced against yours made him realize that he will need way more than one night with you, because you were too addicting to stop there. "so, are you ready to go ?" - "yeah, get me out of here."

but both of you were too excited to wait until you were somewhere private. so heeseung laid you down in the backseat of his car, his hand slipping under the hem of your short skirt as he continued to devour your mouth. "fuck, you're already so wet for me baby. you liked the show that much ?" - "yes, you were so sexy on stage." a proud smile was eating his face as he pushed your panties to the side, rubbing his fingers against your clit and spreading your juices everywhere. "couldn't focus with the way you were watching me, baby, you were fucking me with your eyes. did you thought about how i could use these fingers on you rather than with my bass ?" you simply nodded, scared of the sounds you might let out if you talked as heeseung pushed one of his fingers inside.

"you're so fucking pretty like that, letting me touch you where everyone could see." his filthy words had you whining so easily, and by the time he added another finger, you were already going dumb. "heeseung, please…" - "what do you want baby ? use your words." his hot breath hit your neck, and seconds after, he was sucking on the tender skin, making you moan uncontrollably. "i want your cock, please, please…" - "there we go, good girl."

heeseung got rid of his shirt, and pulled down his pants just enough to free his cock, rolling a condom onto it before teasing your entrance with only the tip. the way your walls were clenching around nothing everytime he pulled out had him biting his lips to the sight. you were truly the prettiest thing he had ever seen, and when he finally pushed his cock all the way inside, he was certain that he could never get enough.

"you're squeezing me so tight, baby, fuck !" heeseung groaned in your ears, holding your thighs open for him to pound into you. "f-feels so good." - "yeah ?" he only received another loud moan as an answer, and when he found your sweet spot, you cried out his name one more time, spurring him on to quicken his pace. your nails were digging into the skin of his back, and heeseung loved it all, encouraging you to leave your marks on him too.

"'m gonna cum, i'm so close hee, please…" - "shit, wish i could give you my cum and fill you up, baby." these words were enough for the wave to crash over you, moaning loudly. the way you were clenching around him drove heeseung crazy and he started to ram into you, chasing his own orgasm as he gripped onto your hips as some leverage. he swore he saw heaven when he emptied himself into the condom, laying on top of you and catching his breath as he tried to regain some consciousness.

the windows of his car were fogged up, and everyone passing by could guess what the two of you were up to. "fuck, baby, you're incredible. i need to take you home and ruin you." - "please, yes." and so heeseung did just that. and he didn't want to see you leave, so he fucked you again in the morning. and for the first time in forever, he asked a girl for her number. but you were not just a girl, and you casted a spell on him.

[munson-blurbs]

Thinking about Rockstar!Eddie meeting you at an autograph signing and getting off to the thought of you after his show...

“Here ya go,” Eddie says, forcing a tired smile as he hands a freshly-autographed CD to a beaming fan. Pre-show merch signings were part of the deal, and they certainly brought in the extra cash, but after five months on the road, the members of Corroded Coffin are tired. Eddie scratches at the five o’clock shadow dotting his face, glancing at his watch. Just another ten minutes until they can wrap this up and start soundcheck. Then they’ll be back on the bus, shipping off to whatever city’s up next.

The security guard lets the next two people up to the table. Eddie reaches over to the pile of CDs, giving an exasperated sigh as he asks, “Name?”

That’s when he hears your voice.

His head snaps up, and he relaxes as he takes in your shy demeanor. You’re holding the hand of your friend–girlfriend?--hey, it’s the ‘90s; anything is possible. Your eyes sparkle as you say and spell your first name, biting your lower lip and averting your gaze from the gorgeous rockstar in front of you. “Pretty name,” he murmurs, writing a short message and swirling the Sharpie over the CD cover to make his exaggerated signature. “Pretty name for a pretty girl, yeah?”

You just giggle, and the girl next to you squeezes your hand. “She’s, like, completely in love with you,” she blabbers. “Every damn day since we got these tickets, it’s been, ‘What should I wear? Do you think Eddie will notice me?’”

You free your hand to elbow her, a little harsher than you’d intended. “Dianna!” you hiss, burying your face in your palms in a feeble attempt to hide your humiliation.

But Eddie just cocks his head, checking you out from head to toe. “Oh, he definitely noticed you,” he muses, handing you the CD with two lanyards. “You ladies wanna watch backstage? ‘Course you do; Charlie will bring you where you gotta go and, uh,” he looks directly at you, sending an excited shiver down your spine, “maybe we can notice each other a bit more later.”

You and Dianna nod vigorously as the beefy security guard leads you to the backstage VIP suite. A waiter comes around and takes your drink orders. You ask for a vodka soda, and Dianna gets a Long Island iced tea.

“You sure about that?” you whisper as the waiter walks away. “Those are really strong.”

Dianna shrugs. “It’s not every day we get free drinks. Might as well drink as much as we can.”

Meanwhile, Eddie’s fumbling his way through soundcheck, thinking about the way your breasts peeked out the top of your Corroded Coffin tank top, how your denim shorts perfectly cupped your ass, the shiny gloss that emphasized your lips. God, he wants those lips wrapped around his hard, throbbing–

“Munson? You wanna get your head out of your ass so we can put on a show?” Jeff’s voice booms through his mic. 

“He’s thinking about that hot chick he gave backstage passes to,” Gareth teases, and Simon makes kissy noises at their lead singer.

Eddie launches his guitar pick in Gareth’s direction, narrowly missing his head. “Shut the fuck up, all of you,” he grumbles, but he knows that they’re right. Just get through the show and she’s all yours. He palms himself over his pants discreetly. He’s never been more grateful for his guitar, since his tight leather pants do nothing to hide his burgeoning erection.

Corroded Coffin puts on a hell of a show, as usual. They close with “Rock Hard,” their hit single about hooking up with a groupie after a concert, and Eddie thanks every celestial being that it’s the last song of the night. As soon as the band thanks the audience and says their goodbyes, Eddie dashes offstage. He bolts into your suite, all sweat and smiles. “How’d you like the–” He stops, frowning when he sees an empty room, save for Charlie, who’s smoking a cigarette in a lounge chair. “Where is she?”

“Sorry, Casanova,” Charlie drawls. “Her little friend drank too much, got sick all over the bathroom. Had to get them outta here before she ruined anything else.”

Eddie groans, throwing his head back as his bandmates laugh at his misfortune. “Goddammit,” he hisses, pushing his perspiration-soaked hair from his eyes.

“C’mon, man,” Simon claps a hand on Eddie’s back. “There’s a bar down the street; plenty of the girls from the show will be there…” He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively.

“Nah, I’m just gonna head back to the bus. ‘M pretty beat.”

“Oh, something’s getting beat tonight,” Gareth jokes. Eddie flips him off, but once again, he’s right.

He’s barely closed the curtain to his makeshift bedroom before he’s hastily unbuttoning his leather pants, shoving his ringed hand into his boxer briefs. Just the sensation of his own touch has him bucking his hips. He runs his thumb over the bead of pre-cum pearling at his tip, using it to lubricate his palm. He uses his free hand to tug his pants down to his knees, sitting on the bed. He imagines you on your knees in front of him.

“S’big, isn’t it, baby?” Eddie coos. He leans over, letting a trail of saliva drip from his mouth to his shaft. “Thas’ right, spit on it. Such a dirty fuckin’ girl.” He grips the bedsheet with his left hand, dragging his right from base to tip. 

“What’s that? You want it in your mouth? Oh, pretty girl; you don’t have to ask twice.”

He fucks into his fist harder, feeling himself grow in his own grasp. “Mmm, let me make a mess of that face. Ruin that fuckin’ makeup you worked so hard on. Wanted me to notice you; well, I sure fuckin’ did. Knew I had to have you, sweet thing.” If you were actually here, you’d be gagging on his dick as your nose grazes the thatch of curls on his pevlis, tears reflexively gathering at the corners of your eyes. Your mascara would start to run; the telltale sign of a good blowjob.

He loosens his hold on the sheet, cupping his balls. “If you do that, ‘m gonna bust in that sinful mouth of yours, fuckin’ swear.” A harsh chuckle escapes his throat. “Bet you’d like that. Bet you’d take my whole load down your throat, swallow it all, yeah?”

Eddie brings himself right to the edge before forcing himself to slow down. “I know, baby. I know you wanna keep sucking me off. But I wanna–no, I gotta be in that perfect little pussy. Now, come sit on my cock. Nice and slow–thassit.” He tightens his grip on his length, keeping a slow rhythm to mimic the feeling of gradually filling you up. “You can take it, don’t worry. I’ve got you, baby girl.”

He bites his lower lip so hard that he swears it might bleed. “Oh, angel. Y’feel even better than I ever imagined, holy fuck.” He increases his pace, choking out a pathetic moan. “What’s that? You want me to come inside you? So desperate f’me, aren’t you?” He whimpers at the mental image of you bouncing on his cock, tits pressed up against the dusting of hair on his chest. “Come with me, fuck, wanna make you come. Want you to cream my cock while I fuckin’ fill you up.” Eddie lets out one last pornographic moan as thick, hot ropes of cum spurt out onto his thick fingers. He pants, trying to catch his breath as he comes down from the high of his orgasm.

Cleaning himself up, Eddie grumbles to himself about your stupid drunk friend and how he’s so tired of fucking his own hand. He falls asleep quickly, worn out from the combination of the concert and his own post-show escapades.

The next morning, Eddie wakes up and wipes the sleep from his eyes. The bus driver has already set out for their next destination, somewhere in Bumblefuck. Eddie doesn’t care, he just wants you. Real you, not the fantasy he’d conjured up last night.

“Hey, boss,” Charlie says when Eddie pads out to the bus’s common space. “Forgot to give this to you after the show.” He hands him a folded piece of paper, which reads:

Eddie:

Had to get Dianna home before she puked on the carpet. I was not paying for that to be replaced–the tickets for your autograph already bankrupted me…

But if you wanna stop by my hotel room later, just give me a call. I don’t think you were done noticing me. I certainly wasn’t done noticing you. 

xo

You signed your name with a glossy lip print and your hotel room extension.

“Charlie,” Eddie starts through gritted teeth, “if you can convince the driver to turn this bus around, I won’t fire you.”

--

[madelynraemunson]

Married au with Rockstar!Eddie where he's just a man STARVED when he goes home from tour. LIKEEEE, he's just a needy husband in need of reader's loving and he's been lacking just that for months now ☹️☹️☹️ (please the Eddie brainrot is consuming my every being.)

☆ The Crawl ☆

rockstar!eddie munson x housewife!afab!reader

CW: 18+ obvs, needy, pathetic sub eddie, dom-ish afab reader, dick riding, cum eating, dirty talkin’ nasty goodness, eddie literally crawling towards us 🫠🫠, facial, implied unprotected p in v sex, dribbler!eddie

author's note: this is my first time writing sub!dribbler!eddie hehehe eds is usually a dom!shooter in my universe. i hope you all enjoy!!! 💌

WC: 686 words

“Need you to have your way with me, sweetheart…need you to use me…Can’t take it anymore. Please."

You meet your husband's desperate gaze as he brushes his stiff cock against your thighs, prodding you for the sensual loving you had promised him when he was to come back from tour.

Craving every inch of your touch, the man is at your mercy. And that damn polaroid picture you sent him a few days ago? The damn polaroid of that pretty pussy of yours, your glistening folds spread apart by your perfectly manicured fingers, the white border holding space for the title, “all for you” signed by your rouge red lipstick? Eddie damn near kicked the tour bus driver out his seat to turn the vehicle back around himself.

But, of course, the show had to go on. And as stoked as Eddie was for Corroded Coffin's Rise of Kas Tour, nothing compares to being with you, wrapped up in your intimacy in the comfort of the home you two share.

And now 385 days later, you two are here.

“Need you to ride me dry…” he pleads. “Need both lips on my cock baby, he’s missed you so much…”

“Nuh uh,” you smirk, enjoying yourself just a little. “Not gonna do away with the flatteries just yet.”

“Fucking please, princess,” Eddie begs. “Been blue-balled all tour, you can’t do this to me.”

“Oh but I can.”

Hellbent and greedy, your smitten, pussy starved husband treads hopelessly towards you on all fours as you guide him to the bedroom.

Too many press photos and interviews. Too many groupies lining up outside the tour bus to claim their spots with Gareth, Grant, and Jeff. And far too many titties to sign, but Eddie knows he shouldn’t refuse, cuz since he built his brand off being a sex-crazed rockstar, rejecting the ladies would mark the end of his — very successful — career.

Too much of tour life on repeat. And never enough of you. And when he finally gets you, the whining only seems to intensify.

Your twinkling, cum-coated tits bounce in Eddie's face as you frantically taunt your clit with his wide, veiny cock. The sight of you tossing your head back, a mewling mess as he splits you open is enough to tug orgasms out of Eddie’s blissfully aching body. And as you clench around him, screams getting louder by the pump, his spewing tip begins to twitch with every jab into your guts.

“Oh baby…shit, mmfuck, ‘m so fucking sensitive baby, you have no idea.”

Your excitement pools at the base of his naval. Knowing he's not going to last all that long, Eddie whimpers at the sight, his photographic conscious saving the episodic eye-sore for a midday work flashback.

“I love you so much,” he moans. Your orgasm begins to splash around him with every bounce. "Missed your beautiful face. Missed your tight fucking pussy."

“I love you, sweet boy,” you hum. “Your dick makes me feel so good, Eddie, fuck. You’re not going anywhere.”

Eddie releases one strained groan before he loses control. Now completely shifting the roles, Eddie pins you into place as he probes for his finish, thrusting into you as the sweat rushes down his body, his full sack beating at your skin as you ride out your last together.

“Fuck baby, yes baby, yes baby,” he pants. “Gonna be the death of me baby, oh fuck…”

And before he completely empties himself in you, Eddie retreats and finishes on your face. He beams down at you in awe as he glazes the hollows of your cheeks, glosses your lips, and caters to the tip of your cum-quenched tongue. Eddie then swoops down to collect his own eager laps, before thanking you with a kiss.

And, to your surprise, when all is said and done, and you’re all wiped down with a nice warm washcloth from the dryer, your husband books it to his office as if there were something else waiting for him behind that door.

“Eds,” you wonder. “What are you doing?”

“I need to write a song.”

[brutallygod]

minors don't interact !

cw: female!reader, dubcon, groupie culture, power imbalance, mention of squirting.

thinking about your fav being a rockstar and he has you as his groupie lover <3

thinking about how you're always going to his concerts and you catch his eye from the very first one. now, he has taken fans into his bed. of course, he has. he's a sleaze like that and the power imbalance thrills him. so when he notices how often you're going, how you coyly flutter your eyelash whenever you two lock eyes, he knew he had to have you.

and thinking about how during a break, he tells a guard to let you come backstage. on stage, he watches the guard so as he told and after the show, sweaty and running on adrenaline, he rushes backstage. as soon as he sees you, he stalks over, grabs your arm and pulls you into a private room.

and thinking about how he's immediately on you, hands running over your body as he cages you in between his body and the wall. "wanted you as soon as i saw you wear that tight dress during the first show," he murmurs before descending on your lips. he kisses like how plays—passionate, rough, dominating.

and thinking about how you aren't allowed a word in��he's there to take what he wants and you're there to give it to him. you allow him to kiss you, whimpering against his lips as your hands grasp on to his shoulders. he takes you then and there, pressed against the wall as he sinks his cock in you. you're crying out for more and he gives it.

and thinking about how he fingers you before each show, fingers sinking deep within your cunt and fucking you until you're crying out and cumming. he licks up his fingers as he runs out on stage, smirking. the image of leaving you in that private room, legs spread and cunt leaking with your juices, is imprinted in his mind as he plays.

and thinking about how he always takes you backstage after shows, fucking you in private rooms then taking you to luxurious hotels to resume, until you're squirting all over his cock. your cries and moans are music to his ears, the best he's ever heard.

and thinking about him pushing you to your knees so he can fuck your throat, making you sound as hoarse as he does after a show.

and thinking about him calling you his pretty little slut. about him commenting about how much you drool for his cock. about him commenting he knew your cunt ached for him.

you're caught in his web of pleasure and lust, cunt molding around his cock and fingers as he takes you over and over again.

eren yeager, matsukawa issei, miya atsumu, todoroki touya / dabi, childe, blade (hsr) + your fav!

[musedblues]

FOREVER AND FOR REAL

(photo edits by @pitifulbaby_ on insta)

a/n: daisy jones eat your fucking heart out. i present yet another rockstar!eddie fic. this one features fem rockstar!reader, a fake marrige, a lot of reckless behavior and lovely little ending.

warnings: descriptions of sex, drugs, rock and roll, themes abt alcoholism/addiction, mentions of abusive ex partners, god-awful rom com tropes, fantastical bullshit. sorry not sorry for this yall know i love a good fake marriage 

30k

MINORS DNI

/// New York 1988 -

"So, how did it start with you and Eddie?" The woman from the Rolling Stone smiled as she quizzed you. Her voice was low, her demeanor was patient.

"He asked for my autograph." You revealed with a laugh.

///

Sunset Strip 1986 -

The rooftop party was in full swing. Your labels oldest and most endeared studio musician had announced his retirement and everyone who was anyone showed up to his celebratory send off.

Ozzy was stumbling from guest to guest. Prince was casting smug grins from his poolside perch. You were being reprimanded by you manager in the middle of the shindig.

"Go wish Terry a happy retirement and maybe go catch up with some other studio musicians while you're at it. You can't let your last guitarists new rumors ruin your reputation. We'll need to hire some of these people to record your next album, you know?" Kelsey snarled, his cigarette-stained smile repulsing you. He was a hard ass. That made him a damn successful manager. And a shitty fucking person.

You grumbled and spun to do what he said, trying to stay in favor with the musicians who worked under your label was a must. If only you would have known falling in love with your last guitarist would result in the messiest breakup of all time. If only he hadn't spread such vial rumors about you to his fellow studio musicians and the press.

But they were just rumors. And you had proven yourself to be one of the music's scenes most prominent figures in the past few years. You wouldn't let this hiccup be the one to topple over everything you worked so hard to achieve.

On your mission to save your name, you stopped by the rooftop bar. There were a cast of patrons who parted to let you ahead in line. That was a good sign. You still held an absurd amount of social import. After asking the man behind the counter for a vodka soda, a commotion turned everyone's gaze.

Out of thin air, was the illustrious Eddie Munson. In a flash he jumped behind the mini bar and proceeded to pour the drink you asked for. He was hammered, the drunkest of any attendee. He was smiling at you as you accepted the vodka... and then he introduced himself.

"I of course know who you are." Eddie smiled, ignoring the bartender who was frustratedly insisting the guitarist get out from behind the workspace. Eddie was leaned against the counter, watching you laugh and roll your eyes. Of course, he knew you. And of course, you knew him. He was the newest name attached to your shared label, but perhaps the most famous.

In the one year that Eddies band Corroded Coffin had appeared on the scene, their music and personage had taken over rock and roll. Their tours were selling out, their greenrooms were stuffed with groupies, their producers were booking studios so far out in advance your next session had to be postponed.

"I've known who you are since your first single became the soundtrack of the summer of '84. I've had your posters on my walls. Would it be impossibly tacky of me to ask for your autograph?" Eddie slurred, but past his inebriation lied a sparkle in his eye that you read as genuine.

"Our generations most admired guitar virtuoso is asking for my signature?" You snorted. "I should be asking for yours. Could sell it for millions." You grinned back, watching Eddie's wide smile faulter as the bartender had started swatting his shoulders, demanding he leave.

"Okay, okay. I'll go." The rockstar turned and submitted with a sigh, and a paused smirk. "But only after one more shot." Eddie spun to grab a bottle of whiskey, lifting the nozzle to hold over his opened mouth, draining more than a shot worth as the small crowd of party goers cheered him on. The bartender cursed Eddie, snatched the bottle back, and announced he was calling security. Eddie had heard enough, hoping over the bar, his boots shinning across your field of vision as he whizzed past you, landing stealthily, and grabbing your wrist on his sudden escape.

"That way!" You chuckled, just buzzed enough to let yourself enjoy the change of pace. Eddie darted in your demanded direction and found a pair of elevators around the rooftops pool, busied by party goers.

As the pair of you lunged into the lift, you reached for the buttons to shut the doors fast as possible. They slid together in slow motion as your fingers fumbled over the buttons, pressing a couple different floors by mistake as the ride descended. Eddie's laughter rang in your ear as he drunkenly bobbed to find footing. But soon as the pair of you were being lowered to freedom, your ride creaked eerily to a halt. The doors did not open. The ride did not move.

"Oh no." You called, racing to press more buttons but worrying that your initial doing so was what had stopped the ride. But surely the button meant to press for an emergency was safe, right?

"We stopped?" Eddie realized, his lithe grin faltering, sobriety bubbling into his gaze.

"Shit, I'm so sorry." You turned to face the rockstar, who was just realizing the gravity of your situation. Just then a crackly voice rang through the rides system, informing the pair of you that your alert was received and asking what had happened. A nice enough woman assured help was on the way and insisted the pair of you stay calm. You started to apologize to Eddie once more when he waved to dismiss you.

"No, it's my fault for dragging you away with me. I'm kind of a pro at causing so much trouble."

"There are worse rockers to be trapped in an elevator with." You chuckled, leaning back against one of the walls railings.

"Took the words outta my mouth... I do want your autograph. Heartbeaten was the only album I played the winter it came out."

"You're a very dangerous flirt, you know that?" You warned, looking the guitarist up and down. It was beyond flattering to hear your music complimented by a musician you admired all the same. It didn't hurt how easy it was to look at Eddie, either. Leather clad, hair a mess, eyes glazed over by the night's events. You'd forgotten for a moment that you were trapped.

"Is it getting hot in here? I'd say it's cause of you but I don't really like this..." Eddie tried to play off his worry but you watched his chest rise and fall and remembered you were trapped and suddenly everything became more realistically grim. You pressed the emergency button once more and the kind woman insisted the fire department was on their way up now.

"Just a couple more minutes." You nodded toward Eddie. "We'll be out of here before you know it."

"Thank God." Eddie noted. "But I might just miss you, ya know?"

All of a sudden it hit you. Everything you'd been through in the past year played like a montage through your mind, leading up to this moment. You realized you hadn't been trapped so much as given a golden opportunity to ask a very important question to what seemed like the exact right person.

"Eddie..."

"Yeah?"

"I'll sign my album for you if you do something for me?"

Just then a loud scraping against the metal entrance broke your collective focus on each other. A group of firemen pushed open the elevator doors by aid of some tools, informed the pair of you had been stuck on the 17th floor, and escorted you down the stairwell asking a few questions about how everything had gone down.

When you and Eddie reached the lobby, a woman you'd recognized from the label's office came hurrying toward the pair of you. She had to be Eddie's manager.

"I think it's time we go." The woman offered you a polite smile before turning a stern gaze to Eddie. "You've already pissed off three of the four bartenders here tonight. And I'm sure you've overstayed your welcome in her presence, Munson." She eye'd you.

"Actually, he was just agreeing to meet me in my studio over the weekend." You blurted. Eddie was the best player on the scene. He was your best and maybe only hope. Eddie beamed at you, realizing that this was your barter for giving your autograph to the rockstar.

"I'd love to work together." You spoke quickly enough to result in a blush of embarrassment. You were usually good at keeping your cool. But something about Eddie made you giddy and terrified and everything else all at once. You watched as Eddie's manager nodded in contemplation.

"I know Kelsey. I'll give him a call to set up the times." She dropped your managers name and yanked Eddie away in a hurry. The rocker didn't go without flashing you a smile and a wave before stumbling off through the lobby. After that, nothing was keeping you at the party any longer, either.

///

Century City L.A. 1986 -

When Eddie breezed into your recording booth the next weekend, he was refreshingly sober; and made sure you knew how grateful he was for the invitation. He slung his guitar around his back and shook your hand and listened intently to your vision for the music you were creating.

Eddie's presence was magnifying. But differently than you'd expected. You'd seen headlines and heard rumors float about from countless greenroom groupies and stagehands. Eddie Munson had gained quite the salacious reputation within the year fame had found him. He was no stranger to romantic quarrels and quandaries, legal battles, displays of public intoxication, the whole shebang. You knew he was going to captivate you, he already had. But he was not so unruly as the press made him out to be.

Eddie was respectful, desperate to fully understand your musical vison. Eddie was kind, complimenting your work and the tracks you'd scrapped together so far. Eddie was brilliant, adding licks and riffs right away that you'd never dreamed you'd be lucky enough to have featured throughout your music. He helped you write what you hadn't finished. He made you laugh in the middle of recording and apologized profusely when you had to start over and over again.

He said he could only stay for a couple of hours. But two hours turned into two days, turned into two weeks. When it was finished, your third album, Steel & Stone, had a healthy dose of Eddie's input sprinkled throughout. It was more a collaboration than a solo record. It was fucking Beautiful. Your producers thought so too. They said your sounds married well together.

That made Eddie laugh. And then it gave him an idea.

"The album cover should be a wedding! I've got it all figured out!" He excitedly sketched out his suggestions for your albums cover; and because he was so excited, you humored the guy by scheduling a photoshoot. A week later you were cutting up an old, thrifted wedding dress in Eddie's back garden. He'd hired a fake priest and invited some friends over to fill the background.

The pair of you looked fetching, Eddie in his size too small tux. loose tie, hair pulled back. You, in a ragged old dress, pearls hanging past your torso. The photos for the album cover came out killer, you and Eddie looked like a bride and groom out of a horror show. It was perfect.

The paparazzi thought so too. Somehow, someone with a camera and a lot of guts managed to snap a bevy of photos of your make-believe wedding over the hedges of Eddies back garden.

The photos were all over the tabloids the next day, and Hollywood went berserk at the news of your presumed wedding to the rock God. You found out when your phone clattered to life at 7am the next day. You answered the line to a frantic Eddie, who was less concerned about the rumor that you two had gotten legitimately married than the fact that his privacy was so easily invaded. So, you suggested he schedule a meeting with your real estate agent to find a safer, better shielded home. And because he was too frantic to take notes, you huffed and headed over to his humble abode to help the poor boy plan.

It wasn't even twenty-four hours later that rumors the pair of you were house hunting together sparked interest alongside the blurry wedding photos. News of your alleged link to Eddie traveled fast, but your management worked faster. Forty-two hours after the gossip spread, you and Eddie were called in to address the rumor mill.

///

"Sit, both of you, and listen to our pitch in completion before you voice opinions." Eddies manager, Brooke, was stood before an oak desk, she was a sharply dressed middle aged cunning sort of a woman you respected for rising to ranks men usually dominated in the industry.

You and Eddie gave each other a look as you settled in opposite armchairs. This was going to be interesting. Your manager was sat at the head of the desk, eager to have his turn of attention.

"In the past few months, both of you have been in a little trouble with the press, no?" Kelsey began, gazing over his tinted glasses to meet your eye.

"Try the past year." Eddie huffed a laugh, sitting back. The musician really had always been linked to some salacious headlines since his rise to stardom. You were rather new to the negative press, but had done a better job beating the allegations, you thought.

Brooke slid a trio of papers across an oak desk then. One showed a collage of tabloid write ups from the past few days. Every word gushed over the supposed connection you and Eddie shared. It was an overwhelming collection of rose-colored journalism. The other two papers looked like contracts.

"We think," Brooke breathed, glancing to Kelsey, "given the immense positive reaction to your supposed wedding, that you and Eddie staying allegedly betrothed is a divine PR opportunity to push alongside the new album you're each equal parts credited to have made."

"You want us to pretend to be married?" Eddie laughed. The kind of chuckle that burst from behind his teeth, like a kid in class that couldn't help but disrupt.

"Of course we do. Just for five months, till the start of next year. Besides being a brilliant PR move to promote Steel & Stone, it could save your ass, Munson."

"What's my ass got to do with anything?" Eddie quipped.

"Edward, now is a good time to inform you that your label is threatening to drop you if you don't get your shit together before this year ends. You don't want to pass the point of no return, do you?" The news hung in the air with, menacing finality. Eddie's carless behavior was catching up with him.

"Settling down in general is a good look for you. Settling down with this world famous takes no shit rock and roll chick is even better. You both get to remain reckless, except now with morals. America just creamed their pants. The tabloids have already begun rebranding Eddie, let see what was it..." She picked up a daily newsprint to quote...

"Ah yes, 'From Don Juan to I Do, can this wild rocker finally be tamed?' Cheesy but you get the gist. This positive spotlight might be your last before you're dubbed hopeless!" Brooke tossed the newsprint in Eddies lap. He grumbled back a "Hey!"

Then Kelsey spoke up...

"Of course you're not in such hot waters," He pointed your way, "but the sooner we clear up the mess you let your last guitarist make, the better off you'll be."

"I didn't let-"

"You will sign these contracts." Kelsey boomed, jabbing his finger on the dotted line of the paper in front of you. The room went quiet as his voice rattled the walls. "We'd hate for the premier of your new album to be delayed while you remain obstinate."

"You can't do that." You stated. You worried.

"We're going to talk about this." Eddie stretched from his seat and swatted your shoulder to meet him in the hall. You followed gladly, anxious to get out of the tension filled room.

A few steps closer toward the stairwell, Eddie slowed there. "Kelsey is a scary fucker, huh?"

"A lot of information just came at us at once. I think we should-" You tried to reason as you stalled at his side.

"I don't want to delay your album." Eddie blurted; brows pressed tightly together. "I don't want you to have to lug me around for five months either." He leaned against the wall, jamming a fist in one of his many leather pockets for a cigarette.

"I won't be lugging you around, doofus." You laughed, kicking his boots with your heel. "I dunno. You do need a bit of a boost in the social department. Every girl I know has a story about you, Edward Munson."

"Yeah, I know. Got outta control on tours. But you know I've been doing better, we talked in the studio about how big of an idiot I used to be. But I'm tryin'. Apologizin' and shit! I don't want you to feel like you gotta save me. I'm working on that myself!"

"I've witnessed the progress you've made! Lita called last week to gossip and she didn't curse your name once!" You noted, dropping the name of the mutual friend and one Eddie's many ex-lovers.

"See! You don't need to be fake married to me. I'm my own personally savior. Hey, that's a good lyric..."

"Listen. If we did this, it's mostly because I'm worried about the album's release being threatened. And only a little bit because I would want to help clean your social slate and save you from being dropped from the label. So..."

"Awe, you like me enough to clean up after me? Gives me reason to keep making messes..." Eddie sing songed, breathing out smoke and shooting you a wink that made your eyes roll. You had been given a small thrill when you helped Eddie escape disaster upon your first meeting. You wouldn't mind having to look out for him for a few more months in a row.

"Look, do you want my help or not? My offer is about to be swiftly redacted!" You'd been moved to this major act of charity after spending that week in the studio, learning about the guy behind the guitar. He was much more than all those famous songs and infamous rumors and those silly rambled in the broken elevator. He was funny and smart and you liked him enough by now to consider doing this insane fucking thing. But too, there was a pit opening in your stomach that warned if you didn't do exactly as Kelsey wished, he would fuck shit up for you worse than he originally threatened.

"Okay! It seems like we're doing this. But no lugging me, got it!" Eddie sighed past his smoke, decided all of the sudden. You barely had time to process what you'd both agreed to before agreeing, but there you were.

"No lugging!" You echoed, rounding your shoulders as you slinked back into the room with the papers. You didn't like your work being held over your head. But you didn't see much harm in letting the rumors go on a little longer. You were looking at the tabloid cover story about what a perfect couple you made. All very sanguine. Why fix something that wasn't broken?

The pair of you signed on the dotted line.

That same afternoon, you were sent to pick out wedding bands. You quite admired a tiger-eye stone; but before you could ask how much it would cost, Kelsey had picked out gaudy diamond studded rings for both you and Eddie. You then realized this wasn't your relationship at all. None of this was up to you. But you'd be expected to act as if it was.

///

The Beverly Hills Hotel 1986 -

"Tell us about the wedding! Did you write your own vows?" A voice called from a pit full of reporters, each one of them as sly and insatiable as the last.

You and Eddie were sat shoulder to shoulder at the press conference meant to discuss your collaboration album that hit shelves the midnight before. And too, Eddie was meant to announce his L.A residency and you were meant to announce your upcoming tour. But you both knew your alleged wedding would be the subject on the tip of every tongue. This was it. The real test.

"I wanted to sing my vows but apparently that was too theatrical." Eddie joked, charming the room, shooting winks and stretching out smiles. What a fucking bullshitter.

"You've always been a showoff." You glanced to the man out of the corner of your eye as you spoke into your mic on the table before you. He was eating this up.

"That's right. I'm my best self in the spotlight. So now I'd like to announce for the next two months I've accepted a residency at the Roxy. One show every weekend until November. Dates will be in Rolling Stone this Monday!"

Cameras clicked and voices muddled over one another as reporters clamored to ask a million things. Your manager picked one man with a notepad out of the mix. His question was for you.

"Will you be able to enjoy a honeymoon before your husband goes back to work?"

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes,

"I'll be going to work myself. I'm touring this summer, a few dates need decided before tickets go on sale next week. We've got to promote this new album. Any questions about Steel & Stone? Any at all?"

The crowd roared louder than before. Reporters demanded to know why you and Eddie would be spending so much time apart so soon after tying the knot. Questions about the strength of your love and were directed at you like shrapnel. They wanted to know how two musicians with separate demanding schedules could maintain a happy life as a couple. They wanted to know why a honeymoon had failed to be arranged.

"If you must know, we're spending the weekend in Hawaii. Then, my wife and I will get to work promoting this very well made new album that you should all buy and review warmly!"

Oh, this motherfucker. Eddie was concerned about you lugging him around given this arrangement? Well, he never warned you about the bullshit antics he was eager to pull first shot he got a chance. You should have known better than to sign up for anything with this wildcard of a man.

To your surprise, Eddie's little joke couldn't be left to rest. By the end of the press conference Kelsey had your meetings canceled and a flight booked for Honolulu Friday morning. Shit, this was about to be a really weird year.

On the way out of the conference hall, you let Eddie kiss you on the cheek where the cameras could see before hurrying into a shared limo.

"Are you sure you wanna spend two days and three nights in Hawaii together?" You wondered, settling into the ride as it started zooming off. "You might get so sick of me we blow this whole thing."

"Relax babe, we'll be so chill beach side that we won't worry about stuff like that. Plus, why not make the most of this thing? Enjoy it!" Eddie shrugged and looked at you with a softness in his gaze. You saw a reflection of exhaustion you recognized. You both worked hard. Maybe it was time to sit back while the ride whirled on, for now.

"Plus, I'd rather play it cool with you for five more months than get sued for breaking contract." Eddie winked at you and popped open the limos complementary bottle of Champaigne.

///

New York 1988 -

"I wrote my first album at eighteen years old. Sold out Madison Square Garden by 19. Made three platinum records by 20. But Eddie gifted me the song that made my third album the nation's best seller for three months in a row. He played guitar on that track because I asked him too. He squirmed his way onto four more tracks because he was that charming. He was that good. He was one of the best guitarists I knew."

You bragged to Rolling Stone, watching her take notes and nod along, grinning past her cigarette. As she scribbled away you thought back to that time with reverence.

That invitation to play on Steel & Stone was never meant to be more than just that. An invitation for Eddie to play in your studio for a couple hours. But that invitation morphed into a lasting connection no one could have seen coming. You didn't regret that it happened. But perhaps if you hadn't let your management teams concoct such a devious plan to pair the two of you up contractually, you and Eddie would have been spared a world of hurt.

Eddie was one year younger than you but perhaps somehow even more famous. Maybe because he was a man, but probably because he was more talented. You could write, you could sing. But so could Eddie. He wrote and sang and played guitar and bass and drums and was a wizard behind any sound booth. A musician's musician through and through. It's something you admired about him.

But Eddie, like yourself, was a rockstar. He was reckless and late and messy and incorrigible. When the pair of you really got going, you'd bicker like bitches. When you were forced to make appearances together, the bantering made the tabloids. And apparently, sold records too. You'd seen the numbers yourself. Associating with Eddie was good for your career, back then. And vice versa.

"Next question."

///

Hawaii 1986 -

Brooke handled booking your fake honeymoon, thank God. She actually asked where you'd like to stay, how you'd like to spend your false vacation. You fantasized about a tiny little bungalow with shops nearby enough to walk to and days free of any plans.

After your plane landed and your cab ride stopped, you were left standing before the cottage of your dreams. Behind a wooden picket fence was a green home with wide windows, cozy and inviting. You hurried up the porch steps, dragging your suitcase as fast as the heavy thing would follow.

Inside was warm and homey as you could have imagined, big comfy furniture cluttered around a fireplace. A square kitchen with walls full of cabinets, plants on the large stretched out windowsills, a staircase that led to just three bedrooms. The lack of extravagance made you realize you didn't feel at home at all in your ridiculous Hollywood estate. There was more space in that home than you could fill with money or good intention. But this quiet and calm seaside bungalow would break your heart to leave, you already knew.

"Look, they already stocked the fridge," Eddie laughed behind where you admired the homes decor. "Benefits of super stardom I suppose." You turned to meet him where he stood when something else caught your eye.

"Brooke left a note." You realized, finding her scrawl on the kitchen island.

'The next three days are mostly yours to do what you please. But you must be seen out together at least once a day, given the rules of your contract. There are a row of shops a few minutes west of here and there are dinner reservations at the cities most renowned restaurant on your last night. The details and address is at the bottom of this note.'

"Right." You laughed. "It's 'our time to do as we please,' so long as we follow their rules."

"And that's the drawback of super stardom." Eddie pointed, bending to pick up both of your bags, heading toward the stairs. He announced that he'd leave your stuff in the bigger room, assuming there would be one. You announced a thanks for his chivalry and roamed toward the patio doors that opened to a private pool. Past the little garden area was the most spectacular view of the ocean, the roar of the waves providing glorious white noise.

"So... what do we do now?" You called out to your weekend roommate who you lost amongst the floor plan. You thought he was still upstairs. But as you shut the patio doors, Eddie appeared in the doorway of the kitchen with a guitar case in hand.

"Wanna write?"

So with the sun setting and nothing better to do, you sat across from Eddie on opposite ends of the cozy living space and hummed along as he made up chords for what felt like forever. Neither of you spoke much, only letting your craft occupy the time.

How funny this was, in a weird sort of way. When you met Eddie, it wasn't like you were meeting at all. It was as if you'd always known each other. Banter wasn't just easy with him, it was natural. But now, once the pair of you had been left completely alone, the silence between the pair of you was full of tension. He'd look past his curly fringe every once in a while, to shoot you a grin when he liked a melody you came up with. And you'd ask him to show you a tab or two. What happened to the effortless chatter? Why was there a buzzing in your chest in his presence, all of a sudden? It was time to get up, it had to be dinner time now.

You expected the counter space to be full of liquor, as food and drink of all kinds had been stocked. But not a single adult beverage was in your line of sight. You opened a couple of cabinets until you finally found a single bottle of cabernet. Your favorite brand too, thank God.

"I'm making pasta and opening some wine. Do you want a glass?" You called out, knowing Eddie was still one room away.

"No, no." He sighed. "I really shouldn't."

"Shouldn't you? We're supposed to be relaxing and indulging!" You teased, still only getting one glass down from the open-faced cupboard.

"I kind of just got out of rehab." He called back. The news was a shock to you, since you'd met him blindingly drunk, and he hadn't left town since you'd made his acquaintance.

"Oh?"

You listened to the clatter of Eddie's instrument into its case as you found ingredients for your planned meal. His presence in the room was made soon after.

"Went to rehab. Two months. Told everyone I was recording, managed to put out Chains of Sorrow in a reasonable amount of time to make the fans believe I'd been in the studio all that time. I've been doing better." Eddie explained. The solo track he referenced came out four months before you'd met him. You asked if it bothered him that you were drinking now and he gave you a stern no.

"You've been doing better. But not always sober?" You daringly quizzed, Watching the man you fake married move from the far end of the kitchen, closer toward you.

"Recovering, not completely recovered." He grinned, leaning against the marble island. "Call it what you'd like. I've gotten good at only getting smashed at parties and saying no everything other time."

"And how many parties have you been to?" You smiled, casting the guy a suspicious glance.

"Can I help you with dinner?" He chuckled, shaking his head to your previous question. You considered the guy before you, his loosely buttoned cutoff flannel, the flutter of his eyes.

"Come, I'll show you how to make my special spaghetti sauce." You laughed. Eddie smiled in response but did not move per your request. He stood and took a hissing breath in before meeting your gaze to say,

"Before we stray too far from the topic... I have a terrible confession."

You stared at the guy, eyes flickering from his withheld grin to the tattoos on his arms.

"I don't remember meeting you at all. When my manager told me I planned to crash your studio I was so embarrassed. Did I make a complete fool of myself that night?"

"You would have if I didn't help you outrun an angry bartender. And you did ask for my autograph. Like three times. But I got us stuck in an elevator." You chuckled, handing Eddie a knife and placing a trio of tomatoes before him.

"Oh... my God."

"I promised to sign my first record, but you never brought it to the studio... I guess because you didn't remember." You pieced together, setting out other ingredients to add to your sauce as the pasta boiled on the stove. The realization that Eddie had blacked out during your first adventure together selfishly stung. You were left to carry the fond memory all alone. Left to wonder what else he may forget in the future, left to wonder why that might matter much at all to you.

"Alright, I'm going to be perfectly suave on this trip. No more being completely stupid." Eddie grinned and proceeded to follow your instructions on making dinner. The pair of you went on to laugh and cook and talk about Hollywood gossip until midnight.

When it was time for bed, Eddie followed you up the stairs. He went down one hall and you went down another, but not before casting a glance over your shoulder to find Eddie was looking back too.

///

The sun was especially warm the next morning, the rays soothing your skin from the window before the light opened your eyes.

You rose with an anxious glee, excited to find where the day would take you, but nervous all the same. Ever since ending up in this predicament with Eddie, his company made your heartbeat a little heavier. Your connection was an amusement ride, an adventure, an experience.

When you padded out into the main room, you found the patio doors wide open. Your eyes followed a set of footprints in the sand that belonged to Eddie, who was milling about the shore, looking for shells. You smiled to yourself and went about making some coffee, watching the man from the comfort of shelter.

After your morning cuppa and a little nourishment, Eddie popped his head in the doorway.

"Hey!" He called. His curls were dripping sea water onto the hardwood, his chest rising and falling quickly. Did he run up here?

"You're getting the doorway all wet!"

"Come out here with me! The waves are beautiful."

"The ocean freaks me out, Eddie!" You revealed. Would have sooner if his declaration about going to Hawaii wasn't so sudden and so public.

"Awe man!" He rang like a disgruntled grade schooler. "Well at least come walk the shore with me. We have to be seen together, remember?"

There were resorts and shops easily seen to the west of your private beach front. There were surly paps and press waiting nearby to score shots of you and Eddie after his announcement about coming to stay here.

"Ugh, okay." You huffed, declaring something about finding your bikini. You and Eddie had signed a contract. And there was one clear rule. Be seen together as much as possible.

You found Eddie on the shoreline again and trekked to meet him. He smiled at you and asked once more if you'd join him in the sea. The waves were roaring, and the vastness of the water sent a chill down your spine. Your hesitation was answer enough for Eddie, who shrugged and nodded and started walking along the sea's edge, holding out his hand for you to join him.

He let you keep hold of him as the pair of you meandered along the shore, a little closer toward the resorts in the distance. Your ever dancing nerves fell away as the pair of you talked about space and time and the existence of mythical creatures. And at the end of your fantastical conversation Eddie went quiet, letting his deep eyes search your face.

"Should I kiss you? Ya know, in case someone is watching?" He asked matter of factly, stalling in the sunlight that sparkled through his glittering sand sprinkled curls.

"What if no one is watching?" You countered, daring to reach out and loop one of your fingers around Eddies, holding on. The guy simply shrugged, keeping his eyes locked on yours. Considering the rules, you were meant to follow, you let a small nod tilt your chin. Eddie watched you come to a positive conclusion and took his sweet time leaning in. Eddie stalled for a moment, letting his breath fam across your lips, and you thought that was curious. For a kiss just meant for show, he was sure being timid.

"Eddie, you don't have to kiss me if you don't want too." You chuckled only to lighten the tension. He grinned in response, letting his dark eyes dart across your features.

"That's the problem, babe." He rose a brow. "I really want to. More than I ought to."

That made you pause and consider this whole crazy thing. You thought of how you got into this predicament and how Eddie was looking at you now, and the billions of things you wanted to say. In the time you stayed quiet and full of consideration for how to move on, Eddie became too antsy to let you say more at all.

"Should we go back in?"

"No," You shook your head. "No let's enjoy the weather." You assured, reaching a handout to brush Eddie' bicep as if to reassure him. So that's just what you did. You kicked about, dodged waves that came to close to the shore, and baked in the sun until it started to lower from its highest point in the sky.

After running in, washing up, and realizing there was still so much time left to waste, you talked Eddie into going out. You asked him to put on something nice and call a cab to drop the pair of you off at a local place by the sea.

Per the suggestion of the local driver, you and Eddie ended up at a quaint little outdoor eatery. The staff was so delighted by your surprise appearance that they invited you and Eddie to skip the line, sat you at their alleged best table, and poured you each a complimentary glass of champagne.

You tried to wave the waiter off, to dismiss them from giving Eddie the glass of sparkling wine.

"S'okay. Don't wanna be rude." Eddie insisted, taking a small sip out of obligation. You rose a brow and sat back and decided it was a night out. Eddie had said he was doing better. You chose to believe him and placed your order for the night.

"So," You spoke. "Should we come up with an elaborate backstory? Some swoon worthy anecdote about how you asked me to be your wife? A sickly sweet first date memory?"

"I think the story we have is suitable enough. You stopped me from making a fool of myself at a party, let me play on your badass new album, and I fell head over heels." Eddie laughed, but despite himself, it seemed. He breathed out a small sigh as he settled his elbows on the table. It seemed he was trying to say more.

"Everything okay, dear?" You emphasized the pet name to poke fun at your situation. You watched as the well-dressed man chewed his lip in contemplation.

"This whole thing... are you sure you're okay with it?" You knew what he meant.

"Yeah, I mean, it's not hurting us, is it? It's helping you out of the hole you're in with the label and it's selling our album. I never thought I'd be married for real but, this isn't so bad."

"What are you talking about? Everyone loves you. " He pointed, sitting up a little straighter.

"Everyone loves my persona." You pointed, lifting a finger as Eddie rose a brow. "Everyone loves my music. Loving me, is another story. Loving me is personal. I can't imagine letting anyone in that vulnerably, anymore."

"Oh, anymore?" Eddie quipped, sitting back as the waiter brought complimentary appetizers. You were going to refrain from drinking to make Eddie feel more comfortable, but at the turn of topics, you reached for the glass to calm the jitters.

"You know how I needed a someone to play guitar on my album?" You recalled. Eddie nodded, obviously. "Well, that's because I let my last guitarist get to know me a little too well."

You downed your champagne and was delighted when a staff member dropped another off right on cue.

"Go on, please..." Eddie motioned with a fork, taking a bite of food and staring at you with curious intensity.

"Well I'm sure you've heard the rumors." You shrugged.

"I have." Eddie carefully admitted. "But I always figured they were nothing more than just rumors. I do want to hear your side of the story..."

"My last guitarist and I had a fling. And right when I started to think I loved him... well it just didn't work out. So after the breakup, this motherfuker went around telling every studio musician that the only way they could play on my album was in exchange for sex. He said that was the price he had to pay. As if we hadn't been dating." You began with a scoff. "He took it further by telling the press I slept my way to the top. Probably because I wasn't giving him the time of day near then end and he was bitter that I'd been with so many others who are far more relevant than he'll ever be."

You reveled to Eddie some of the more horrific details of your last disastrous relationship and how it ended, because he asked. Eddie seemed to genuinely listen to the details you gave. Eddie took a few more sips of champagne.

"Fuck that dude to the moon and back. You didn't tell me I had the shoes of an asshole to fill!" Eddie grumbled past his mouth full of food.

"That's because I didn't want you filling his shoes. I like your shoes. I like you. And I'm grateful you played on my album and that crazy as it is, that we're in this fucked up situation together."

"This just... isn't how I wanted things to be with you."

"Oh?" You wondered, taking a hesitant bite of the dinner that had just been delivered.

"I mean... the whole thing with the contract and the lie. I thought I could ask you out for a nice dinner, like a normal date. I feel shitty about having trapped you in some kind of publicity stunt."

"You wanted to take me out for real?" You grinned, settling into your posture.

"I did. But now it's this whole circus and it's so disingenuous. I don't want you to think I'm getting to know you because I'm contractually obligated."

"You're a sweetheart, you know that?" You smiled. Eddie smiled back, and seemed to wait for you to speak further, but you had nothing more to say, you couldn't have any more to say. You planned to keep your heart on lock down. You planned to remain closed off. Being open and willing with others had only resulted in heartache in the past, in this industry. And you couldn't imagine that with Eddie. You wanted to enjoy your time with Eddie.

"I'm not willing to let my guard down for you, Eddie. But we can make the most of our circumstance, if you really want."

"What do you mean?" He puzzled, brow furrowed.

"Ask me again back at the house." You shrugged and smiled and sipped more champagne.

Dinner went on between bits of conversation that grew deeper each sentence. Eddie revealed childhood traumas. You voiced secrete fears about your career. The pair of you laughed hard over old jokes you'd heard on TV specials and picked four albums each you'd bring on deserted islands. You each finished one more glass of champagne.

Hawaii was stunning, even at night. You wondered if Eddie made the comment knowing how lovely it was here, if he needed such a rejuvenating get away. He seemed less at ease as the evening went on, however, chewing at his lip and wringing his hands the whole ride home. You hoped you plans for tonight would change that... but he had to ask you that question again.

///

Back at the house you stood, squinting to see the midnight waves from the patio doorway. Relishing their sounds, the crash of the ocean, the breeze through the windchimes near the pool. This was proving to be a very relaxing getaway indeed. You could get used to Eddies ideas. He was off up the stairs, getting ready to call it an evening you presumed. But then he appeared in his swim trunks, headed straight for the hot tub on the patio. He announced his intentions and halfheartedly invited you to join.

How curious, you thought, Eddie was so magnetic, but every time the pair of you became secluded in this home, he seemed to hide a bit of himself away all the same. You understood it, of course. Youd just admitted to doing the very same. But the pair of you had been more than open with each other by now. What had him so aloof here?

You shrugged, and spun to put on a record while concocting a plan. Of course you were banking on Eddie bringing up the question you once reminded him too, but a little nudge wouldn't hurt. After picking a Chet Baker album to spin, you decidedly flounced over toward the hot tub, watching Eddie rest there with his gaze locked on you.

"You're supposed to join me, remember?" He called, sinking a little lower beneath the bubbling waters. You watching his dark eyes fix on yours, and made your decision.

"If you insist." You smiled. The silky dress you'd worn to dinner would surely be ruined by the chemically enhanced waters. So, you slipped it off right there on the patio and hurried to the hot tub in undergarments that were just as good as any bikini.

"Happy now?" You rang, sinking so far below the water that only your eyes floated above the surface, locking on to Eddies still intensely held gaze.

"Delighted in the throes of post false marital bliss." Eddie laughed, a breathy sound he seemed to have to force a little. His eyes tore away from yours, looking for a distraction. "Shame they gave us the rings you don't like, though." He held a hand up from the bubbles to consider his diamond studded band. Yours matched because it had too.

"The rings are ugly. But we've made it work well so far I think. Haven't been this sure of a relationship since Steve Vai, you know?" It was a joke, but it was not. You'd loved your time with Steve. It was your most renowned relationship in the eyes of the press and all your friends to date. And though this time with Eddie was a sham, the connection you had to him felt frighteningly natural.

"Fuckin' Vai. Why'd you guys break up anyway? Seemed good together."

"Steve got back with his college girlfriend around the same time I opened for Metallica. Kirk swept me off my feet."

"You and Kirk? So that really happened." Eddie gapped at you with a grin. You'd kept that relationship on the down low, though a few good paparazzi photos tried to test the limits of the connection you'd had with the metal guitarist. He broke your fucking heart, ending things when that tour was said and done.

"I have a type, it seems. Dark haired dreamy eyed guitarists." The one before you now was the most intriguing of them all. And he knew it too. He had too. The way his eyes locked on yours changed. The way silence fell between the pair of you rang loud with anticipation, no matter who might speak next.

"What did you mean earlier?" Eddie finally wondered.

"When I said we could make the most of this, if you wanted?" You grinned, staying put for a beat longer in the spot you'd been floating. What you were about to suggest would either make or break the next five months you were meant to endure together. You sincerely hoped it would land well. You watched Eddie nod for you to continue.

"Well, I simply won't allow myself to fall in love with you." You prefaced, inching closer. It was easy to move through the water, stalling centimeters away from the man who shared the space with you. You could feel the heat radiating from Eddies form- even though the warmth of the bubbling water. "But I wouldn't mind enjoying the benefits of having a partner, even if we're just playing pretend." You dared to glide flush against the rockstar, resting each of your knees on either side of his lap with calculated caution. A set of his fingers brushed against your thigh in an instant, but that could have been a reflex. You needed a yes or no.

"Wanna have fun while this is meant to last?" You asked in a hush, your fingers resting gently on Eddies broad shoulders. His other hand came to rest on your hip. His faltered smirk gave you confidence to lean in for a kiss no one could see.

He kissed you back, lips timidly locked against yours, muscles tense under your fingers. But after a couple more careful pecks, his passion grew. Eddies lips parted against yours, and a sigh escaped his lips. You had him right where you wanted him. He grabbed you, nails dug into your hips, teeth piercing against your neck.

You had no fear raking your fingers through his curls to claw at the roots of his hair, maneuvering him to kiss your lips again. Eddie did so intensely, tongue jammed down your throat. His grip pulling you closer, his hips jutting up against yours. You couldn't wait much longer to go all the way, body language suggesting that's how far the pair of you would take this, it seemed.

Eddie whined a curse as your hand slipped below his waist band, kissing hard as ever. He let his fingers drift across your form until he reached the hem on your underwear, yanking them to the side. Before you knew it you were sliding into his lap as he pushed completely into you. Eddies fingers bruised against your hips and your nails dug into the back of his neck. You both rocked together, slack jawed and doe eyed, gazes fastened.

When your efforts were exhausted and passions simmered, Eddie moved your underwear back, and fixed his shorts all the same. He let his lips press against your forehead, leaving a couple gentle pecks there. He let his fingers brush against your face, cradling  your cheek as his eyes fluttered to land on yours.

"That was amazing." Eddie stressed all the right syllables. "But please... never fucking do that again."

You were too stunned to respond. Frozen now in complete confusion. Luckily, he had more to say.

"If you won't let me really love you, I can't do what we just did again. Because I'm already dangerously close to really loving you. And it would suck to have my feelings fucked around with. I understand if you aren't willing to open up. But please understand that's where we're very different." Eddie chose his words carefully and watched your eyes as he explained himself.

"O- okay." You managed to nod. "Yeah, I hear you." It was a reasonable explanation, an understandable stance. But you felt that familiar pit opened up inside you while he spoke. And it felt more empty and hollow than ever.

Despite that, you tried to cling to the fact that you'd just had the pleasure of shagging the guy, and how divine it was to feel him pull you closer the whole time. You reveled in Eddie's kindness as he helped you out of the hot tub. He guided you inside and upstairs and insisted you be the first to use the one shared bathroom. You knew this was going to be a weird year. But it kept getting weirder.

///

The next morning, you woke just before the sun. With quiet steps, you readied yourself in the loo and headed downstairs, out the door. Desperate for the freedom of normalcy, you started walking in the direction of the shops Brooke had left directions too. After a couple blocks, a variety of bodegas came into view. There were hardly any cars or bikes on the street, and only a few pedestrians popping from one shop to the next.

This was perfect. If there was any commotion over your presence here, it would likely be very minimal. A stall selling fresh fruit and veg was being opened by an older gentleman as you admired a cart full of flowers a foot away. Some store fronts were still closed as the early morning was still new. But the handful you slinked in and out of were open and occupied by people who were more or less unphased by you. A few whispers and pointed fingers among friends, and stares and smiles from clerks was perfectly tolerable. You offered them smiles and waves as you admired locally made clothes and lotions and oils.

But men with cameras waited outside, word spreading fast that you'd made your way into town. There weren't many photographers, thank God, maybe five. And they were respectful as could be, calling your name and welcoming you to the island. You gave them rushed acknowledgement and waved them off when they demanded to know where Eddie was. They didn't need to know he was sleeping soundly in the spare room of your shared bungalow. But they could watch as you decided to buy fresh produce from the little local man at the edge of the hamlet. A nice big breakfast sounded nice.

As you thanked the vendor and made your way to head home, the men with cameras began to follow your footsteps. You dreaded having to beg them away. But this time, you didn't have to. The vendor who'd sold you a canvas bag full of produce shouted ardently enough to get the paparazzi to stay back and let you be on your way. You knew you'd love it here. You knew it would be hard to go back to L.A. but you didn't have to yet. The only thing on your agenda was to make breakfast.

Eddie was already in the kitchen when you'd walked back. You could tell from the sound of a mug rattling against the counterspace and the drip of the coffee machine. He rolled his shoulders to adjust to the morning as you carried your fresh food into the little room.

"I popped to the shops! It was sort of nice. There were only a few paps out."

"Did they bother you?" Eddie seemed to worry, locking a puzzled gaze on you before peeking in on what groceries you brought home.

"Almost. But a nice older shop owner shooed them off from following me home. I really like it here." You lamented, not taking a single moment for granted. Soaking up the sights and sounds of the kitchen as you opened the white chipped cupboards, catching glances of the ocean out the window. You announced your intentions to make breakfast and Eddie hummed past his coffee. He stayed quiet afterward, lingering as you mucked about with pots and cutting boards.

The room was full of quiet tension again. Not like something ominous was near happening. Just the weight of the obvious being unspoken. You knew Eddie liked you more than he should. And you both knew you couldn't let yourself feel the same. Knowing all this, you went on slicing tomatoes. And turning on the radio. And switching stations when one of your songs came on.

The rest of the trip was spent in quiet; shared meals and movie marathons on one particular rainy afternoon. Small conversations and one last wordless jam session.

You were really going to miss it here.

///

L.A. 1986 -

It was Eddie's debuted at the Roxy, the first of a string of already sold-out shows. He asked you to perform with him to kick things off.

Backstage, you hesitantly watched his bandmates pour him several shots. You helped him decide what to wear and let him give you a sloppy kiss in front of a reporter. His tongue jammed toward your throat, his hands splayed against your hips, and he continued even after the snaps from the camera ended. Then, when the room got a little quieter, and when you were starting to lose feeling in your lips, Eddie pulled away and murmured something in your ear.

"Felt like a real kiss. Wish it was. Wish you'd really wanna be my girl." His words slurred. He was clearly already inebriated. But it wasn't like he was wasted. The words shot a thousand feelings from your heart into your nervous system, anger being the most immediately powerful. You shoved the man's shoulders to loosen his grasp on you, his face fell. The reporter's camera started clicking again.

"You're pushing your luck." You warned. He was trying to get a rise out of you, right? He was trying to get you to cause a scene for the photographer to capture, right? He was whiskey talking, right? He said your name and tried to reach for you as you blocked his advances.

"Go toward the stage." You demanded, turning the musician by the shoulders in the right direction. He protested for you to listen, but you couldn't do this right now. You couldn't imagine doing this ever. He knew you couldn't let yourself go there.

"Shut the hell up Eddie. You've got a show to put on. I'll meet you out there. Son of a bitch." You whined, shoving the musician toward the side stage as he tried to get you to wait up. But he was being introduced and the cheers from the crowd called the man to saunter toward the mic center stage.

Why the fuck did he say all that? You couldn't stop playing it over and over in your head. Why did it make your heart stop a little? You stole the bottle of whiskey from a stagehand and went to shake out your jitters in his dressing room. You had three songs until you would share the mic with Eddie. That gave you time for a drink and a half, a few vocal warmups, and a sudden costume change into suede platforms that made your toes a little less constricted.

Just as you stomped into your last boot, a stage hand came rushing over, stealing back the bottle of whiskey and pulling you toward the stage. You stormed into the spotlight where you met Eddie, playing a riff that a steady drumbeat accompanied. He started singing, staring right at you while you added harmonies you could barely hear over the cheers from the crowd. It was the single from Steel & Stone. It was a packed house, audience from stage to sidewalk outside the entry. An Eddie sized crowd. He deserved bigger yet, you thought.

The pair of you stared each other down throughout the next couple songs, and you danced next to the bass player when Eddie broke into a few guitar solos. When the last song you were meant to share ended, you bowed, thanking the people in the front row. But Eddie spoke into the mic.

"Baby, baby, wait don't leave." He sing-songed, stopping your exit with a breathy plea. "No, not yet. She's about to leave for three months ya'll." Eddie addressed the audience who awed in commiseration. The fuck was this about? A public display of sorrow so the nearest magazine reporter could write in that Eddie seemed to really adore his wife in the middle of the review for this show?

"Why don't you sing one more song. Just you. Just for me. Before you go." Eddie looked at you, his voice echoing from the stage to the back of the venue. The crowd applauded the idea and you paused in consideration. You rarely passed up the opportunity to preform, but this was Eddies' show. You decided since he was giving you puppy dog eyes, and a room full of a few hundred were chanting for you to do it, you would.

"Okay but it's gonna be one of your songs, got it? You gotta come see me on tour if you want one of mine." You took the mic, and as he stepped away Eddie smiled and said "Deal."

You picked your favorite Corroded Coffin number and the band behind you knew exactly where to jump in almost right away. Eddies music was heavy and hard to sing, but you'd gotten pretty good at it, putting on fake concerts on the patio of that little Hawaiian bungalow.

You sang your heart out, you sang for Eddie like he'd asked. He played toward the left of the stage, mesmerized by your every move. The number ended with the thrash of a few cymbals and the crowd going wild. As you backed away from the mic, Eddie came toward you. You met him halfway, planted a kiss on his lips for show, but also partly for revenge's sake. You hoped the gesture would leave him as frustratedly guessing as his left you.

///

LAX 1986 -

"We land in Ireland, I'll play two shows. Then it's Glasgow, Manchester, London, and then France. You're coming to Paris, right?" You listed off the first half of your European leg as Eddie matched the pace you set; a steady march down the tarmac of the airport. He had an arm tossed over your shoulder for show, and his head bent in to hear you better as you spoke up past the roar of the jet you approached. Beyond the aircraft were a roped off coral of press and fans who'd gathered to see you off. Their shouts didn't make conversation any easier. But their smiles when you offered a gentle wave settled the usual despair in the pit of your stomach.

"Yes, three weeks from today, I'll be seeing you again in the most romantic city of all." Eddie grinned as you stalled to face him. 

"I hope your Roxy gigs stay sold out. You can call me to brag about em if you'd like." You smiled up to the guy, admiring his hair that moved with the gentle morning breeze. You'd miss his companionship. You'd grown quite fond of having a friend nearby, despite being almost strictly business partners. That's all this was, you reminded yourself.

"I'll take you up on that offer. You better call me at least when you make it safely overseas. And anytime at all, if you want." Eddie grinned at the same time he let a hand smooth the back of your hair. His fingers settled loosely at the base of your neck to pull you close for a kiss to the forehead, for show, you reckoned. Eddie insisted on walking you onboard the flight and you took the time to introduce him to the band you'd be traveling with. 

Izzy, the bassist, had only ever played on Neil Young's tours. The guy was excited for a change of pace, touring with you. Ambrose the guitarist was new to the scene but a damn fine player. He'd seemed to keep almost totally to himself. Your drummer was called Zed. He asked Eddie for a spare cigarette and informed you he'd brought snacks for the plane ride. Everyone was nice enough, but your nerves stood on end when you realized you were about to be far from home with a bunch of practical strangers and your vile ass manager to boot.

"I'll call you right when we land." You nodded to Eddie, who lingered near the exit of the jet. But it was less because he'd asked you to call, and more now because you knew you'd be a little desperate to hear a familiar voice as soon as you'd be able too. But Eddie didn't need to know that. 

///

Ireland was beautiful. You hadn't quiet found a friend in any of your new band mates by then. But since Kelsey was busy managing a whole new team of people, his pressures never quiet landed on you, those first few days. You knew the steps to take around that maniac of a man. What to say and withhold to keep from setting the manager off. So, things seemed to be going well.

You told Eddie as much when you rang him the next three nights in a row, and laughed as he told you a story of his recent invitation to lunch with the Osbornes. Eddie had a newer, wilder story every night. And you swore you slept better when he wished you well at the end of every chat.

You were hopeful for this tour. The first few shows flew by with ease. You'd hardly had many kinks to work out with the new band. You were able to keep to yourself. You were treated like royalty by every villa foreman, wait staff member and venue manager.

But on the ride from Manchester to London, something shifted. You wanted to blame the dreary weather. You wanted to blame end of the fortnight fatigue. But a gnawing deep in the pit of your core warned you that something was simply not right. You mulled over telling Eddie. Calling him to ask if he thought you might be going crazy. If he believed in the power of premonitions. You didn't feel like you could ask that same question to Ambrose or Izzy. They'd hardly given you the time of day, off stage. Maybe you'd try with Zed, who'd offered you countless snacks and played a couple heated rounds of eye spy with you from city to city. But what if your desire for a deeper connection scared off the one potential friend you had in your drummer? What if asking Eddie if he thought you were going crazy made him realize you probably were, and he couldn't even pretend to be your friend anymore, let alone your lover? Why were you letting yourself care?

"Practicing telekinesis?" Zed interrupted your internal downward spiral by plopping down at your side on the aisle seat of the plane. "You've been staring a hole through this page of Rolling Stone for at least a half hour."

"Oh, hi." You huffed a laugh, shutting the magazine you'd forgotten was open in your lap. "Just thinking." You sighed, settling deeper into your chair. 

"Don't let Kelsey know." Zed scoffed. "It's his ideas or nothing around here isn't it? Why does he have to kill the vibe so bad?" 

"I hope he isn't starting his bullshit already. This tour has been fine! He just has this sick desire for things to go his way, whether they're going well or not."

"We're in for a looong tour, then, huh?" Zed rolled his eyes and stole the magazine you'd shut. Whether or not anyone around you believed in the power of intuition, you knew something bad was coming.

///

The phone line buzzed and buzzed. Almost to the same beat as a drip of rainwater from your balcony doorway. The streets of London sounded frenzied even from far off. You were about to let out your held breath and hang up when someone finally answered.

"Hellooooo?" A high pitched greeting came across the other line. Certainly not the tone you'd been expecting to hear. Another wave of trepidation dawned in your gut. But instead of admitting to yourself that much, you decided to match the girl's inflection. 

"Hiiii." You wickedly grinned, hoping what you said next would wash the girl over with the same unease. "This is Eddie's wife. I'm sure he has a minute to spare."

"Oh." The girls pitch shifted immediately as the receiver became muffled. Only seconds passed before the person you were calling finally picked up. 

"You just scared the shit out of her." Eddie chuckled. "It's not funny but it's... it's a little funny."

"I'm cracking up." You rolled your eyes. "Listen is there any way you can book a flight a day early for Paris?"

"Nice to hear from you too. Geeze, what's got you sounding so serious and scary?" 

"This tour!" You snapped, but followed with a groan. "I'm sorry I just- I need a night off or something." 

"I hear you." Eddie seemed to understand. "I'm sure I can catch a flight for tomorrow. What's the occasion?" 

"Kelsey is booking a couple press things and demanding I get you to be a part of some of them." You twisted the phone cord around your index finger and rolled your eyes again, imagining the girl that answered the phone throwing herself back into Eddie's bed. 

"Yeah, Brooke can make anything happen. I'll have her get me out there by tomorrow night. Plus the press keeps doing us wonders. You've seen last weeks write ups, calling you and me rock and roll royalty, right?" Eddie smiled; you could hear it in his voice.

"Yeah," You began. "And we've all seen this morning's Star headline. How is making out with three different girls in front of the entire Rainbow Room supposed to keep you and me a happy couple in the headlines? You gotta be more careful Eddie." You ranted, more pissed than you ought to have been about other women taking up Eddie's time and space. 

"Wait, last night- that's a headline?" Eddie's tone sounded grave. "Shit. I- I'm sorry. I was drinking and..."

"Forgot." You realized, finishing his sentence. "So should I call your babysitter Brooke instead? Should I expect you not to remember this conversation?"

"Listen I don't know what's got you so agitated over there. But can you not take it out on me? I will see you tomorrow. And I will figure out a way to convince the press there are no issues. I can clean up my own messes, remember?" 

"Got it. Sorry. Bye." You finalized, slamming the phone down with a heavy exhale. Right on cue, Kelsey was in your doorway, yelling about how you were going to be late to sound check if you weren't standing up and running toward the limo right then and there. You were thirty minutes ahead of schedule. But still somehow, your manager threatened to grab ahold of you if you weren't speed walking ahead of him in the next ten seconds.

Zed and Izzy appeared, rushing ahead of the rest of the band, cursing at Kelsey, demanding he lay off. But you're already hurrying to shut up his rage.

///

France 1986 -

After a break of dawn radio interview, Kelsey rushed you along to a high-end cafe where supposedly a reporter from Europe's most renowned pop culture magazine was waiting for a one on one with you. Your manager certainly knew his was around keeping you relevant but didn't seem to care if his efforts exhausted you or not. You blinked away thoughts of a nap, straightened the ripped-up suit jacket you wore over tights, and struggled not to stop in your tracks when you glanced up to a booth to find Eddie there.

He looked sleepy as you, hair all mused, ripped up Led Zeppelin tee straining against his fit figure. Eddie said he'd make it, you weren't shocked he had. But you were alarmed, more or less, by how he lit up when he saw you. And how at ease that made your entire being feel. Wishes of nap time and bubble bath breaks didn't seem as pressing any longer. You were relaxed in Eddies presence, and he hadn't even said hello. And that really freaked you out. You needed to get a fucking grip.

Brooke popped into frame too, walking up to great you with a smile and a hug. She complimented your makeup and turned to inform Kelsey the reporter was on her way inside. You gravitated toward the man waiting in the raised up booth, grinning as he smiled broadly your way. 

"I told you I'd make it in time." Eddie sing songed, holding out an arm as you slid in the booth at his side. The guy pressed his ring clad hand to one side of your head and his lips to the other.

"Thank you." You rose a brow and nodded his way. "We're being interviewed together it seems. I'm sure our managers arranged this for a reason. I'm sure they'll ask about those photos with the girls you were out with. Should we get our story straight?"

"I think I have the right words ready. Anyway, since this whole thing is based on a lie, I think it's best we stay as honest as possible about everything else... avoid digging ourselves into too deep a hole." Eddie reasoned. 

"Well, it's not totally based on a lie, it's not like-" You began to argue back, a little too desperate to mention that you liked Eddie enough to agree to this whole crazy thing with him. You couldn't have imagined being falsely married to anyone else. But Kelsey interrupted you, waving a warning that the reporter was walking in, alerting you to be on your best behavior. God he was becoming more unbearable as the days dragged on. 

The reporter was an older woman, dressed drabber than you would've expected. She chain smoked as you and Eddie shared a diet soda and answered her questions with easy smiles.

"How is the tour going for you?" She pointed, locking her tired eyes with yours while you droned on about the professionalism of your bandmates and the electricity of your fan base and how much more connected to them you felt on the road.

"It's so much easier to get to know people when I'm playing for them, watching them sing along, meeting them after each show." You said. 

"It seems that's a factor you reap the rewards of as well, Mr. Munson. You're aware that photos of you romancing a couple of fans have been spread across every major tabloid, no?"

Between the reporter's question, and Eddies deep breath in, you felt Kelsey's gaze like a dagger. And your mouth started moving before your brain stopped you otherwise. 

"Of course he's aware.  This is the lifestyle we each chose." You hurried to end this part of the conversation you'd been dreading.

"So, is that to say you've had these same sort of affairs?"

"That's to say that Eddie and I are happily married to each other. What happens with anyone else is irrelevant to us and should be irrelevant to the rest of the world as well."

You hoped your answer would put an end to this segment of questions as you firmly glanced to  Eddie, who sat clenching his jaw. He feigned a smile right on queue, when the next question targeted his way was about how his shows were going. The interview didn't last much longer before a photographer was introduced. The man led you and Eddie toward the back garden of the cafe where you posed for a shockingly small amount of photos for the magazines cover. Eddie kept his bejeweled fingers curled at your side as you settled in his lap. You gazed down at him and searched his dark eyes, hoping he was less mad at you than he obviously was just moments ago. If he was, he played it off well, planting a kiss on your cheek as you looked back toward the flashing camera. 

When the people from the magazine shook your hands and headed to leave, Kelsey bought lunch for you, Eddie and Brooke. When the managers when inside to order, Eddie pulled out a cigarette and slouched in the chair you rose from, suddenly desperate to get off his lap.

"Why did you speak for me? I was ready to own up to that shit. I was ready to say all the right things." Eddie waved a hand and let his head hang back as he breathed out smoke.

"And I'm sure you would have. But the world doesn't care about why a man cheats on his woman. They care about how the woman feels about it. And so long as they know I don't give a shit then we stay happily married. Isn't that the point of all of this? To stay happy and get this all over with as soon as possible?" You paced as you answered, stalling with a sigh at Eddies side. But you weren't done rambling...

"Can we just forget about it? That photoshoot is gonna be killer and the fact that we're being seen together after your little tryst is gonna change everyone's minds. We're doing the right things. Can we please just not worry about it anymore? I've got enough to worry about out here."

Eddie sat up and looked at you with what you hoped was concern but worried was something closer to appalment. But then he took another drag and started to nod.

"I guess I see where you're coming from." Eddie seemed to choose his words carefully. After a few more puffs he spoked once more, changing the subject. "Can I take you out after the show? Have a little fun? You're too wound up."

You looked to him and nodded, trying not to give away how much of a thrill it really was to you that he was asking this sort of thing. This tour had your emotions all frazzled and confused, damn it. You really did need a night out.

///

You put on a badass show that night. When you weren't signing to the front row, or screaming toward the sky, you were glancing to the side of the stage where Eddie stood watching. He was all smiles, clapping and mouthing encouragement you couldn't quite read but felt the well-meaning of from centre stage. Kelsey was even bearable, clapping your back when it was all said and done, finding someone else's throat to jump down for the evening. This made it easy for Eddie to sweep you away, out for a night of good old fashioned fun.

You wound up in some burlesque pub, accepting free shots and signing your autograph on dinner napkins for a dozen scantily clad dancers. 

"I'll have a rum and coke." Eddie shrugged to a waiter, as a crowd of strangers clamored closer to the booth you'd occupied with your alleged man. 

"Is that a good idea?" You asked, careful of your intonation. Worried only a little about Eddie finding annoyance in your question. Worried more by the idea of him with alcohol. 

"I promise to handle my liquor tonight. Only drinking to celebrate the kick ass show you just put on. Hard to come down from that high and I wasn't even on stage, babe!" Eddie excused his drinking, and made you feel valuable in one suave sentence. 

"Well thanks," You nodded decidedly, flagging down someone to mix you a mojito. "One drink." You hopped Eddie would echo your number, agree to the limit. But he changed the subject as if he hadn't even heard the past few words you spoke at all. 

"You sounded so fucking good tonight. What warm up's are you doing to keep your screams so effortless? I'm always exhausted halfway through a set. Would never be able to tell if you were or not." 

"You're full of compliments tonight." You rose a brow, speaking loud, you realized. Even though Eddie leaned in close the club was still pounding with bass and drum and crowd buzz. 

"Well, I mean them." Eddie smiled. He let his eyes fall across the features of your face. He ordered another drink. Another rum and coke. He said he was following your one drink rule by not ordering something different. You couldn't help but scoff a laugh and go with the flow, not wanting the night spent by his side to sour or end. Eddie drank and laughed his way through a story about his bandmates high school prom date. He asked you where you grew up. He listened while you yammered on all the same. 

And sometime between your fifth mojito, a foreigner was handing you a microphone. You didn't know quite how you wound up being dragged toward the little club stage to sing Don't Go Breaking My Heart with a man in a pristinely applied wig and bright make up. You never saw Eddie find his way toward the front of the venue either. But when you glanced out to find him laughing and cheering along in a little wicker chair, you'd felt something in your soul settle. You felt your smile grow. You felt a reason to keep singing.

When your surprise performance ended and your once in a lifetime duet partner sent you off the stage with a kiss on the cheek, Eddie stayed sat in his chair near the stage. But he'd held his arms out wide, and you didn't think twice about falling into his lap like you'd never belonged any place else.  Eddies lap was warm. His arms enclosed your waist securely. His lips pressed a couple of kisses to your shoulder as you leaned back into him. You needed this. You'd been longing for comfort. For a care. A very drunken part of you was even beginning to consider calling it love. But the other well trained half of your nervous system shut out that blossoming idea. 

Still, you let yourself enjoy whatever spell you were under in that little burlesque club. You sat in Eddie's lap and let him hold you while a few other performers came and went. And just before last call, Eddie nudged you from your perch and decided your night was over easily as he'd decided on making it happen for you all those hours ago.

"Thanks for that. It was fun to get out, break free from a schedule." You mentioned, walking alongside the guy. Your hotel was only two blocks away, and no one was out, with cameras or otherwise.

"Of course. I needed it too. Nothings is as fun with anyone but you these days." Eddie said, slinging an arm around your shoulder as he matched your pace along the pavement. 

"Easy now. Don't have to keep wooing me. No one is watching anymore." You teased, ignoring the sinking in your stomach. Ignoring those dangerous thoughts that had started to bubble in your mind back at the club. 

"I know." Eddie replied, softly yet surely. 

His arm stayed firm across your shoulder as he went on to joke about something that the waiter had said earlier. You laughed and rambled on down the block until your hotel came into view around a certain corner. In the glow that illuminated from inside out, stood a small gathering of your fans. Four or five friends who all danced a little at the sight of you approaching, waving your records and posters in their clutch. 

"Well hello everyone." You chuckled, moving with more intention, closer to the group and out of Eddies grasp. Without a second thought you started signing albums and listening to pairs of friends tell you how much your music meant to them. You relished being able to hear their stories, to be able to connect with people who gave a fuck about you for longer than a second outside busy airport gates and vip green room meet ups.

One of the meeker girls, to your surprise, caught the attention of the man who'd been hanging back, watching with a grin as you shone.

"Eddie, can I have your autograph too?"

"Ah, you don't want mine, do you? We'd all much rather have hers." Eddie sauntered closer to the group, eyes steady on your form, you realized, when you turned to smile at him. "In fact, I'm still waiting on one myself."

The pit that usually felt like a void in your gut seemed to fill with butterflies and ocean waves then. It was getting hard to ignore the fact that you liked this man more than a little. After saying pleasant goodnights and farewells to the small group of your admirers, Eddie walked you up to your room. He did not reach out an arm across your shoulder. He did not even brush his arm against yours the whole journey seventeen stories up. The absence of touch felt heavy and hurtful.

And when you stood lingering in the doorway of your room after asking if he would come inside, he shook his head. Funny how quickly agony replaced excitement. Funny how you'd only moments ago marveled over how close enough he was to touch. How you now despised the space between you entirely.

Eddie only shoved his closed fists into his leather pockets and let his unsteady focus bounce between either of your eye's.

"You know I want to. And you know why I won't." Eddie said.

"Well..." You tried like mad to get out what you wanted to say. But you weren't even sure how you were really feeling let alone able to express that much. Your pause was too long. Eddie pressed a divine kiss to your hairline, finally closing the space in between you, but tragically ending the time you'd got to spend with him. Eddie slinked off and around the corner, out of sight, hardly out of mind. 

The hall got quiet. Your heart felt loud. Must've meant bedtime.

///

A couple weeks passed by without hearing from Eddie at all. A couple weeks had passed since you'd heard from anyone but Kelsey, constantly screaming in your ear, waking you up, rushing you to sound checks, telling you to throw away breakfast because there was no time to eat it.

When the phone in your latest hotel room rang after a much-needed hour long bath, you ran to answer after its first clatter.

"Hello?"

"Hey, it's Brooke. Do you have a minute?"

Oh, how curious. The pit in your stomach buzzed with worry as your brain collected a million reasons for Eddie's managers phone call.

"I should, yeah. How are you, Brooke?"

"I'm okay. Eddie isn't. Last night he caused a bit of a scene on stage at the Roxy, he was so drunk he could barely remember the words let alone sing them. This morning, I found him hanging out of the back of his limo, almost passed out on the side street of the Troubadour. He asked me to drive him back to rehab. He wanted you to know before you found out through the news."

You let out a long sigh. Frustrated. Worried. Confused. Brooke went on to leave you an address to write to, saying he'd asked you too.

So, after hanging up you didn't waste any time pulling out the hotel's free stationary, scribing one really long letter. You wrote about how the tour felt like hell and how you couldn't wait to be home. You wrote about how proud of Eddie you were for seeking help and taking time for himself. And you dreamed of doing the same, asking him to tell you any and everything he would be comfortable sharing.

That afternoon you left the letter in Kelsey's grasp, asking the manager to mail it. The next few days, a cycle was born. Wake up. Write Eddie, leave the letter with Kelsey, sing a bunch of songs.

Then your drummer came knocking on your door.

"Do you plan on writing Eddie anymore letters?" Zed wondered, curiously. You didn't think much of it, he'd probably seen you leaving the envelopes with your manager.

"Yeah." You shrugged.

"Well, I found a stack of them in Kelsey's room. He hasn't mailed any. So, I gave them to the front desk of the hotel to send out this morning. I hope that's okay?" Zed went on to explain that he'd figured you'd want them sent as soon as possible, hoping he hadn't crossed an odd boundary. The pit in your stomach threatened to swallow you hole. The thought of Eddie sitting in rehab, wondering if you were going to send letters like he asked, receiving nothing. You worried at the thought of letting him down, even though you'd never intended to.

"Fuck man. Thank you, Zed." You grumbled some curses against your manager and thanked your drummer a few dozen times for sending the post and letting you know what you should've known better about, you guessed. Like he'd sensed you talking shit, Kelsey slinked in the room soon after, asking you to get a move on. But you'd been ready to go. Moving faster to get the sorry excuse of a man away from your sight.

"See how much nicer things go when you don't piss me off?" Kelsey called across the hall. You begged to differ.

///

On the way to the next gig, you heard a familiar tune on the radio. Lyrics you'd written. A riff of your bass players on creation. Prince's vocals mysteriously added to the mix.

"Why is Prince singing my song?" You turned to your band who were all equally as befuddled as you, stammering different 'I don't know's.'

The from the edge of the limo came the voice you dreaded hearing most.

"Sold it. He heard it in the booth and offered you a few million for the rights. I said yes." Kelsey huffed past a cigar.

"You sold my song to-" You began to see red when the ride stopped and your manager interrupted you, pushing you to get out and onto the stage. Your band couldn't help. They were being corralled all the same. Was this life even yours anymore? It seemed every move you made was orchestrated and modified by the manager you'd mistakenly given too much power too.

By then, the refuge you found on stage began to feel like the same old trap. Kelsey started deciding your set lists. And the first night of three at Maddison square garden, your first stop of the USA leg of the tour; you changed up what had been written down on a whim. Because the crowd was chanting for a number from your very first album. And who were you to deny them that?

Apparently, according to your manager, the devil incarnate. 

Kelsey lost his shit on you in the limo on the way to CBGBS, all for changing the fucking setlist. Your fucking setlist. Zed, bless him, tried to speak up in defense of the situation. But his arguments were shut down soon as Kelsey could form a word.

Thank God the club was in sight.

///

CBGB's 1986 -

Lou Reed gave your drummer a little blue pill. Zed said he felt free for the first time maybe ever. You found this out after the guy stole another little blue pill for you. It went down well with whiskey. Then Kelsey started to kill your buzz, being all charming and nice in front of strangers. And that was the most upsetting part of all. Because he was such a dick. And you hated to see anyone believing otherwise.

And because he couldn't help but pick apart your every move, he tried to stop you from ordering a sixth vodka.

"You've made my life hell. This is the only way to cope." You pointed.

"I've made you rich and famous, dear, you may be drunk but you're not that stupid." Kelsey droned in that stupid fucking accent.

"You sold my song to fucking Prince! You didn't even tell me. God knows you'd never ask first but you didn't even mention it! Where is the money for that transaction, huh? Already snuffed up your nose?"

"Maybe." Kelsey boasted, snatching your vodka from your grasp.

"You change my set lists. You deny me meals. You force me to fall in love with a man to make the press happy, to keep your name fucking shinny!" You were seething as you yanked back the glass and chucked it to the ground, glass shattering at your feet. Kelsey only chuckled, a dark low rumble that opened the pit in your stomach where fear and rage lived.

"I only told you to stay married to him darlin', you didn't have to suck him off and pout as he left, that's your own idiocy." Your manager loomed over you, his smoke scented breath blowing in your face. You were jabbing a finger into his chest and calling him a bloodsucking cunt as his smile twisted into a snarl.

By that point Ambrose and Izzy were pulling you and Kelsey back from each other. You yelled for your bassist to let you go, to let you keep calling out your manager for all the shit he kept pulling.

"You know that's a really bad idea. Go find Zed. He's been looking for you." Izzy's hold on you was barely a grasp but you still yanked your arms away, pissed. You grumbled away from the tension filled situation and pushed passed the crowd cheering on Blondie to find your drummer leaned against the back wall, all buddy buddy with Lou Reed, by then.

"Perfect timing, Mrs. Munson. I was just going to invite you and your drummer here to the Chealsea." Your ears rang as Lou Reed waved you and Zed along. On your walk behind the bleach blonde songwriter, your drummer revealed he'd been gifted a whole giant bottle of those little blue pills for the pair of you to survive off of the rest of the tour. Anything to dull the ache.

///

Chealsea Hotel 1986 -

The clock on the dimly lit hallway wall read four in the morning. There was a faint yet ever-present ringing in your ear. There were people packed into every room on this floor, bodies were scattered through the halls, waiting their turn for entry to a room. Or impatiently having a go at each other between potted plants and elevator doors. Someone grabbed you, they were crying and saying they loved you. They were begging you to sing a song as you shrugged them off and told them maybe next time.

"Too many people." You suddenly realized, gripping onto your drummer's forearm. He stalled and turned back to understand what you were saying. Lou Reed was long gone, had been since you'd arrived here however long ago.

You announced that you were headed down to the lobby and began stepping through the maze of strangers, breathing in their smoke and wondering how time was moving so fast. Had thirty minutes really already passed on your journey through this weird gathering?

Down at the front desk, workers smiles were wide as you glided up to the counter. If anyone was ahead of you, you'd cut them. Maybe they had let you. They usually did.

"Do you have any available rooms?" You smiled hopefully. For you, surely they would. For you, they had too. You couldn't be sure you could get back to the place Kelsey had you staying at. And you were in desperate need of some space that didn't feel completely suffocated by responsibility. The women at the front desk told you there were opening but none of the more accommodating rooms for guests as elite as yourself were available. You assured her you didn't care if it was a closet with pillows for a bed so long as you had a place to crash. With in minutes you were being handed a room key.

On your way to the tenth floor, Zed appeared again, this time with company. Ambrose and Kelsey were having a spat, and your drummer was being cornered with his hands up. You saw your guitarist notice you and that was enough to send you sprinting past them to get to the room you booked. Your manager started to call after you, demanding you stop. But you were too quick. You locked yourself into a perfectly adequate room, with a bed, a balcony and a small additional bathroom. This was more than enough. But it wasn't long before your crew was pounding at the door.

"You can't stay here. I've got two entire floors of the Marriot booked just for you, your royal fucking highness." Kelsey spat on the other side of the wooden door.

"Stop fucking talking to me like that!" You hollered back, unzipping your boots and tossing them against the door. God you could really go for another one of those little blue pills.

"Come on, please let's just go." You heard Ambrose whine like an impatient kid brother.

"Fuck you too!" You called back, angry that everyone surrounding you went along with Kelsey's bullshit. You knew they had to, to survive. But you were ready to start fighting against it. You heard the men bickering beyond your seclusion, Kelsey yelling at Zed to have a go at demanding you leave the room. He argued back that he wasn't going to beat on the door like a maniac, but he would try and talk to you like a human being, if they so insisted. His knock was polite. He had more of those little blue pills. You let him in.

Your drummer eased into the room as you slammed the door in the other's faces. That didn't stop your manager from shouting still, demanding you and Zed leave right that moment. Demanding Zed better not be a fucking idiot and just drag you out of there. Your drummer only shook his head and rose a hand to nudge you away from the door you stood seething in front of. He guided you to the far corner of the bed closest to the balcony. He opened the doors, letting in fresh autumn air.

"Don't listen to them." He said in a hush, hunkering down at your side, hands clasped between his knees.

"Well, aren't you gonna try and talk me out of here?"

"No. I think if we stay quiet, they'll leave. And maybe we can have one night of fucking peace." Zed laughed hopelessly as one of them conditioned to pound on the locked door. You sat, biting back tears.

"You're the only one who has checked up on me this whole time. I know the others don't want to cross Kelsey. But none of the rest of the band has even like, said good morning to me. Or sat next to me at lunch. Izzy will share lyrics on plane rides. Ambrose will thank me for rolling up his joints. But then they fuck off to the green room or the dinning hall with all the groupies. I've never expected us all to be best fucking buddies. But I've never felt so alone Zed."

You vented, choking back the ever-growing lump in your throat. Your drummer unclasped his hand and placed his palm on your knee as he shook his low hung head.

"And," You went on, unable to stop now that your expression had started. "Eddie can't call. He's in rehab. Even if he wasn't it's not like we're really married."

"What?" Zed turned, confused.

"Eddie's getting sober somewhere in the middle of nowhere California. And our marriage is a lie. Kelsey made us sign a contract. We're not married. It's all for show. My whole fucking career is all for show at this point. I'm Kelsey's little puppet and every time I try to cut the strings, I just end up tangled up in them."

"He's such a fucking devil." Zed frowned. "Once this tour is over..." You watched your drummer search for his next words. "I don't even know. But none of us should let him keep this shit up."

The banging at the door started again. Zed held a finger to his lips, stopping you from speaking. After a moment in the faintest whisper, you could muster you asked your drummer for another one of those pills from Lou Reed.

He pulled the bottle from his brown leather coat, and portioned you out two. You started to reach for both when he quirked a brow.

"Sorry." You grinned, guilty. Zed took the other pill and his jacket off, tossing the garment and the bottle to the corner.

"So, is that why Eddie has been so sloppy with being seen with so many girls, last month? You two really aren't a thing at all?"

"I guess." You sighed. "I thought we were something. I think he's, bare minimum, a friend. But everything else is just for show." You realized, recalling the tabloids recent write up about Eddies much too public fling with a girl from the crowd of his latest concert. You couldn't pretend that didn't hurt.

"I feel like no one is on my side." You struggled to hide the tears that pooled in your eyes, desperate for what you took to kick in already.

"Well, I'm here, aren't I?" He seemed concerned about however you may answer. And you realized that he was here. And that he did care. And that despite being caught up in the same bullshit as you, he was giving you all the space and time to talk about it.

You leaned in, sniffling back your crocodile tears as that faint ringing in your ears began to grow a little miraculously louder. You hugged your drummer and thanked him for listening and sitting in here and for not talking you out of going anywhere else. He let a calloused hand pet back your hair and reminded you that he was hiding away all the same. Trauma bonding.

"Can I say something?" Zed asked as you pulled away. You nodded.

"I kind of want to kiss you. But not like out of love. I think it's the pills. And the pent-up stress. And the fact that you get it. And I trust you." He shrugged and you took in every word. "Do you want me to leave now? I know that's probably the last thing you-"

"No, it's okay." You insisted, reaching out to rest a hand on the guy's thigh. He let his brow push together. His silvery eyes studied yours. He wasn't your type at all. Shaggy blonde, too toned drummer. But he was a good friend. And that was more than you could ask for at this point. "Wanna blow off some steam?"

"Seeing as how you're not actually married, I'm okay with it." Zed laughed a little, letting you be the one to make the first move. You kissed him and blocked out every thought that popped up of Eddie, and every wish that you were desperate to be kissing him instead.

Zed was warm and patient and really good with his hands. He asked over and over if what you were doing was okay. He fucked you three times by the time the clock read six in the morning. Then he helped you get dressed and turned over to give you space to sleep beside him in the full-sized mattress.

Your early morning freedom was interrupted by lunch time when Kelsey boomed at the door. He gave the pair of you a scolding through his teeth as you passed through the Chealsea, and really reamed into the pair of you on the limo ride to the tour bus. You'd be traveling to New Jersey, down to North Carolina, then down to Georgia and Florida, back up and across most the states from there. It was a daunting schedule to look ahead to after traveling so much of Europe already. And to know you weren't able to enjoy any of it at all, being under such restrictive control.

///

The next four shows were a blur. You were taking a trio of those little blue pills before every sound check. Whatever your manager shouted in your ear went out the other until the next day. You let time pass you by as you left your heart and soul on stage, using each show as some kind of therapy, best you could. And somehow, without discussing it at all, you and Zed had made a habit out of sneaking into each other's rooms each night. You used each other's sex to pacify the horrors of the tour. And that much you discussed. It was mutually agreed that no feelings could be born from the habit, and if they were it would have to stop. Your hook ups were strictly medicinal. Zed was your supplier, after all.

Ambrose caught on, and so had the others, you were certain. But your guitarist had spotted you in Zeds room one late night when he'd come knocking in search of some cocaine.

"Really, you two? How does Mr. Munson feel about that?"

"I'm sure you'd like to know. Get the fuck out of here." Your drummer slammed the door in his face. But his question haunted you for days after he asked. How would Eddie feel? Would he care at all? Would he be glad you found someone to bone after trying to shag him a time or two to no avail? Would he be pissed you were being sloppy? Would he be pissed if you accused him of being sloppy too? Would he be pissed if he knew how much you missed him?

And God how you really missed Eddie. How you hated catching glimpses of your fake ass wedding ring. How you wished you'd never left Hawaii.

///

Chicago 1986 -

The crowd stretched for miles; the open green field packed with fans far as the eye could see. The wind was welcome as its chill cooled you from the heat of the stage lights. The show was going as well as it could. Your band was in sync. You didn't even mind how Kelsey had organized the set list. Something was bound to piss you off soon, since nothing had yet. You considered this as you ran off stage during Ambrose' guitar solo, reaching for a bottle of water and a shot of something stronger.

Then the unthinkable. It was like the first time you met. You looked up and Eddie Munson was standing before you, eyes a little clearer than ever, hair longer too.

"You're looking good out there!" He smiled and shouted past the music.

"Eddie?" You grinned, baffled by his very sudden and unexpected appearance. Before he could explain himself, Kelsey nudged his way between the pair of you.

"Good! You're here! How's about a song or two?" Your manager smiled to Eddie, whose face grew concerned.

"Oh, no. I'm just here to see my w-"

"When Ambrose runs back, he'll trade off with you. Just two songs. No better way to promote the new album!"

"This is their show, not mine. I really don't want-"

"Ambrose!" Kelsey waved as your guitarist skipped side stage after his solo. Izzy was sauntering on to take his turn in the spotlight now. "Eddie is gonna take your spot for the rest of the show."

"You said only two songs!" You rang with worry. Why was this evil Brit so dead set on causing such chaos? Kelsey looked to you with a glare, ripped the bottle of water from your hand and pushed you toward the stage before going on to force Ambrose custom flying V onto Eddie.

The ringing in your ear that those little blue pills brought on was beginning to fade away. The audiences' roars dulled your senses now. You waved at them as you hurried to tell Izzy there was a change of plans and you'd only be playing songs from the new album now. The first five tracks, then the hit single, you decided in a hurry, telling him to pass the info onto Zed.

"Okay Chicago!" You breathed into your mic. "You're about to be just as surprised as I am!"

Eddie's entrance toward center stage caused the crowd to react so loudly it felt as though an earthquake could have been coaxed from the ruckus. You caught a glimpse of Ambrose at the side of the stage, throwing a fit, before turning to cue Zed to start the next song. He'd been giving the right info, playing the beat to the song you decided. You clued Eddie in, too, before taking centre stage once more and doing the best you could to carry on this concert without having a mental break down.

It was good to see Eddie. But the pair of you had a lot left unsaid. It was a sick joke, being forced to sing the songs you wrote with him, into the same microphone now. To be looking right in his big brown eyes, to feel his exhales, to be stupidly intoxicated by his presence after months, after no contact, after feeling so abandoned and hurt, even if that wasn't entirely his fault.

The four of you played a decent show, and the sold-out festival crowd was in a frenzy by the encore. You sang with Eddie and looked right at him. He kissed your cheek as Zed dragged out the beats that ended the set. But your phantom husband had never felt further away.

There was no time to talk still as your band was corralled into separate interviews and congratulations from festival promoters. Eddie was the most sought-after entity, of course. Not only was his appearance on your set a surprise but it was the first time he'd been seen out in months since disappearing to rehab. You weren't sure what excuse he gave the press this time. You couldn't quiet hear the answers he was giving journalists now, as you rushed toward the green room showers.

You found Zed leaving there and asked him for more pills, as big a handful as he'd give you. He was hesitant, but you promised it was just so you wouldn't have to track him down for more later. The blonde was worn down, dumping a few into your palm as you hurried to get cleaned up.

You knew your time was limited in the green room's shower, and you knew the night ahead was a long one. There were three more official interviews with festival promoters to complete, and a VIP tent to make an appearance in, all while Iron Maiden played the final set of the evening. You realized, as you washed the sweat from your back, that you didn't know if Eddie would still be there when you came out of the room. Or if he'd be lingering close by the rest of the evening. Or if you two were going to have time for a real discussion. So, under stress from every angle, you broke your promise to Zed and downed the handful of pills at once.

And then you were off, dressed in a new silk slip and pre torn tights, sprinting down the hall to make it to the press tent in time. Outside, Kelsey was off in the distance, shmoozing some promoters. Izzy was flirting with Lita Ford by the craft table. And you were scurrying between tour busses as dusk started to set in. Iron Maiden hadn't yet started their set. And on the steps near your tour bus, you found the rest of your band, and Eddie, sharing beers. Oh how fucking lovely.

"You've got to be fucking joking." You stood before Eddie, seething, rage coursing through your nervous system. He knew exactly what you were on about, shifting his weight as his lithe expression turned pale. Eddie shifted his weight and kept the bottle in his grasp close to his chest. You almost couldn't believe he was choosing to be so dumb right now. Led by anger, you reached out to grab the beer from Eddie's grasp. He let you rip it from his fingers and avoided the way your eyes bore into his very being. 

The boys at his side were quiet until Ambrose let out a low whistle, mentioning that he would run and get Eddie a third drink. A third. Meaning he'd had another before now. Meaning that he was acting way dumber than you ever fathomed he was capable of.

Suddenly it was all too much. As each boy noticed watch you turn red from outrage, it was like every emotion you'd suppressed in the past handful of months broke past the seal and your world began to spin. Yeah... maybe you should have heeded Zed's worry.

"Shit." You groaned, feeling your chest tighten. You dropped the bottle, rushed past the group and grabbed at the door of your traveling home. Thank God, no one was inside. Your sprint to the loo was just in time as you began to vomit. You cried, and cursed, and got sick again and wondered why nothing felt good anymore. Even the shit that used to keep the bad feelings at bay was back firing now.

You heard the group of guys just outside the door you left swung open, wondering what just happened to you. Ambrose far off muffled voice was unmistakable, "Come on, Eddie. I'll get you more beer. Let Zed deal with her sorry ass. He's been pretty good at filling your shoes, ya know?"  

Nausea rushed over you, shutting off the rest of your senses. You stayed slumped on the little loo floor, the room was small enough that your feet stuck out into the hall. Then you heard the door shut. And the sound of heavy boots clucking toward you.

"Are you wasted?" Eddie wondered. You looked up to him, standing with his fists balled up, his fingers working nervously at each palm. His dark brows were furrowed, and his speech was ever so slightly slurred.

"Are you wasted?" You shot back, still so beyond pissed off at him.

"I told you I was a recovering fuck up. Not a fully rehabilitated one." The guy reminded with a small humorless laugh.

"Why are you here?" You whimpered, resting your head against the lid of the toilet, the latter half of your sentence, a mumble.

"I'm here to see you, why the fuck else would I be? I didn't want to play the last thirty minutes of your damn set. I wanted to see you! It's been months you know?" Eddie shot back. It had been a long set of days since you'd had the pleasure of hearing the guys voice. Why did his return have to leave you feeling so fucking awful? Why didn't you stop all this shit from playing out when you had the chance? Crumble up that dumb ass contract in front of Kelsey and everyone. If only you could've saved yourself this world of hurt.

"And whose fault is that?" You asked through a whine, feeling sick all over again.

"Don't you dare put all the blame on me. I know I fucked up. I'll own that. But you're the one who pushed me away from the beginning. You told me you didn't want a real connection with me. I was willing to actually fall in love with you. And newsflash. I am actually in love with you!" Eddie's voice was growing firmer with each word he spoke. "I'm in deep fucking disgusting love with you. And you told me you didn't want that. So, I kept my fucking distance."

"I find that hard to believe." You rang through your teeth, sitting up a little. "You told me you couldn't sleep with me again because you'd fall too much in love or whatever the fuck. That hasn't stopped you from sleeping with what, three, four groupies since I left for tour? In deep disgusting love with every single one of them, are ya?"

"Of course not." Eddie waved as if it were obvious. "Those were drunken flings. Based on lust. I was already head over heels with you when you shagged me in the hot tub. I knew I'd only fall more. And since you said you weren't looking for love I set a fucking boundary. To please you!"

"Well I do love you! I don't fucking want to, but I do! I don't want any of this shit. I don't want our bullshit marriage. I don't want to be on this fucked up tour. I want to quit this shitty fucking job, oh God-"

You caught a glimpse of Eddie's face before you started to lose your lunch all over again. His eyes were wide, his jaw was slacked, his head shook in disbelief. And then what felt like a life time passed as your body writhed in agony.

"What did you take?" Eddie demanded to know.

"I don't know." You lied.

"Bullshit! What did you fucking take?" Eddie raised his voice as you started to sob.

"Zed's pills. Please don't yell at me!" You responded past tears and waves of nausea.

"I'm sorry." Eddie heaved, and you could tell he meant it and that made you cry harder. You heard his boots stomp away as you lost your fucking mind between tears and sick. You heard the door swing open. You heard Eddie say, "Get a medic in here, you son of a bitch." And you just knew he was talking to Zed, and you imagined the poor drummer lingering worriedly near enough the bus door to be there when Eddie opened it. The dreamy eyed guitarist was back in the room and kneeling at your side to comfort you while you both waited for someone to come and help.

You started to apologize for what exactly you weren't sure yet. Eddie dismissed you and said you could talk more later tonight. And you realized that meant he was staying. And that made you feel the smallest bit better.

When the medic came, he assumed you'd already vomited up most of the pills, but insisted you to come to the emergency tent for a while. You worried instantly, knowing Kelsey would blow a gasket. The rest of the band could carry on perfectly suitable interviews without you, but you knew there'd be hell to pay. Eddie sat with you, listened to the medics with you, gave you his jacket as the night grew cold. Then he walked you toward the car that the doctors called for you, insisting you get to a bed and rest as long as you could. He slid in the other side of the cab and let you slump against his shoulder the whole ride to whatever hotel you were staying in that night.

///

As Eddie walked you toward the sanctuary that was this evening's quiet hotel suite, the elevator doors chimed down the hall.

"You fucked up tonight beyond your wildest imagination!" Your managers shouts were more irate than you'd ever heard them. But you were almost too exhausted to care. Only three steps away from your room. Stubborn still, you couldn't help but turn to fight back.

Kelsey was red faced and rambling so viciously that the assistant that had followed him up was taking a step back with apparent concern. Around this time, the elevator dinged again, revealing Izzy and a group of strangers hanging off his arm.

"This is coming out of your paycheck! Do you realize that? You can't just do whatever pleases you!" Your manager raved.

"Your threats are getting boring." You stated simply, lazy eyed, hoping your lackluster engagement to this man's tirade would sting his ego.

"It's not a threat, it's a fucking promise. Have you forgotten I control every aspect of your sorry little life?"

"Don't fucking talk to her like that man." Eddie snapped, unable to cope with this nonsense any longer.

"This conversation doesn't fucking concern you," Kelsey, red faced and practically foaming at the mouth, shoved a hand to your fake husband's chest. Eddies back hit the door of the room you'd been trying to enter with a thud. He stayed a bit stunned, letting a shocked grin grow under his furrowed brow. But your composure was lost by then. You couldn't help but to begin to lose your mind.

"You absolute twat!" You shouted; lunging toward your manager who was significantly taller and was holding a stance like a boxer who was prepared to demolish his opponent. All hell broke loose. You were barely able to land a swing to Kelsey's iron build when his assistant moved to block you from becoming more physical. Izzy had rushed to involve himself by then too, much to the shock of the friends he'd brought along- who stood at the end of the hall in awe.

"You're all bark and no bite, just like your pathetic excuse of a husband." Kelsey tried to squirm away from the way your coworkers were backing him up. Eddie was simultaneously placing the hotel room key you'd given him back in your hand and motioning you to unlock the door, distracting you from escalating the situation further.

"I know better than to swing back. We're done here." Eddie let out a huff of a humorless laugh and shrugged his shoulders back in place. You got the door open just in time and let Eddie nudge you into the room first. Kelsey's grumbled curses were drowned out when your pretend husband shut and locked the pair of you in; and a deafening silence surprised you when you were only minutes ago seeking out the refuge of quiet you knew would be here.

You stood in the middle of the room, trying to catch your breath from getting so worked up. But the adrenaline that coursed through your system raged on and the overwhelm that had dawned over you in the tour bus was still shading your every thought.

"I want to go home." You whimpered. But that's not what you really meant. You'd never felt at home in the house you'd lived in the past four years. The only place you'd ever really felt at ease was Hawaii. Was that one house. Was with Eddie. But you couldn't say all that now.

You realized you were crying again when the man on your mind was suddenly standing before you and pulling you too his chest for an embrace.

"I'm so sorry. You wrote in your letters that this tour was awful but now I see they're worse than that. We've gotta get you away from this crazy dude." Eddie soothed, letting his hand brush over the back of your hair while holding you closer with the other all the while. You sank into his embrace for a moment longer before pulling away to sniffle and speak more clearly.

"He- he has me wrapped up in so many contracts. Half of which I don't even know the full extent of because he's so tricky. I don't even know where to begin." You let out a shaky breath as Eddie listened. "He's slowly killing me. He sold my music to Prince. Did you know that? He writes my set lists. He times my meals. I'm supposed to be living the dream, but it feels much more like a nightmare." You groaned, hanging your head in your hands.

"He what?" Eddie asked, alarmed. You knew Kelsey was pulling fucked up shit, but in the midst of it all, it seemed all too impossible to retaliate against. The man you'd been missing was standing before you now, reaching out a hand to brush his fingers against your wrist. Eddie's hand stroked toward your shoulder as you wiped your eyes and took a deep breath in.

"He also threatened me into pretending to marry this really cool guy. Who I'm really in love with now. But I'm so scared this guy'll never want to really be with me. And when our contract is up, he'll be free to fall for someone without being obliged."

Eddie watched as you spoke, biting into a frown that drooped lower still.

"You're gonna make me cry." Eddie breathed a laugh through his nose as a sheen covered his big brown eyes, and his hands found either side of your face.

"Cryin' because you know I'm right? Or cryin' because you know I'm wrong?" You dared to ask, fearful all the while your heart really couldn't take it if he turned you down now.

"Are you crazy? What part of 'I've loved you since the Hawaiian hot tub' don't you understand?"

Bitting back a smile, you took a beat to look into Eddie's dark dreamy eyes. Your brain was almost to fogged by the chaos of the day to fully comprehend the conversation you were having right now. But your heart seemed to understand, as it settled and warmed within you.

"You sobered up fast, huh?" You joked, but not really, as your eyes focused back and forth between his.

"I don't know why it's so hard. Maybe I need longer than three months in rehab. God it's so embarrassing."

But you got it. This lifestyle wasn't for the tender soul. But a tender soul always made the best art. And self-medication was the quickest method to suppressing the madness.

"Hey," You shook your head, catching Eddies eye. "No more talking about all this shit tonight. We'll figure it out soon enough, won't we?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I hope so." Eddie nodded, sucking in a breath and drawing out its release. "Come on then... let me take care of you for once."

Eddie dragged you into the bathroom, filled up the tub and dimmed the lights. He joined you in the water and washed your hair and kissed your shoulders. He held you close enough to feel his heart beating. He dried you off and helped you slip into your pj's and joined you in bed for what you realized was the very first time. It was early by rockstar standards. Only ten. Still early enough to catch a special on the telly, the perfect white noise that sent you drifting off in Eddie's arms. And just before sleep, you felt the peace of belonging you'd wished for when you dreamed of home.

///

The next morning you were awoken by a cart of food being pulled in by the wild haired guitarist.

"Didn't mean to wake you, sorry love. Food can wait if you're still tired."

"Don't you have a show to play or an interview to film or anything? How are you still here?" You wondered, staying cocooned under the duvet.

"I've got nothing. I was actually going to ask if you minded me staying a few nights on tour with you. We are still contractually wed. But more importantly I really fucking missed you, ya know?"

"Do you really want to stay? It's no fun."

Just as Eddie started to answer, the door to your room that had been unlocked from Eddie's breakfast delivery, swung open. Kelsey barged in, rolled up papers in hand. You assumed they were the doctor's notes left from last night. They'd ordered you to a day of rest.

"You're one lucky fucker, you know that? You might get to be babied today but you're making up the interviews I had to cancel before we leave at six tomorrow morning."

"What are you gonna do Kelsey, drag me out of fucking bed?" You sat up and spat right at the guy. "I'm not some fucking pet you can leash up and show off. I'm a person! With a soul! I guess I can see why that's hard for you to comprehend, being the leach you are."

"You need to leave. Don't come back today. I will call security if you do." Eddie walked towards Kelsey, beginning to back him out of the room. The manager laughed lowly.

"Well aren't you two cute? Treacherous nobodies." Kelsey tossed the rolled-up papers at you before turned to leave.

"What a fucking prick." Eddie growled, picking up the papers that had floated each and every direction. He tossed them on the desk and moved to sit on the bed at your side.

"So what'll it be? Pancakes? Or back to resting?" The guy reached out a hand to brush a strand of hair from your face. Just as you grinned and opened your mouth to answer there was another persistent knock at the door.

"It never ends!" Eddie chimed.

"I told you it's no fun here." You shrugged pointedly. "Will you answer again?" You were gonna choose going back to sleep, if the fates would allow. Your body ached from its efforts of violent sick the night before. Your mind ached from exploding under the pressure of it all, last night.

"Oh, hi." Eddie opened the door to Zed. His hair was mused. He was clad in only a robe and boxers. And he held a paper in his hand.

"Was Kelsey just here?" The drummer looked anxiously from Eddie to you, back to Eddie.

"Yeah, why?" Eddie assured, seemingly worried.

"Did he leave you papers? Because it's our bank statements. And they're way fucking wrong, at least on my end." Zed held up his bluish tinted sheet that looked just like the one sitting on the table of your room. You didn't feel very tired anymore. You rushed to stand, grabbing the document and scanning the words and numbers on the page.

"There are hundreds missing. Maybe more. And it's all charged under 'miscellaneous funds.' What the fuck is this?" You waved the page before both boys, alarm bells whirring in your head. When Kelsey threatened to pull from your paycheck he wasn't kidding.

"We've had almost mirrored spending habits as the month before yet more is being taken out this time?" Zed shuffled documents until he reveled last month's invoice, pointing out the differences.

"My lawyers are Kelsey's lawyers. What should I do?"

"I'm gonna go to the lobby and call Brooke. I've just had an idea that should hopefully help you all." Eddie noted in a hurry. He nodded to you and brushed past Zed on a sudden mission.

"Fuck dude. It's like, never ending." You wanted to cry but were probably too dehydrated to produce tears at this point.

"I'm going to make sure the others know but..." Zed spoke, shifting his weight in the doorway. "Are you okay?"

"I will be, I think. I don't know. Probably no more little blue pills, yeah?"

"Oh, I already flushed em." Zed assured. "And I assume I won't be getting any more late-night visits either?" The drummer scratched the back of his head and looked to you like a sad little puppy. He wasn't in love with you. And you had nary a feeling for him. But the pair of you had found comfort in your routine hookups.

"I don't know. It's not like Eddie and I have anything officially going on. But I can promise you, you'll be the first to know when I've got my shit figured out, yeah?"

Zed nodded and told you to get back to bed, and thanked you for having a meltdown grand enough to allow everyone else a day off too. You shot him a middle finger and chuckled your way back under the hotel sheets.

///

Kansas 1986 -

Eddie hadn't left your side since Chicago. The last night you spent there he'd called Brooke and asked her to sneak into Kelsey's office in L.A. to go through his files. The brave soul did just that, and found a fax Kelsey had sent to himself of a new contract where he forged the bands signatures and decided to charge you each more monthly. Brooke called you in Detroit and set you up with some well renowned lawyers. You had big plans to fuck Kelsey's shit up after the tour. There were only seven shows left. And you weren't in the business of disappointing your fans.

Kansas was pretty beautiful, the sun shone, your plans were coming together, Eddie spent a lot of time sober and reading a paper back with his head in your lap. Your tour bus pulled into the finest hotel available. You were an entire day ahead of schedule. And there was nothing to do with it.

"Let's go to dinner some place nice, no late-night pub. Wanna?"  Eddie coaxed, crash landing to sit on the edge of this weekends bed. You watched him in his own amusement, grinning as the mattress continued to spring. 

"Sure, that sounds like a nice change of pace." It wasn't to say that you'd been starved of fine dining experiences on this tour. But the past few days had been nonstop with no time to relish or relax outside of the tour bus.

Before you knew it you were dressed to the nines, hanging off of Eddies arm as he escorted you out of the back of the resort where your limo waited. Unsure where exactly you headed, Eddie had taken care of asking the front desk for the nicest eatery nearby. 

A castle like building with French style cuisine it was. Skipping ahead of reservations and smiling politely to wait staff, you wound up settled comfortably in a leather booth, sipping a lemonade and staring at Eddie. He leaned both elbows on his side of the table and stared right back at you.  

"Thanks. For dinner. And for staying on the road with me. And for... well everything I guess."

"It's been truly the least I could do. You shouldn't be saying thanks at all. I should be saying sorry for how much of an embarrassment I've been to you, like, since the dawn of our meeting." Eddie spoke up, twirling the straw in his soda.

"Don't start that-" You tried to stop his groveling, shaking your head.

"I am sorry. We agreed to this marriage to help each other's image, more or less. And I've been parading around like a fool."

"Maybe. But you also got us a trip to Hawaii that changed my life a little. And you're here with me now. You've been better to me than you give yourself credit for." You grinned, searching Eddies deep wide eyes. He squinted as if to consider the weight of your words. He let the chatter of the atmosphere grow louder as silence settled in the space between you. One sip of your drink. Two. Three.

"So, what... how..." Eddie started, struggling to choose his words until he just came right out with it. "Do you really love me?"

"I really do." You nodded, letting your head bob more assuredly as you thought on your statement. "I'm not sure when it happened but I can promise you, you'll break my heart when you leave."

"Well, I don't want to leave." Eddie shook his head, seemingly worried, like he was about to be swept off into a void. "I don't want to leave you. I know I have to go back to L.A. soon but, that's not what we're talking about here."

"It's not." 

Just then, your kind waitress breezed by, offering refills and desserts. You declined both and decided to call it a night, hoping to get some proper beauty sleep in since you had a night free enough to do so. The pair of you breezed out of the restaurant, flashing smiles to the fans who'd gathered outside of the business after learning you were dining inside. You shouldered your way into the limo without too much fuss, and then turned to find Eddie settling at your side. 

And when he looked back at you, it was like the whole world made sense. It baffled you. Here in the middle of America, without a single prompt, it felt like your world just shifted on its axis all because of the smile that reached Eddie's eyes when they locked on yours. Maybe it was the effects of a proper meal settling in after probably too long without one. Or maybe the tour had finally driven you mad beyond comprehension.

But by the time you got back to the hotel, you weren't so naive. You realized that the wall you'd built up that guarded your heart from this man had finally crumbled, the last brick blown over after your conversation at dinner. 

"Eddie-"

Like a mind reader or a braver soul, the man in question spun around from locking the hotel door to grab your face and kiss you. And you got it then. You got why he couldn't have done this with you, if he'd been half as in love with you as you were with him right in this moment. You understood why it would have wrecked him. But you got to kiss him now, letting your soul settle as he kissed you back.

It was as if you'd never done this before. With Eddie or anyone. A carnal desperation washed over you, now that the waiting was over. Your hands traced the inside of Eddie's leather jacket, falling until they reached his belt. As your fingers started to undo the thing, Eddie pushed them away. Oh no, he was about to stop you again, wasn't he? 

"We have all night." Eddie explained, saving your heart from sinking to your stomach. "Slow?"

"Yeah, I like that idea." You smiled, letting Eddie gaze at you through hooded eyes, pressing his smile to your cheek for a kiss. He let his lips wander from your jaw to your neck as his hands trailed from your sides to your back. 

This was all you'd ever wanted from him. This was more than you'd ever let yourself have with him. His body firm against yours. His heart on the table. God, you'd nearly forgotten you were in the midst of a tour that made you nearly consider quitting this business entirely. You'd nearly forgotten you'd ever been hurt at all. 

You simply soaked up the way Eddie peeled off your layers one at a time, taking forever to do so. He laid you down and let you rip away his shirt. He smoothed his hands over your skin and let you tangle your fingers in his hair. 

Dusk cast through the curtains, coloring the room a dull purple. Eddie marveled at the beauty of the evening and moved his kisses down your stomach. Eventually his lips met the middle of you and his kisses were unrelenting. As tortuously slow as he'd taken his time to wind up between your legs, he made up for by working you up into a frenzy in the matter of seconds. And then he claimed he had only just begun; Eddie announced his plan to make you come undone as many times as he could muster before you were each too tired to go on.

He kept his word, sending stars into your vision over and over as the night turned black. You returned every favor, dragging out your efforts to drive Eddie wild until he absolutely couldn't stand it any longer. When it came time for the guy to press himself all the way into you, overwhelming peace filled your heart so full it frightened you. You were almost moved to tears by how in utter fucking love with Eddie Munson you were. Unsure how else to express those profound emotions in a time like now; you let your jaw slack and your breath catch as the weight of these intense feelings and realizations wracked your body and soul. 

Eddie's eyes were focusing on yours then, and with a smile he sighed, "I know." And somehow, you believed that he somehow truly did have an understanding of the exact feeling you struggled to articulate. Still, you barely got to relish the way his hips rocked into yours before he was losing composure. But still, it was beautiful to watch Eddie reach his peak, straining against you. Because of you.

Eddie was crashing at your side, spent and sleepy and so fucking beautiful. 

///

The next morning came too soon. You knew last night was a one off, for now. You knew there were days that waited just ahead that demanded attention you worried you didn't have patience for. You knew you needed to hold onto last night for all it was worth, when morning came.

Eddie woke up, slinging an arm surer around your middle, groaning about not wanting to ever get up. You chuckled and shifted your weight to sit up ever so slightly. You had time left to laze, but not much. So you knew your question needed to be asked right away. 

"Eddie." You whispered, grabbing the hand he left splayed across your stomach, bringing his knuckles to your lips. The guy lifted his mussed head of hair and let his dark eyes flutter to meet yours. He propped himself up on his elbows and pressed his own lips to your shoulder.

"Eddie... What are we doing? What happens now?"

"I want something real with you." Eddie lifted his face to find yours. He was smiling at first but it faltered before he spoke up again. "But I think we need to figure out our shit first. Let our dumbass contract end. Get you through this tour and away from Kelsey. Get myself off the fuckin' bottle. Then maybe we can live life together instead of just trying to survive it."

"I see." You mulled over his statement, still holding his knuckles in your grasp.

"All that to say I want to see you all the time. I want this with you all the time. But I don't want to make you promises I'm afraid I'll break. I meant what I said about staying in rehab longer than three months, this time."

"Is that why you're going back to L.A.?"

"I already asked Brooke to find me a residency." The announcement was a happy one. But it meant his leaving was soon and it meant his absence would be significant. It meant mornings in sheets and sunlight were further away than you'd recently hopped.

"Can I come visit you?"

"I don't think I could fully heal if you didn't."

///

Topeka wasn't the most glamourous city. But deep in the heart of the Midwest, the wildest shit seemed to be going down. Your green room was full of groupies, clowns, bikers, freaks of all kinds. There was probably nothing left to do in the middle of tornado alley than to go a little crazy.

Maybe that's why you weren't surprised when you found Eddie backstage. Maybe that's why you weren't disappointed. Maybe that's why you didn't stop Eddie when he let some pink haired punk rocker pour a shot down his throat. 

But then he saw you and he smiled. He fucking smiled. And you couldn't help but let outrage burst from your being at that point. Marching through the crowd, you plunged a hand out to grab Eddie's sleeve, yanking him away from the madness. All around you people were laughing and yammering and singing, lost in their own plots. Eddie wasn't laughing anymore. He wasn't smiling. He was protesting as you dragged him behind you, around the corner toward a row of backstage showers. Secluded in the tiled room, you let go and turned to face him, Eddie didn't even look like himself. His eyes were glassed over, his demeanor barely held together.

"What the fuck?" You yelled. "Just because you have a room booked at rehab doesn't mean you get a free bender. Stop trying to kill yourself!"

"I- thinking..." Eddie rose a finger, pointing your way before he huffed a small curse, losing his balance, staggering toward the wall.

"You're a fucking mess. I don't even know what to do." You wanted to cry, you wanted to yell at him until he sobered the fuck up and promised to stop this bullshit forever. For good. He stayed leaning against the wall, furrowing his brow, closing his eyes as a you shouted his way.

"You're not the only one this shit is hard for!" Eddie slurred back, opening his eyes and gesturing your way.

"What are you talking about Eddie?"

"This is too hard. I'm too-" He huffed a frustrated sigh, too drunk to possibly convey a proper expression. Still, to the best of his shitfaced ability, he tried. "I'm too fucked up for this job. I'm too fucked up for you. I think I'm always gonna be. So... so jut go back to Zed. Or something. I'm gonna fuck this up. I don't want to but-" His words slurred so close together it may have been impossible to understand him if you didn't know him so well. There were tears welling in his eye's as he rambled, and every word went straight to the pit in your stomach.

"Eddie, baby, listen-"

"No, you gotta go on stage!" He waved a hand for you to hurry away. It was true, but your concerns for him were increasing by the second. Stagehands poked their head in the locker area, calling your name, insisting you hurry. You called back to them to find Kelsey, God how you wished anyone else would be in charge enough to help. When your sleezy ass manager finally rushed in, you told him you refused to go on stage until you saw Eddie put into a cab and escorted back to your hotel. Because there were people watching, Kelsey did as you said.

You played that show with your heart in your throat. You sang with your brain turned off. You tried to remember how great last night was. But tonight scared you too bad.

///

You didn't get on the tour bus. You didn't let Kelsey threaten you to stay for the after party. You rushed to hail a cab and paid the driver far more than anyone ever should have to book it to the hotel.

The driver was brilliant. But the ride seemed to last forever- every second, a threat, in your mind. You worried almost to the point of getting sick. What if they hadn't dropped him off in the room like you demanded? What if he got out and went to a bar or got lost? What if something far worse happened?

You ran inside the fivestar lodge and sprinted to the elevator. You pressed the button to your floor a dozen time, willing it to move faster, muttering your will outloud. The elevator doors creaked shut as you pressed the button again and again, beyond desprate to get upstairs. The indicator passed the second floor. Then it passed the third. And then your ride screeched in an unfamiliar tone, stalling before the arrow could make it to the fourth floor. No.

"This is a sick fucking joke!" You cried out to no one, kicking the doors of the elevator that stalled between floors. You cried and cried and pressed the button again a dozen times before back up, accepting your fate, letting your shoulders hit the wall as you stood alone in tears. Maybe Eddie was right somehow. This was never going to work. Maybe you were destined to break each others hearts. You almost let the grim thought take over your mind. You almost let that conclusion be the finale one to make.

But then you remembered the look in Eddie's eyes last night, when he pinned you against the mattress. And the look in his eyes at dinner. And from the side stages and passenger seats and press junkets. Maybe it was destined to fall apart with Eddie. But you weren't gonna go down without a fight damn it. 

Pushing yourself from the wall, you cursed and pounded the button until the elevator screeched into motion again, rising passed the handful of floors it took until your destination. You practically pried the doors open when you got to where you needed to be, racing down the hall, fumbling your key from your pocket. 

Eddie was there, slumped halfway on the foot of the bed, like he couldn't make it the rest of the way. Empty cans a littered near the bin by the door. Kicking past them, you moved to shake Eddie's shoulders. He grumbled at your jostling him, but nothing you could understand. You cried and tried your best to move him to a more sensible position in the middle of the mattress. You cried and rolled over to kneel by the bedside telephone. It rang twice before she answered.

"Brooke, you need to come get him." You cried. 

"I'm on my way." She assured; without an ounce of hesitation or question or anything but allegiance.

You stayed up, checking Eddie's pulse that never faltered, sniffling back tears for this whole fucked up situation. You stayed up writing a letter to Eddie, promising him things with Zed weren't going to work out. Promising nothing would work out with anyone but him. Promising you'd come visit Eddie in rehab and that you actually loved him more than you knew you were capable of. That even though you were scared too, you were willing. Promising you were proud to call yourself his wife even if you were never actually married. Then you signed your name at the bottom, finally giving him that autograph he'd once asked for.

Brooke was there six hours later. Dressed to the nines, slipping in the room unsurprised by the scene, reaching out to hug you without asking. You let the woman hold you for a moment as you focused on taking deep breaths and convincing your nervous system help was here and happening.

"Thank you for giving a fuck about him. And helping him. For coming all this way." You shuddered a breath and looked to the woman with kind eyes and a killer fashion sense.

"I care about Eddie. I care about you too, you know?"

Brook went on to say that if you ever wanted to call her to talk, her line would always be open. And if you ever wanted to call her to replace Kelsey, she'd gladly represent you. She went on to curse the man in charge of your career, insisting you deserved better than the treatment he gave you. You struggled not to keep on crying as you thanked her a billion times more, and moved to deal with Eddie.

As you and his manager sat up the man, he seemed to wake up from his stupor. Still out of it enough to stay silent, but alert enough to help as you and Brooke dragged Eddie out of the room- and to another stupid fucking elevator and out of the back of the hotel. You had packed his things and stuck your letter in his bag. No doubting he'd receive it in a timely manner.

Outside, Brooke left you to bear all of Eddie's weight as she opened the limo door. In that time, Eddie tried his best to support himself more fully, grabbing at your shirt and yanking himself up to look at you. His eyes were brimmed with tears, still dark and beautiful. Still your favorite pair. 

"You promised." Eddie winced. "No lugging me around." You had a firm hold around his waist, and under his arm. You remembered the deal you made before signing the contracts. You remember what he referenced.

"Not lugging. Helping. That's what I promised." You sniffled, letting more tears fall as you brushed back Eddies hair. His eyes closed and his brow furrowed as you guided him toward the limo. Brook shut his door and promised to phone you. Then they were off. The car sputtered to start and turned down the alley and you stood there all alone again.

///

The next few nights went by in a blur. Texas was hot, Colorado was pretty, Oregon could have been fun, but it wasn't. You allowed yourself no time to think or feel or wonder. You focused solely on the music and getting off this God forsaken tour.

Kelsey went flying down the halls of a casino in Vegas when Ambrose tried to call him out for stealing money from you lot. It resulted in a physical altercation where the manager had your guitarist by the collar against a wall, but the staff security team broke it up and Ambrose slumped off to the lobby bar instead of responding when you asked if he was okay.

That night you stayed up late on the bus to Phoenix, staring at the screen of the telly mounted near the cabinets.

"You're doing that thing again." Zed appeared, looking down at you with tired eyes. "Where you stare a hole through whatever is in front of you."

"Yeah." You sighed. The drummer seemed to decide something, and moved to sit at your side- handing you the joint he'd been smoking. After a beat, he asked if you'd found any good lawyers. You mentioned that you in fact had. Sometime around Detroit, Brooke had phoned you with more information than you knew what to do with and a list of people rallied to help.

 Silence fell between the pair of you once more as a late-night show began to air. You halfheartedly listened to the host relay news updates while passing Zed's joint back and forth. And then a certain topic demanded your full-blown attention.

"Corroded Coffin announced a hiatus tonight, disappointing fans who'd recently been promised an upcoming tour." The late-night host made a joke about the metal groups fans being a bunch of softies. "Yeah, apparently, lead singer Eddie Munson checked himself into rehab for a whole year..." Whatever joke that crackled through the screen next was lost on you, as your eyes brimmed, full of pride and fear. Proud for how Eddie was being public now about his absence from the scene. And fearful for what was next to come. 

A lot could happen in a year. A lot needed to happen in a year. But what if it didn't go how, you all hoped? What if your attempt to hold Kelsey accountable backfired? What if you were never able to get free? What if Eddie found a nice girl down the hall from whatever room he booked and forgot all about how badly he said he wanted a real shot with you? 

"We'll still be friends, right?" Zed pipped up, taking the joint from your grasp and passing you a stray tissue instead. "Way less codependent? More morally supportive?" 

"I'd like that, yeah." You sniffled and smiled to the drummer whose presence had been a surprising safe place for you through this whole mess. You thanked him for being there and for understanding the time and place for your vice driven alliance had come to a close. But after a newly born secret hand shake it was decided that you'd still be glad to call each other a friend.

///

L.A. 1986 -

The holidays fast approached by the end of that tour. Your Christmas was shrouded by legal documents. Kelsey hadn't spoken to you since you'd served him those papers. He didn't even look your way in the court room. 

When the new year kicked in, you spent most weekends visiting Eddie in rehab. You'd play a round of cards and tell him how good he looked and listen as he spoke about how much better he felt too. You each dreamed of life after he got out. Movie dates and song writing sessions. You each parted ways with a well-meaning embrace and sometimes a small kiss or two. 

While awaiting the verdict to your case against Kelsey, you declined your labels deal for a new album. You phoned Brooke instead and asked her to book you a trip to Hawaii. You started packing that night, unsure when you'd leave or for how long. But your trust in Brooke's ability to work miracles remained steadfast. So when your phone clattered and you answered to the sound of her voice, you weren't surprised by the glee in her tone. 

"Do you want the good news or the bad news first?" She asked. Her question faltered your grin and opened the pit in your stomach. Hadn't she just said hello cheerfully as ever? 

"Uh-" 

"The bad news is that old house you wanted me to rent again is no longer available. I can't book it for you." Brooke interrupted, voice flat and tone descending.

"Oh, I see." You shrugged, not half as hopeless as you'd expected to be by her bad news. You expected much worse. But you were pretty bummed. That home was the only one you had in mind, the only space you imagined finding true peace in for your planned getaway. The only home on your mind since you'd left it. You and Eddie had so much fun there. Sure, there were moments filled with awkward silence and questionable decisions made there too. But that little Hawaiian home had your heart damn it.

"But the good news is, it's for sale. And I asked them to hold off on accepting offers until I called you." Brooke rushed to inform. Oh. Now this was very good news indeed. You asked a couple times if she was joking. You knew she wouldn't do that. But you just couldn't believe you had an opportunity much grander and more promising ahead of you. Potentially more than a suitcase to pack.

Without any hesitation you formed a plan. Two days later Brooke sat next to you on a plane, a bundle of hundreds in hand and every pair of fingers crossed. You rented a chic little motel room for one night, and abandon your things there soon as they hit the shelves. You had a house to go buy. 

It all happened so fast. You made an offer any relator would be a fool to refuse, cash in hand. In the matter of an hour and a half meeting, you were signing your name on a dotted line and being handed the keys to a door you'd opened a few times before. It was yours. It was all yours now.

Brooke took you to dinner to celebrate. You bought her desert and asked her what more you could do as thanks. She had done so much for you, more than she ought to have done. The stunning woman shook her head and smiled and reminded you friends didn't owe friends anything. All she cared to ask of you was to make this year better than the last. To see you happier would be enough thanks for Brooke.

The flight back to L.A. was surreal. You spent it planning paint colors and writing a list of movers to call and dates to settle. 

And as soon as your plans were solid and your bags were packed, another weekend rolled around. It was time to see Eddie again. You drove to the rehab in the middle of nowhere and felt something like melancholy weighing in your gut. Something bittersweet in the back of your throat. Things were never going to be the same. 

 The halls were bright white, sunlight making the tile floor shimmer. Residents you'd come to recognize pursed polite smiles your way as you turned corners to find Eddie. You knew where he would be. At the picnic tables in the garden. Maybe with a book in hand. Maybe with a pencil. 

Today, he was sitting amongst the sprawling green grounds alone, a magazine on the table before him. It was closed. As you approached you recognized the Rolling Stone font across the glossy page, looking up to find Eddie staring a hole through the cover. 

"You gotta turn the pages with your hands babe, won't open otherwise." You remarked, stepping through the grass to see Eddie grinning up at you. He was more despondent today than he had been your past few visits. He waited till you sat at his side, resting your head on his shoulder as an affectionate hello. 

"Apparently there is a pretty scathing write up about me in here. One of the first since I paused the band to come here." Eddie voiced, letting one of his big hands rest on your thigh. His rings were missing, and his other usual regalia too. The grey hoodie he wore suited him well, you thought, with his pulled back hair. He looked very clean, in every sense.

"You don't have to read it if you're not ready." You reminded, lifting your head to face the man at your side. He left his hand resting on your leg as he bit his lip and looked to you too. "Or I could read it to you?" 

Eddie shook his head.

"It's time I start facing some facts, ya know? Start doing the hard work of facing what I have to change now that I'm sober enough too." Eddie sighed. He'd spent the past few months getting well, letting his body and mind recover. The next step was to grow. To start molding himself into the version he came here seeking help to rebuild. It was time for the hard part. The part he never got to in rehab before.

"I messed a lot of shit up." Eddie nodded, letting his eyes fall away from yours. "I should have done a lot of things differently. Especially with you." 

"Babe, it's okay. You don't have to do this." You assured, reaching out to smooth your hand over his shoulder. You had never held anything that happened against him. 

"I know we both kind of got roped into a weird and shitty situation. But I could have handled it so much better. You deserved so much more respect than I gave you. And that last night. You never should have had to take care of me like that. I shouldn't have gone that far off the deep end," Eddie sighed, letting his eyes well with tears, sniffing them away as he apologized for it all. You brushed away a loose strand of his hair and shook your head. 

"S'okay, Eddie. We were both just taking those days as they came. We did what we thought we needed to, to get by. It's okay."

As you pulled the guy in for a hug, Eddie fell into your frame without hesitation, burying his head in your neck. You held him there for a moment muttering something about how proud you were that he was doing his best to be better.

"Can I tell you something, now?" You wondered, smoothing Eddies hair as he pulled away to lock his dark eyes with yours. He smiled, when he noticed you were already grinning. When he nodded, you drew in a breath and said,

"I asked Brooke to book me a trip to Hawaii. You know how stressful the past few months have been. Hell, the past year." You began. Eddie nodded along. "She found that same little place we stayed in for our honeymoon." You rose your fingers to curl into air quotes around the last word of  your sentence. Eddie huffed a laugh before speaking up. 

"You loved it there. So did I. So you're staying there again?" Eddie beamed. So did you. 

"It was no longer available to rent." You revealed, watching Eddie's brow furrow. "Because it was for sale. So I bought it. And I'm moving there. Like now. Like after I leave here." Your smile was so wide it nearly ached your cheeks. Eddie was shocked, brows shooting up, mouth hanging open, palms held out before you. You took his hands and nodded to assure you weren't fibbing. 

"Oh my God." Eddie gasped. "This is perfect. I'm so happy for you." He wrapped you in another embrace, planting his lips to your cheek as you started yammering about plans to paint and furniture to buy and an open door policy Eddie was allowed to mind at all times. Eddie watched as you rambled, his grin flattening a little, until his lips were bitten together and his brows pushed togeteher. 

"What is it..." You stopped listing plans and straightened your posture to watch as Eddie sucked in a deep breath. Seeming to choose his words, you tried to remain patient, ignoring the pit in your stomach threatening to grow.

"I can't have you read me this Rolling Stone article because I need to do it on my own." Eddie spoke decidedly. "I can't come visit you in Hawaii. I can't-" Eddie shuddered a breath. "I know we aren't really together. But I need to be really alone, for a while. I need to deal with my own shit, ya know?" Eddie's voice shook as he explained himself, bouncing his knee and moving his eyes from yours to his lap. The void in your stomach widened exponentially. 

You wanted to argue back, remind him what he said the night you slept together last. How he said he wanted to be with you. But you couldn't be so selfish. You unfortunately understood where he was coming from. You swallowed your despair and nodded.

"Okay. Yeah, I understand Ed."

"I'm sorry. I lo-" Eddie blinked up to the sky and shook his head. "I'm sorry."

A moment of heavy silence swirled between you, as you made the hard choice to be okay with this, at least in the moment. Then you looked up with a grimace of a smile. 

"Can I still write to you? I'd like to still write to you." You declared, watching Eddie work to find composure. 

"I'd like that too." He breathed, forcing a smile. "I'm still happy for you." He assured, his voice thick with emotion. 

"And I'm still proud of you." You smiled, and you meant it.

///

Hawaii 1987 -

Another holiday season was fast approaching. And this year you had every opportunity to celebrate. You bought a little faux tree and put it by the fireplace. You decorated the big kitchen windows with garland and let Christmas vinyl's spin from the record player in the guest room. 

The little Hawaiian home was clean and cozy and decorated just the way you liked. Since moving in, fresh paint brightened the walls. Old familiar photos hung there too. A few miscellaneous tour posters and three platinum records the only memorabilia you held on to from the past four years.

On the kitchen counter was an offer from your record label you were still mulling over. The year off and away from Hollywood was a refreshing and much needed break for your sanity. Creativity seemed to flow more freely all the while. You definitely had music in mind to record. You just weren't sure if you were ready.

You liked the life you had here. The mornings you spent milling about the markets down the block. The friends you made of your neighbors. The quiet. 

You missed your old life too, though. More than you thought you would have. You missed making music and singing for crowds. You missed dressing up and going out. The closest to a wild night out you had since moving here was when Brooke surprised you one summer weekend. She stayed at your insistence and took you to the finest restaurant on the Island and gossiped for two days and three nights straight. And when you asked about Eddie, she said he missed you. She said he kept your rarely exchanged letters on his coffee table. She said you should call him. But you couldn't. You wanted to respect his space. To allow him all the room he needed to grow into sobriety and into the new version of himself he was anxious to learn about.

But Brooke wouldn't answer when you asked if you should get back in the studio soon. She said only you could know the right answer to that question. So you mulled it over from then until now. Teetering closer to calling back your label every day, eager to agree to record something. 

And then it was Christmas time.

It would've felt lonely if you let it. But you'd worked too hard on finding hope in the dullness, this year. You worked too hard finding peace in the quiet, this year. You reminded yourself to relish the home you got to call your own. How you truly felt you belonged here. You marveled over how fate handed you these house keys. You smiled when you remembered how you'd come to fall in love here, in more ways than one. 

Then there was a knock at the door.

Mulling toward the front of your home, you expected a delivery or two. You'd ordered gifts for your neighbors this year, and some for yourself too of course. You were determined to have a happy fucking holiday.

But the man at your door was more of a gift than you'd asked for, this year. 

Eddie was there, grinning wide, wringing his hands. His hair was a little longer, the longest you'd ever seen it. His frame was toned, his face was full of warm color and his eyes were bright and clear. He was a vision. He was so damn beautiful.

"What's all this?" You smiled, letting a laugh of surprise escape your lips. 

"Surprise? I hope I'm not intruding." Eddie rose a hopeful brow, his dark deep eyes peering into yours for the first time in too damn long.

"Shut the fuck up and come inside you fool." You smiled and widened the doorway, stepping aside so Eddie could enter. Your heart hammered at the sight of him, your soul buzzed to life at the realization that he was here, he was really fucking here.

"Just like old times, aye?" Eddie grinned, letting his gaze float across the home he'd discovered with you, a year ago. 

"Hopefully not." You noted, crossing your fingers this visit led to a more positive and promising outcome than your last time together in this home. Eddie laughed and asked how you were liking it, complimenting the changes you'd made since last he saw.

You rambled for a bit about a particularly hard renovation and another story about how perfectly another came together. Then you asked if he was hungry. It was almost dinner time. 

Before you knew it, you were mixing up your famous pasta sauce to the tune of Eddie's story telling. He made you laugh so hard you cried, and nearly burnt yourself stumbling to catch your breath near the oven. He ate your dinner with gratitude and answered your questions about how his life had been going. Eddie spoke about a tiny apartment and a sparse kitchen and an empty schedule. Eddie admitted it had been hard, but that he was finally in a place he felt he had control over. Eddie helped you clean up and let you make some hot cocoa's because it was the damn season.

You led Eddie to the living room, warm mugs in hand, rambling back and forth about the year you'd spent apart. You spoke about making new friends and considering calling your label back. You mentioned how much you missed him, like a lot.

"You're not mad I'm here?" Eddie cautioned, setting his mug on the coffee table and turning to face you. He rested an elbow on the back of the sofa and his head in his hand.

"Why would I be mad, Eddie?" Your mind boggled, unable to consider feeling anything besides unbridled glee at the mere thought of the man's presence.

"Because last time I saw you, I said I couldn't come here. And now I've just invited myself over all of a sudden. I'll understand if-"

"No, I'm not mad. I didn't think you'd never show up. Maybe that's the hopeless romantic in me." You shrugged, smiled and dipped your chin toward your shoulder, trying to hide your embarrassed blush.

"Romanic, eh?" 

"I never stopped loving you, Eddie." Your voice was a whisper. Eddies eyes burned into yours. His gaze was full of desire you recalled rising up in him before. His gaze was full of adoration you remembered him expressing. His dark chestnut gaze was familiar and warm and so nice to stare back into after too damn long.

"Okay I'm gonna say something, then. You can kick me out after this. But I'm gonna say it, okay?" Eddie seemed to decide. 

"O-okay."

"In rehab I did a lot of thinking about the past. What I fucked up. What I lost. But when I got out, I started to realize I had forever in front of me. And there was so much I still had the opportunity to fix and change. And I realized there was no version of forever I want to spend without you. I know this is like... the third time we've come to this crossroad but..." 

Suddenly Eddie was sliding off the sofa and kneeling before you on one knee. Suddenly, he was reaching in his pocket. Suddenly you were staring at a ring. The stone was tigers eye and the band was gold. It was what you tried to pick out all that time ago.

"I'm a mess." Eddie proclaimed "I cannot promise to make your life better. but I can promise I want to be a part of your life. I want to marry you. Actually this time."

"For real?" You gasped a chuckle, sniffing away the spring of tears that clouded your vision from focusing on every little detail of this perfect fucking moment.

"Very much for real. No contracts. No reason besides the fact that I love you." 

You were nodding, holding out your left hand and struggling to suck in a breath before you could say yes a dozen times in a row. The space in your stomach where despair often bloomed was now only full of hope and assurance and calm. The space on your finger that had been left bare since your tossed that ugly diamond ring into the ocean was now perfectly fitted with the jewel of your dreams. The space in front of you was now taken up by Eddie. And he was finally all yours.

///

New York 1988-

"So after Kelsey went to prison and Eddie got out of rehab and moved to Hawaii with me, we got lawfully married, got a dog, helped each other rediscover music."

"The release of your new album suggests you and Eddie are a duo now. Do either of you plan on making solo records again?"

"I don't." Eddie chimed in, finally settling at your side in the booth with a fresh soda in hand. "I'm too unhinged without her around. Plus, she clearly makes music better. It's because of her touch we won album of the year. We probably lost to Paul Simon in 86' because there was too much of my misguided influence on Steel and Stone." Eddie laughed and you shook your head. 

"Don't discredit yourself."

"Will there be a coin toss to decide who gets to keep the Grammy?" Rolling Stone chuckled.

"We'll probably keep it on the mantel where we both can see."

After that interview ended, Brooke picked you both up from the lounge and let you stay in her loft until your flight back to the Island was due the next morning. You didn't wake her when the both of you got up and snuck off. But you left a letter on her counter, explaining that she deserved an award for putting up with the pair of you after all this time. So, you left the Grammy on her counter too. ///

Hawaii 1990- You opened the front door with one hand and balanced a bag of produce with the other. The man at that bodega at the edge of town was still selling veggies from his garden. Even though he walked with a cane now he'd manage his way to sell you produce for half price every weekend. 

You breezed through your home, toward the kitchen where you rested your bags on the counter next to a radio that had been left on. Right on cue, Eddie made his way in from out back, dripping ocean water on the rug you put down to protect the hardwood floors. 

"Wanna come out there with me while the waves are still calm?" He wondered, finding a towel and kissing your cheek as a morning greeting. You'd been brave enough recently to wade in the water a little deeper than ever before, with Eddie at your side, and only when the tide was calm. 

"I'm making breakfast now," You waved off your husbands offer, catching a glimpse of your tiger eye ring in the sun rays through the window curtains.

"Then I'll help." Eddie smiled, stealing the tomatoes you were in the process of washing clean. He took the food to begin prepping and turned up the radio on his way, a song you'd both written played. You watched as Eddie helped make your meal and listened as he sang to you and thanked God for the music that made it possible for your paths to cross and connect together. 

What you might write next together was just as an exciting thought as what the pair of you might watch on the telly later. Life was easy to find love within when Eddie really clearly loved the hell out of you. This house felt like a home with him in it. Eddie was finally home... and so were you.

///

[lizardkingeliot]

Congrats on your freedom from the mess!

I'm having a craving to read a scene where Louis is defending Lestat to someone. I'm not particular about the context but I hope that we'll get some "that's my husband and only I can talk shit about him" energy from Louis in the show too. But I'd settle for a few hundred words from you! ❤️

Okay. So. When I started writing this I challenged myself to keep it under 500 words and... lmao. Well. It ended up being almost 1500. Because of course. But ANYWAY I hope you're here for some Rockstar Lestat and Photographer Louis because that's what this ended up being. The urge to turn this into a longer fic is STRONG but I'm resisting for now. After I finish my current wip I might come back to it and fill it out and pop it up on AO3. IDK... we'll see lol.

Anyway I'm sticking most of this under a cut. Thank you for this lovely prompt and I hope you enjoy it!

—

Louis emerged from the dressing room first. Leaned against the wall outside the door and started fiddling with his camera. Checking over the pictures he’d taken just moments ago. Lestat—a ring of vanity lights like a halo around the mirror behind him. Lestat—purple leather pants, lime green crop top, the word Slut scrawled in sparkly cursive on the chest. Lestat—golden hair gleaming in the artificial light. Eyes on the camera, on Louis where he stood a safe distance away beyond the lens. Pink mouth slightly parted just so, just so…

Lestat walked out not a minute after Louis and was instantly surrounded by a horde of people. His tour manager, his agent, Daniel Molloy, a handful of nondescript faces attached to bodies Louis didn’t know. Lestat scowled and waved them all away from him at once, muttering his annoyance under his breath in French.

Lestat’s whole body swayed as he walked. Pants sitting low on his hips. Hips like weapons, swell of his ass like a homing beacon. And Louis almost forced himself to look away when Lestat stopped, and turned back. And met Louis’ gaze across the distance. His eyes lined in smudgy black lighting up in exactly the way they’d been when Louis viewed him through the lens of his camera moments ago. Mouth quirking up in a secret smile meant for Louis and Louis alone.

Louis smiled back, couldn’t help it. Stomach doing some truly impressive acrobatics when Lestat turned away and disappeared in the direction of the stage. He was grateful for the wall for reminding his body to stay upright. He forced a breath, was just about to turn his eyes back to his camera when the muffled conversation two roadies were having over by the loading bay invaded his senses.

“Did you see what he’s wearing now?” Roadie Number One asked with a self-satisfied little laugh. The sound of it was instantly grating. It was such a pompously human sound. “For fuck’s sake, man.”

“Like I said before,” Roadie Number Two offered in a casual, gravelly tone. One hand on a flight case, the other fiddling with the cigarette he had tucked behind his ear. “The whole fruit basket, that one. Talk about shoving it in your face.”

Louis tipped his head to one side. Watched them both with big unblinking eyes as they started moving down the hall in the direction of the stage. His pulse beating slow and steady inside him. Moving the blood through his veins at a calculating, almost predatory pace.

—

After the show, backstage was the usual chaos. A sea of people and their sounds. Lestat’s team, his band, his groupies. Equipment being rushed back out the way it had come in. And though Louis had been standing just off stage and watched with his own two eyes as Lestat made his exit following his second encore. Had snapped one final picture in the split second before Lestat passed by and their hands—very intentionally, on Lestat’s part at least—brushed together. Suddenly, Lestat was nowhere to be found.

Louis screwed the lens from his camera, tucked everything away in his case and slung the strap over his shoulder. The moment he lifted his head, he saw them. Roadie One and Roadie Two. And hunger grumbled deep inside him. And it dawned on Louis all at once that he’d been so busy tonight he hadn’t actually fed.

He could have just let it go. He should have. Human beings—what did they matter? But Lestat wasn’t around and the thought that he was off with some groupie getting his dick wet pissed him off just enough for the hunger to spur him forward. He moved without even thinking to, and in a blink he was standing in front of Roadie Number Two. Crowding him against the flight case he’d been hauling. So close their noses nearly touched.

“Hello,” Louis said. Roadie Two’s eyes went wide as two big moons. “I have a question for you—”

“Hey, man, what the f—”

Louis choked off the man’s voice with a thought at once. Vampiric power working like a hand around his throat.

“Don’t be rude when your elders are speaking.” Louis took a single calculated step back. Roadie Two was trembling in his black jeans. Louis didn’t even have to hold him in place. Frozen with terror, the man couldn’t move. And Louis grinned. “Now—my question. And I do think you of all people can help me with this one.”

Louis listened to the tangle of thoughts in his head. A litany of curses. An endless slew of fear and dark and what the fuck what the fuck. People were rushing all around them. Louis thought, distantly—maybe—that Daniel was saying his name.

“Do you happen to know where I might find a fruit basket in this city?”

Louis laughed, a dark and wobbling sound. The hunger had him by the belly. He had to fight against his fangs to keep them from popping out.

There were tears in Roadie Two’s wide moon eyes that didn’t blink. He found the strength to reach up with one hand and paw uselessly at his own throat. Thick rasping sounds falling out of it as he fought against the Dark Gift’s suppression of his breath.

Louis laughed again.

“Yeah,” Louis said, and tipped his head to one side. And watched the artery throb with blood on the side of the roadie’s thick neck. “That’s what I thought. Not so easy to get those smartass words of yours out now, is it? You know, next time maybe you should try sayin’ that shit to—”

“Louis.”

Lestat. Behind him. Heartbeat like a siren. Warm, gushing sound of life like a song inside his veins. Louis’ mind stumbled over itself for a fraction of a second and he lost his hold on Roadie Two’s throat. And the man crumbled down to his knees in a coughing fit in an instant.

“Louis,” Lestat said again. And Louis spun around. And—

Smudged eyeliner. Pink mouth. Golden hair skimming bare shoulders. At some point between the stage and right then, Lestat had lost his shirt.

“Lestat.” Louis straightened his neck, gripped the strap of his camera case just to have something to hold onto. His heart was beating wildly in his chest and he knew Lestat could hear it. “Hey, uh, so—”

“Cheri, I know you’re hungry, but I believe it would be ill-advised to eat the roadies.”

Louis drew a breath, huffed it out, distantly aware that Roadie Two was half-crawling, half-running away behind him. “Wasn’t gonna eat him. Just—” He huffed another breath. “And please don’t call me—”

“You were sticking up for me.”

Smudged eyeliner. Blue eyes shining in those messy rings of black. Louis’ heartbeat was a kick pedal drum inside his chest.

“Just didn’t care for his tone, is all.” Louis tried for casual, but the words came out all wrong. Like suddenly he was the one being choked. “He said—”

“I know what he said, cheri.” One corner of Lestat’s mouth twitched, amused and annoyed all at once. “Excusez-moi—Louis.” Head tipped to one side. Eyes sweeping appraisingly over Louis’ face, down to his chest. Blue eyes limned in so much black. “They always say these things. The two of them. Like school boys. They cannot help that they are wildly attracted to me.”

At that—Louis instantly started to laugh. “You’re unbelievable, you know that?”

Smudged eyeliner. Leaning close. Lestat put his hand on Louis’ shoulder. “Well, yes,” he said very quietly. Voice a husky rumble pouring from his throat. “That is what they tell me.”

Warm breath on Louis’ neck. Lestat pulled back, and all the people rushing around them suddenly melted away. And it was just the two of them. And there was a glint in Lestat’s eyes like he’d just won a game neither of them had even realized they were playing. Or that they’d both been playing with their whole chests, and now their chests were caving in. And the game was over.

And Lestat was clutching the prize with both hands.

And Louis was going to let him have it.

“Yeah, so—anyway.” Louis took a slow, deep breath. Slowly, slowly let it come rushing back out. He begged his heart to stop selling him out and to settle. “I’m starving. You wanna hunt?”

Smudged eyeliner. Pink mouth falling open with just the tiniest hint of his fangs poking out. “I would love to hunt with you, cheri,” Lestat said.

[taintedcigs]

𝐓𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐔𝐄 𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐃彡

rockstar!steddie x reader

summary: dating two rockstars is fun, except when you get caught breaking their rules, and your punishment ends up in the form of some festive fun — tied up with christmas lights.

warnings: smut smut smut, minors DNI, p in v, creampie, unprotected (wrap it up irl im so serious), spanking, punishment?, daddy kink (but its so very light do not look at me im so seriously embarrassed), oral (m receiving, good old bj), kinda rough, dom/sub dynamics, mean!dom!eddie, mean!dom!steve no use of ‘y/n’, degrading, praises, nicknames!

authors note: the banner thingy of this is making me laugh i tried ok. graphic design is my PASSION.

Taming brats. 

That was something Eddie was really fucking good at. 

Expert even, especially after he started dating you. And once Steve was thrown into the mix, you were unstoppable.

Acting out more than usual, being a teasing little slut.

It all happened with a drunken night out after their show, three-way kissing, and hours of making each other cum led to one realization; the three of you worked perfectly, and you and your boyfriend were more than okay to open up the relationship to Steve. 

To Steve it was all so exciting, this new dynamic, the fun stuff the three of you tried, the punishments, the edging, the overstimulation, all the new kinks, intrigued him to no end. Yet, Steve still had one problem; he wasn’t that good at being a dominant. 

Whether it was him apologizing to you and not being able to fully punish you, him letting you be bratty, or him letting some of your actions go unpunished just because you looked at him all prettily. 

It wasn’t that he didn’t like being a dominant, he did, he really fucking did. So much so that he was doing everything he could to not fuck it up and make you and Eddie proud.  

It was that he was just very new to this, while Eddie had his fair share of kinky sex stories, and so did you, all Steve had were some hookups here and there, the groupies he had weren’t that interesting; the wildest thing he ever did was some dirty talk, and maybe getting his dick sucked at a public bathroom. This was a brand new territory he was trying to get adjusted to. 

The two of you were more than okay with helping him adjust to it all. Eddie loved teaching Steve about you and your body, what you enjoyed, what made you squirm, what made you instantly cum and of course; how exactly to punish you the right way. It all sounded perfect as an idea, but Steve could never execute it well. 

Whether it was because of those puppy eyes you did, or the whines that he drew from your mouth anytime he tried to put you in your place, or the begging and the sweet-talking, Steve didn’t have it in his heart to go all the way, which earned him the ‘soft daddy’ tittle you giggly called him all the time. 

So, Eddie wanted to teach him how to do it properly, in a way that was enjoyable and comfortable for all three of you, clearly, he knew you better than Steve did, and he knew his sort of punishments were always something you took pleasure out of, so he wanted to show Steve that, make him realize how good it made you feel, and how the dynamic truly worked. 

And this was the perfect time to show him, especially when you broke one of the most important rules. 

Steve sat on the edge of the bed with his arms crossed against his chest, disappointed, angrier than you ever saw him, you with your head drooped low and your hands behind your back, and Eddie with that goddamned smirk on his lips leaning against the wall, tilting your chin upwards with a tut. 

You were naked, fingers still coated with your juices, a slight guilt flashing across your eyes​​—but not really. Because you wanted to be caught, you wanted this punishment. Wanted the attention. 

Especially when both of them were so busy with work since New Year’s was coming up. They were either at gigs or at the studio, not even letting you come with them because you were ‘too distracting’.  

So, once again when they left for the studio, you had an idea. An idea that would surely bring out a mean punishment, yet the best pleasure. 

The second you heard the door getting unlocked, you were naked, laying on the bed, turning on your vibrator, knowing that once you let out a few slight gasps, the two of them would end up in the room, and all of their attention would be on you. 

“Eds, I swear I—I didn’t even cum!” You muttered with a whine. 

Eddie barked out a chuckle, mocking you. “That doesn’t mean shit, baby, rules are rules.”

“Steve!” You whined all brattily, turning to him with a pout, expecting to earn some sympathy from him, because you always did. Yet, there was something different this time, a darkness his gaze didn’t possess until now, you’d be lying if it didn’t make you rub your thighs together in excitement. 

“Don’t think you can try to get out of this one by sweet-talking me doll, not gonna work,” Steve mumbled, the nickname rolling off his tongue with all the pent-up anger. 

“Now we have to punish you.” He narrowed his gaze, making you swallow. Shit, he’d have to cave eventually, right? Because this was Steve. 

“And I’m sure, that’s what you wanted, isn’t it? Our attention?” You don’t answer, knowing that anything coming from your mouth could get you more into trouble, and Eddie scoffed at the state of you, that devilish grin playing on his lips. 

“Steve, honey, can you get those Christmas lights?” He asked sweetly, a smile flashed his way, and nothing but a scowl flashed yours. 

“L—lights?” You asked with a pout. Fuck, lights meant trouble, because you hated how tight they were, and you hated not being able to touch them. 

“Yeah, have to bring out the big guns, you’ve been so bratty lately. Such a shame too, because you were doing so good honey, when was the last time you were all tied up?” He quizzed mockingly, face inches away from yours. 

“I don’t remember.” You mumbled.

“Aha, that’s why we need it back, and so that I can teach Steve how to tie our little slut up, isn’t that right?” As if on cue, Steve came back with a grin, the long string of Christmas lights in his embrace. 

“Thank you, baby,” Eddie hummed excitedly, pressing a harsh kiss on Steve’s lips, flushing his cheeks a salmon pink, before he made a show of the strings of light, wrapping it around his hand, and grinning while he made his way over to you. 

Steve sat on the edge of the bed again, and Eddie motioned toward you. “Lie down on Steve’s lap, face down.” With a quick huff, you obeyed, crawling over his lap, making a show of it as you wiggled your ass in the air, enjoying the low hisses from both men. 

“Arms behind your back, slut,” He hisses, and you’re quick to obey, crossing your arms over your back, watching as he plugs the lights into the outlet, a grin overtaking his face as they light up. 

He stretches them forward before he begins tying you up, twisting them around your arms, making sure your wrists are steadily restrained, before he loops them around your hips and your legs, making sure it has a tight hold on you. 

“Look how pretty you look like this.” He grins, watching the way the Christmas lights illuminate your skin as he lands a harsh smack on your bare flesh, and you yelp dramatically over it, skin burning with the impact. You try your best not to giggle, not to make him know that you’re enjoying this, because you want the punishment to be over as soon as possible. 

You need to cum. And you know Eddie can, and will edge you till’ however long he wants, so as much fun as it is to be a brat, you need to behave, for these next ten minutes, or try to seduce Steve in some way, you knew he tried to be tough, but you always managed to break him. 

Eddie kneels next to you, while Steve squeezes your ass, his cock stirring more and more you whimper for him. “Steve’s gonna spank you five times,” Eddie taunts with a grin, and you nod, trying to ignore the flutters in your stomach the more you feel Steve’s grabby hands. 

“That is unless you want some more?” Eddie challenges with a raise of his brow.

“N—no!” 

“Good girl,” he praises, and fuck, does that make your stomach instantly tumble. 

“Make it rough, Steve, she enjoys that shit,” he spits, fingers teasingly dancing around your shoulder. 

“She sees you as her soft daddy, she thinks you can’t really punish her, you gotta show her that you own her, too,” Eddie mocks with a slight grin, enjoying the way Steve’s gaze is overblown with lust now. 

“Is that right, honey?” Steve hisses, all mean and biting. Something you haven’t seen to this length, something that was making you so intrigued that you could barely speak. 

“Nuh-uh,” you hummed, head dipped into the couch, before Steve had a harsh grip on your chin, making you face him. Chocolate gaze growing darker, and pupils blown wide. 

“Need you to count for me, honey, can you do that?” You nodded, quick and obedient, and Steve was starting to understand how good it felt, to have you surrender to him, his cock stirring at your doe-eyes. 

His hand raises in the air, the smack of it much softer than Eddie’s, but still rough enough that you feel the sting, a warm feeling overtaking your flesh, causing you to yelp at the unexpected intrusion. 

“You can be rougher, baby,” Eddie encourages, enjoying that pure hunger in Steve’s amber hues, and he’s quick to nod. 

“I thought you said you could count, slut. Is that pretty little head of yours so full with the thought of our cocks that you forgot to count all of a sudden, doll?” The nicknames roll off his lips like a warning, tone so coarse that you immediately tense up, apologetic gaze meeting his dark ones.

“S—sorry, Stevie,” you muttered, his sudden dominance making your body tremble, and your cheeks flush with heat. “O—one.” 

“That wasn’t so hard now, was it?” He coos, hand smoothing over your reddened skin, reveling the way you shudder under his touch. 

He spanks you again, and another yelp falls out of your lips, this time much harder than before, you can fully feel the pain, and Eddie watches the two of you in awe.

“Two.” 

His hand gropes your ass again, massaging over your heated skin, and once again, harsh smack lands on your marked-up flesh, much rougher, but easing the second he carefully traces over it. 

“T—three,” you mutter, moaning into the pillows your head was smushed in. 

You feel another hand join Steve’s, but your attempts to look up at Eddie are turned down when he tuts, “Focus on your punishment.” 

His fingers are teasing as they make their way up to your trembling thighs, drawing whiney breaths from you. He uses his index fingers to spread you apart, both him and Steve groaning at the sight of your puffy clit. 

His fingers find their way inside of you, earning shaky moans while you try to push yourself back onto him, to have more, to feel that fullness, and all Steve does is chuckle at you, at how pathetic you want them both, rutting against Eddie’s fingers while you moan. 

And just as you’re about to beg for more, beg to have both of their cocks, two harsh slaps land on your ass, one on both cheeks, the two boys grinning devilishly as they watch the way their handprints mark your ass. 

“Four,” you mumble, words scrambled together when all you want is more from them, the mocking making you wetter and wetter. Especially when Steve is being all mean for the first time.

“You didn’t think it’d be that easy, sweetheart, did you?” Steve mocks with a pout, and you moan into the pillow again. 

Steve kneads your sensitive skin, while Eddie’s fingers are still inside of you, your ass is burning, but it feels so good that you can’t help the whines that leave your mouth. 

“Such a fuckin’ slut for us, aren’t ya? Soaking my fingers just for being spanked, told you she likes it rough, Stevie.” Eddie pushes his fingers fully inside of your walls, thumb toying with your clit, so agonizingly slow that you bite down on the pillow, incoherent babbles leaving your lips. 

You need this punishment to be over so that you can have both of them, it’s so pathetically overwhelming and teasing that you don’t even realize what you’re begging for, just when you’re about to push back on his fingers again, the roughest slap comes, and you cry out at the impact. 

You’re sure your ass is practically burning now, but it feels so good that you’ve basically already melted into the sheets, body feeling frail with how turned on you really are. And, thankfully this was the last.

“Five!” You wail out with excitement filling your tummy, Eddie’s fingers slip outside of you with that, you’re too fucked out to register any of it, the pain subsiding and fast to turn into pleasure when Steve is kneading your firey flesh, it has you feeling so painfully empty that you’re looking at Steve with pouty lips and a desperate gaze. 

“Good girl,” Steve praises, pressing a sloppy kiss on your bruised skin, and you whimper at the cold feeling, cheeks fluttering at the much needed praise. 

“N—need more, please,” you mutter, it’s a long shot, and by the way they’ve both been so mean, you knew neither their teasing nor the punishment was going to end soon. But, fuck, were you desperate. 

Steve barks out a laugh, it’s evil, and just as mocking as you’d expect, but not from Steve. Eddie looks almost as surprised, but so very proud, because both of you want this dynamic to work, and for Steve to be in this as much as the two of you are, and it looks like it’s finally working. 

“So fuckin’ mouthy today, aren’t ya?” He coaxed, picking you up to roll you over to the bed, hands grabby before he turned to Eddie. 

“I think we should put those pretty lips to use, baby, what do y’think?” Steve quipped, gazing at Eddie with the need for approval, and Eddie’s cock stirred at the both of you. 

Steve submitting to him, still taking a bit of control to dominate you. Fuck, this was exactly what he wanted. 

“Get on all fours for your daddies, pretty girl,” Steve hummed, leaving a playful smack on your already marked-up ass while you yelped, pussy clenching around on nothing. 

“Do you know how fucking hot you are when you order her around like this?” Eddie groaned, his hand gathering curls at the nape of his neck, gripping it tightly to pull him in for a kiss, all teeth, and no mercy. Greedily sucking at each other’s tongues, ignoring all of your squirming. 

You’re so unbelievably wet and you need something, anything. Seeing the two boys kiss is not doing you any good, so you just mewl with such desperation that both of them break apart from the kiss with a dark gaze. 

“I said all fours,” Steve hisses, but you pout, struggling to stand while your hands are tied behind your back, and your body is wrapped around the lights, making your skin glow in the best way possible. 

“Aww, can’t do it on your own, sweetheart?” Eddie taunts with a pout, and you’re quick to nod. 

“You need our help, baby?”

“P—please,” you muttered, almost embarrassed.

“You want your daddies to fill all your holes is that it, slut?” You nodded vigorously. 

“Don’t be a fuckin’ brat, speak up,” Steve chimed in. 

“Y—yes, please, please I need both of you, need both of you to fuck me, please—” your rambling was cut off by Eddie’s dark chuckle. 

“God, so fuckin’ desperate, should we give her what she wants, Stevie?” He nodded off toward Steve, a mocking pout on his lips. 

“I do want to punish her more… but I also need that pretty little mouth wrapped around my cock, she’s been too mouthy lately, don’t ya think, Munson?” Steve groaned loudly at the thought. 

“Mhmm, and I should fuck her pathetic little pussy, show her who really owns her, yea?” Eddie grinned toward you. 

“You definitely should, does she think she can make herself cum better than we do?” Steve asked tauntingly. 

“N—no I don’t! P—please need both of you s’bad, ‘m sorry, I won’t touch myself again, daddies, I promise,” you cried out, desperate, enough to have both of their cocks ache with the need to fuck you. 

“You’ll be sorry, sweetheart, we’ll make sure of it.” Both of them were quick to get rid of their clothes, joining you on the bed, Eddie holding you by your hips, and Steve steadying you by your shoulders, both sets of angry red tips facing your holes. Eagerness ignites a fire in your entire body. 

“God, I was going to stretch you out a little bit, but look at you sweetheart, practically gushin’ for me and we barely did anything.” Eddie grins, fingers toying with your soaked clit, and you whimper loudly, looking up at Steve with hooded eyes, excitedly waiting to get what you were promised for, your entire body feels like it’s on fire, everywhere they touch burns, and you want nothing more than to have them fuck you, anywhere and everywhere. 

Steve barely jerked his erected cock before he dragged it over your lips, smearing his beaded pre-cum all over, mixing with your gloss. Starving, you were quick to lick it all away, that salty taste coated your tongue and you hummed. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck. He almost lost it there and then.

“God, she’s soakin’ my fingers, Stevie.” Eddie moaned, relishing in the squelching sounds your pussy made the more his fingers entered inside of you.

“Please,” you whispered, desperately pushing back on his fingers, trying to get more. 

You turned your head as best as you could. “Please, daddy. Fuck me.” Your tone was sultry, making Eddie groan. 

“And, please, fuck my mouth daddy, I deserve it,” you muttered, this time faux innocent gaze at Steve’s, his mouth hanging open, eyes lulling as he looked down on you. 

With a slight groan, “Open up,” he ordered, and you opened your mouth eagerly, while he dragged his aching cock inside, watching the way you quickly wrapped your lips around his length, sucking on it greedily.

“Her mouth is heavenly, Munson, you need to fuck her while I’m fuckin’ her mouth,” Steve groaned loudly when you bobbed up and down. 

“Open her up, Eddie, really fuck her, use her like the little slut she is.” That was all the encouragement Eddie needed, his fingers left your hole with a slick sound, emptiness making you whine around Steve’s cock. 

You didn’t have much time, or even the space to complain with Steve’s cock hammered into your mouth. You couldn’t see Eddie but you could feel him shift behind you, his hot tip teasing against your entrance, pre-cum smearing all over your clit, making you whimper crazily around Steve’s cock, driving him further into a pleasure he didn’t know existed.

You were at your fucking limit. Only when the head of his cock teased against your slit that you let out a sigh of relief. He pushed his cock inside, the hold he had on your waist was bruisingly rough. 

He pushed and pushed his way inside, cock slipping easily through your soaked folds. 

Shit, shit, shit. 

It always amazed you how fucking big and thick he was, stretching you out in every way possible. 

His groans were guttural, and so were Steve’s, especially when his hands wrapped around your hair halting his cock into your mouth, realizing you were too fucked out to do it properly. 

“So sloppy when you get your holes filled,” Steve tutted, “fucking love it when you go all dumb on our cocks like this, such a perfect little cock sleeve for us, aren’t you? Just waiting to be used by your daddies, hmm?” He hummed, eyes stuck on you when he yanked you by your hair again, pumping his cock further into your mouth. 

You whimpered in an attempt to nod, crying out once Eddie pushed in deeper inside of you, cunt clamping around him and so very willing. Your pussy was his. 

And you felt full, so fucking full.

“Shit, shit, fuck! She’s so fuckin’ warm and tight, Steve.” Eddie grunted, voice ragged, his weight on top of you, as he poised all the way inside of you, and you tried your best to adjust to his cock. But, fuck, did he always stretch you out, make you feel all of him. 

“Jesus, baby, look how perfectly your holes are taking our cocks, it’s like you were made for us, huh?” Steve almost growled, fucking your mouth with ease while he enjoyed the way you gagged around his cock, tear-streaked cheeks, and looking up at him with those alluring eyes. 

All three of you were about to fucking lose it. It was all too much, all so fucking good, making your body feel like jelly while they manhandled you in the best way possible. 

He slammed into you rougher, not stopping until he was sure you were full of him, same with Steve, filling you all the way in. You felt achy in the best way possible, and their grunts sounded lewd and angelic at the same time. 

He pulled out and slammed back in. Just as brutal but his hips picked up speed, the more he fucked into you, the more you took Steve into your mouth. Creating the perfect harmony between the three of you. 

You felt like you were going to explode, mind going hazy with everything. And of fucking course Eddie could tell, with the way you were squirming, thighs shuddering, and your tender pussy gripping his dick nicely. 

Your mewls and whines were muffled by Steve’s cock slammed down your throat. “Shit, honey, are you gonna cum already?” Eddie asked with a low groan. 

You nodded, as best as you could with Steve’s hold, eyes pleading, begging, so fucking desperate that neither of them wanted to hold you off. 

Besides, your punishment wasn’t edging tonight. 

“Pretty girl, cum for us, baby, soak Eddie’s dick,” Steve grunted, teeth grinding together, just barely holding all of it. It was making him feral watching the way Eddie’s thick cock plunged into you, while you took his cock into your mouth, like the good fucking girl you were. 

He almost looked at Eddie for approval, and he nodded quickly. “Cum for us, sweetheart.” His words were all the encouragement you needed. Muffled noises tumbled from your mouth as Eddie’s cock hit spots you didn’t even know existed and brought you over the edge. Your orgasm ripped through you, pussy shuddering around Eddie’s cock.  

“Our perfect girl, cumming just from us using your holes, shit,” Steve cursed, desperate to give you all of his load, make sure you never spilled a fucking drop of it.  

“God, she’s so fuckin’ tight when she cums, Steve, don’t think I’m gonna last,” Eddie growled, his thrusts dramatic, enough to have the bed creaking with a squeaky noise.

“Come with me, baby, let’s fill her up at the same time, hmm?” Steve grunted.

“Yeah, you’d like that, baby? You’d want your daddies to fill all your holes?” He taunted with your chin in his hands, Eddie’s rough hold on you was making it harder to focus, you just came but you simultaneously needed more. They were so fucking addicting. 

“Shit, you’re so fuckin’ perfect, sweetheart, I’m gonna fuckin—” Eddie rambled, so deep inside of you that you whimpered around Steve’s cock, making him grunt like a madman. 

“Me too, Munson, shit!”

“Gonna give you so much of my cum you’ll never get it out of you, princess, fuck!” It was a promise, his thrusts were brutal, bruising, and fucking divine. 

“S—shit baby, I’m—fuck! I wanna see you swallow all of my load, not one fuckin’ drop—oh fuck!” Steve added.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Both of them yelled in almost perfect sync. Thick cum filled inside of your walls and shot down your throat, it looked like Steve was too fucked out to tell you to swallow, and you beat him to it, sucking him dry with an exaggerated humming sound. 

Eddie was still unloading inside of you, seed spilled so deeply that it made you feel so warm, making his eyes roll to the back of his head. Both of their cocks and cum filling your holes, darkened gazes staring down at you, and it felt fucking amazing. 

You loved the little praises, the ‘good girl’ and ‘perfect girl’ they uttered before they placed thousands of kisses over your skin. Yet, you were nowhere near done, no, this was just a little taste. And you were hungry. 

“A—are you going to untie me now?” You asked, unwillingly, bringing that desire spark back into both of their gaze in an instant.

“Oh, sweetheart, you thought we were done?” That mocking voice was back like it never left, and you couldn’t help the way excitement pooled your tummy again. Shit, they were fucking good. 

“You wanted to cum, didn’t you? We’ll make sure you’ll cum, over and over, creaming our cock till you physically fucking can’t anymore.” Steve added, both of them grinning like a Cheshire cat, knowing there was so much more to your punishment. 

[frenchkisstheabyss]

♥︎ ₵₳₦ĐɎ ♥︎

♥︎ Pairing: lead singer!boyfriend!yuta x chubby!fem!bassist reader (you get mark & johnny as bandmates too so that's fun)

♥︎ Genre: rockstar au/fluff/angst/smut

♥︎ Summary: Joining your favorite band was a dream come true. That is until you fell for the lead singer who has no shortage of groupies throwing themselves at him. He says he loves you but can you really trust him? I mean, you used to be a groupie too after all.

♥︎ Word Count: 4.1k-ish

♥︎ Warnings: Strong language. If you don't like curse words I'm sorry babes. I'm a potty mouth. Unprotected sex, creampie, shower sex, rough sex, a lil choking, nibbling, scratching, fingering, marking, oral sex (f receiving), tattoos/piercings, pet names (daddy, baby, etc), a lil drop of mutual possessiveness.

♥︎ A/N: I've really been trying to have more fun with my fics and just let my brain do it's thing so I hope y'all have fun with it too, darlings.

“Yuta, I fucking love you!” an obnoxiously tipsy female voice screams from the crowd.

A bra comes soaring from the sea of bodies packed into the pit at the edge of the stage. The pink lace fabric lands at Yuta’s feet, draping itself across his scuffed black combat boots. Any band knows that when you stop the show to do something — tune your guitar, take a sip of water — it’s prime opportunity for anything to happen. And it almost always will. 

It’s not like you can blame her. Once upon a time you’d been one of those girls in the crowd, lost in the chaos of the night. There’s nothing like it, the rush that you get when your heart seems to sync with the violent bashing of the drums. The distorted guitars like electric coursing through your veins. Every lyric floats through the air, becoming more and more a part of you with each breath you take in. 

Then there was him…

Nakamoto Yuta. When your friends were all drooling over him you’d pretend you weren't interested. You’d never be so basic as to fall for the lead singer of the band. Maybe he did have the sort of voice that makes a girl melt even when he’s growling the filthiest lyrics. Especially when there’s growling. And maybe he did have bone structure to die for.

Then there were the tattoos, piercings, and the way sweat glistened on his chest halfway through a show. You weren’t won over by any of that. It was all about the music, one artist appreciating another. So when Yuta’s bassist quit the band and your manager broke the news that she’d gotten you an audition your intentions were purely artistic.

In this industry, a girl’s gotta work twice as hard as the guys to prove she can do half of what they can. You worked your ass off session after session, easily demolishing any other bassist their label could’ve suggested. You earned your spot in the band ten times over. Made sure no one could question why you were there. Then and only then did you let Yuta fuck your brains out. 

Before shows, after shows. Tour buses. Hotels. Airport bathrooms. Green rooms. Whenever. Wherever. However. In the studio and onstage it was still about the music but everything else? All of it was driven by how much you lusted for and, much to your dismay, loved one another.

Recalling the heavenly experience it is to be bent over a bathroom sink with Yuta so deep inside of you that you feel it in the back of your throat, you can’t really blame Ms. Pink Lace for tossing her bra at him. 

Kneeling down to pick up the bra, Yuta takes a look back at you. The most innocent face in the world, his baby angel, geared up and ready to commit murder. 

You can’t really blame her but—

Fuck it. You do. 

“I think she wants to come backstage after the show!” a guy shouts from the other side of the stage, garnering laughter from the crowd. Yuta smiles as he approaches the mic stand, the bra dangling from his fingers by the strap. “I think she wants my girl to kick my ass,” Yuta laughs, pushing his messy hair back out of his face.

“Kick his ass” Johnny whispers into his mic from the safety of his drum kit. Nearly spitting out the sip of water you’ve just taken, you toss the rest back at Johnny. The years of experience he has over you come in handy as he expertly dodges it.

“Boo, she doesn’t like to share!” Ms. Pink Lace shouts, not quite ready to back down.

Yuta steps aside and turns to you once more, “You wanna come answer this?” You unplug your bass and stroll to Yuta’s side with the sweetest smile on your face. “Do I share him?” you ask as if it’s the dumbest question you’ve ever heard in your life. It is. You lay your hand flat on his chest, running it all the way down to the waist of his pants. Looping a finger around his belt, you pull him closer and into a kiss deep enough to make you both forget you’re on stage.

When you finally break away, you borrow his mic for a quick announcement. “Our next song is called ‘In Your Fucking Dreams’!” Taking the bra from Yuta, you put it on over your dress. Ever the supportive boyfriend, he clasps it in the back for you and plants another kiss on your lips before you skip back to your spot. 

“Well, then…” Yuta sings, “This is ‘In Your Fucking Dreams’” Mark laughs, strumming his guitar to warm up, “In your fucking dreams, parenthesis, thanks for the new bra.” The crowd cheers, basking in the chaos of it all. You plug your bass back up, ready to shred hard enough that your fingers bleed. You’re pissed, all of the boys know it, but the show must go on. 

There’s no crying in punk rock.

“Are you crying?” Mark asks, spotting you amongst the legions staff shuffling around the halls backstage. “No” you sniffle, wiping the tears from your cheeks, “The lights were just hot and—” He grabs you by the arm, turning you to face him. “You’re a shitty liar. You’re crying. What’s wrong?”

Overhearing the conversation as he passes, Johnny doubles back. “Are you—” Johnny starts but figures it out before he has to speak another word, “Wait, don’t tell me you’re upset about that bra thing.” Feeling cornered, you try to push them aside but they don’t budge an inch. “Look, no. I don’t know. I’m just—fuck just leave me alone okay!” you snap, another wave of tears stinging the corners of your eyes.

Yuta finally catches up, his exhaustion turning to concern when he sees you. If you’re upset, even over the tiniest thing, everything stops for him including the urge to pass out after a show. He takes you by the hand, bringing you into his arms. He’s sticky and wet but his embrace is comforting all the same. “Baby,” he says softly, petting your hair, “What’s going on? Talk to me.” With so many eyes on you, you aren’t quite sure how to admit that Johnny’s right.

You are upset about the bra thing. Upset, embarrassed, angry, hurt — every mixture of things — and you can’t make sense of any of it. “Can we just go back to the hotel?” you ask, gathering whatever composure you have left. Yuta hesitates but gives in when he sees your eyes begging “Please”. “Uh, yeah. You guys—” he sighs, looking to the others. Johnny and Mark nod, getting the hint.

Mark pats him on the shoulder before walking ahead, “Got it, bro. We’ll catch you tomorrow.” Johnny hangs back for a second, leaning in to whisper into your ear, “Don’t worry, he’s so whipped for you. It’s, like, super sad.” Johnny’s comment gets a giggle out of you which is all he needed to feel okay walking away.

Yuta leads you back to the green room where he stays glued to you as you wait for the okay from your manager to leave. You’re relieved when you can finally go, the fresh night air soothing the suffocating feeling that’s been terrorizing you for the past hour. The ride back to the hotel is quiet with most of your time spent zoning out in the kaleidoscope of lights cast on you as you pass the local shops.

You can feel Yuta watching you, his hand firmly and lovingly holding yours, but can’t bring yourself to meet his gaze. Not only are you the only girl in the band, you replaced someone fans already loved. Each night you have to fight for their respect, you knew this already. Now falling for him meant you had to fight for it in more ways than one. The girls will always be there in numbers your brain can’t even fathom, willing to do things that your brain, unfortunately, can fathom in nauseating detail. 

“A girlfriend to a rockstar is like a bicycle to a fish. Fucking useless.” 

That’s what one of the producers had advised him when you were supposed to be in the booth cluelessly recording your portion of a song. Those words crawled into the pit of your stomach, spreading doubt like a disease ever since. 

By the time you’re done spiraling, you’re upstairs seated at the foot of the bed in your hotel room. Contrary to popular belief, your band’s not the type to trash hotel rooms. That’s why you get to book places as beautiful as this with little to no resistance. Everything’s sleek and modern with large three-panel windows that overlook the city. Abstract paintings adorn the walls making it feel more like an art gallery than a place you sleep but the warm overhead lighting saves it from feeling too stuffy.

“Hey, uh, could you shower with me?” Yuta asks, drawing your attention to the bathroom door. It’s only now that you notice the shower running and Yuta standing there in a towel. “I’d shower alone but I have a fear of showers” he adds, “Shower phobia. I’ve had it really bad since I was a kid.” “And Mark says I’m a shitty liar” you tease, flopping back onto the bed.

You can’t see Yuta but you hear him shuffling across the smooth carpeted floor. He stops at your feet, dropping to his knees and laying his head in your lap. Almost on their own, your fingers find a way into his hair and silky strands swirl around them. Yuta breathes in deep, hoping what he says next will soothe you. “You’re enough for me. You know that, right?”

Time seems to freeze and you along with it. Something you love about him, his ability to seemingly always know how you’re feeling, has finally come back to bite you in the ass. Why can’t he just be content pretending nothing happened? 

“Yuta, I—” you say, sitting up enough to catch him staring at you the same way he had in the car. Only this time you don’t dodge his gaze, you let it pull you in. The man looking up at you isn’t the one in the magazines or on stage. There’s no act, only him and a heart pledged to you before you'd even known it. “What happened tonight, I’m sorry” he apologizes, “I can do better. I will.” 

“What? No!” you gasp, bringing you both up so that you’re eye to eye, “Please don’t apologize. That’s not what I wanted.” Still on his knees, Yuta slips his hands beneath your dress, fingers massaging your plush thighs. Touching you isn’t always sexual. Sometimes he just wants to be connected to you. This is one of those times. Feeling your body warm against his palms eases the anxiety knocking around in his head. Even though you’re upset your body still responds with pleasure to him, giving into his touch. That’s how he knows he hasn’t lost you. The day it doesn’t—well, he tries not to imagine that. 

“Do you think I’d cheat on you?” he asks, catching you off guard with his directness. You place a hand on each of his cheeks, squishing them together so his lips purse like the cutest fish you’ve ever seen. Yuta makes little smooching noises and you give him a peck on the lips. “I know you wouldn’t do that” you sigh, relaxing your hold on his cheeks, “But there’s a million girls out there who want you. I’m only one. What if someday you meet a girl and she’s everything you never knew you wanted?”

Yuta says nothing in response, simply staring at you for so long that you want to shake him to see if he’s alive. “There are a million other girls…” he admits, “Which is good for all of the guys I know want you because there’s only one of you and you’re mine.”

“Oh, Yuta, come off it—”

“I’m serious. I don’t give a shit how many girls are out there. You never have to worry about me finding what I never knew I wanted” he promises, gripping your hips to bring you in so tight that your legs are already wrapped around him. His lips brush yours, hitting you with a wicked mixture of chills and hot flashes. “I know who I want,” he whispers, nibbling at your bottom lip, “Who I love. I choose you. No one else. Can you trust that? For me?”

The sincerity in his voice, how it trembles with emotion when he says that he loves you, resonates more than anything he’s ever sung. His hands ease towards your inner thighs and they part for him instantly. The pad of his thumb brushes your clit through your panties and you shudder. “Yes,” you moan between his lips as his mouth captures yours. His kiss is like quicksand, the more you move the faster it drags you in. But there’s nothing to be done about it.

You’re ravenous for each other, your tongues performing an intricate dance that tangles you together. The movement of his thumb against your clit quickens, your hips arching to beg for more. “You love me baby?” he asks, trailing kisses down your chin. Tugging your panties to the side, his fingertips tease the slippery warmth of your entrance. “Yes, I…” you squeak, shivering when his fingers plunge into you, “Love you so much.”

Yuta’s tongue tickles your neck, love bites marking his way to your cleavage. “Tell me I’m yours,” he says, making no attempt to hide how desperate he is to hear you say it. Your walls clench around his fingers. He flexes them in response, the stretch so satisfying that your eyes nearly roll back. “I want you to own it so say it” he urges, pushing in deeper, “Tell me I’m yours.” Your arms come around his neck, your best attempt at staying upright.

“You’re mine. All mine” you moan, the faintest hint of possessiveness peeking through. It’s music to his ears, turning him on to the point that the towel’s virtually useless now in hiding how hard he is. Reaching between your bodies, you take him into your hand to delight in what you’ve done to him. Stroking up and down you feel the blood rushing up his shaft — veins throbbing, his arousal decorating your chipped nail polish.

“Is this mine too?” you joke, teasing the head of his cock with light circular movements. “Fuck, yes. You want it?” he mumbles, his face buried between your tits. He can barely breathe, he’s probably lightheaded, and it’s worth it. Gripping him by the back of the head, you bring him eye to eye with you again. “I want it” you grin, the fullness in your lower belly intensifying.

Yuta sticks his tongue out, curling it to wet his lips. Catching you off guard, he grabs you by the neck and pushes you back on the bed. Keeping you pinned by your neck, his free hand tears your panties to the side. His mouth latches onto your clit, licking and sucking at the sensitive bundle of nerves. You’re completely at his mercy, only able to shake and moan as he devours you. His tongue runs between the petal soft lips of your pussy, your juices the best drink he’s had all night.

“Find someone else?” he scoffs, taking a handful of your belly, “Who else’s pussy tastes this good, hmm?” His tongue slams into you, the hand around your throat bringing you flush against his face.

 “Yuta, oh god — fuck — you can’t say things like that” you whimper, clawing at the sheets.

“Or what?”

Yuta pulls back, his face soaked with your juices, “Is my baby gonna cum if I tell her how good she tastes?” Refusing to wait for your answer, his tongue dips back inside of you. The ridges of your walls glide across his tastebuds, pulsing each time he swirls around and around. He’s relentless, letting up only for quick breaths of air. “So wet and so — mmm — fucking good” he groans, kissing your inner thigh.

When his tongue meets your core again you feel tingling in the tips of your toes and fingers. The tension in your stomach rises, your breaths growing shallow. Yuta releases your neck, locking his arms around your thighs to keep them spread. “That’s it, baby. That’s my girl. Cum for me.”

Pulling his tongue out, he drags it across your clit and sends you crashing over the edge. You throw your hand over your mouth, suppressing the incoherent moans that spill from your lips. Yuta snatches your hand away, holding you by the wrist just in time to hear those last few moans escape. Not missing a beat, he hops up and brings your limp body with him.

Disoriented, the rubbing of your thighs against your core causing some aftershock, you struggle to gain your footing. “You’re trying to kill me” you pout, leaning on him for support. “Why would I do that?” he asks, putting on his best innocent face, “We still have 10 more stops on the tour. The label would kill me.” 

“I can’t stand you!” you say, slapping him on the cheek as softly as you can. Yuta winks, pinching you on the ass, “You’ll live. Now about that shower—” Shaking off the post-orgasm brain fog, you manage to hold yourself up enough to lock lips with him. It’s the clumsiest thing. Kissing, caressing, peeling away your clothes. All while blindly making your way to the shower.

You step into the shower first, expecting Yuta to follow immediately after but he stops short just outside of it.

“Were you, like, serious about that shower phobia thing?”

“No,” he laughs, “I just want to look at you for a second if that’s okay.”

Standing alone in the shower, steamy droplets of water running down the curves of your body, you’re pure perfection. A vine of cherry blossoms travels across your left shoulder, riding your love handles, your hips, down your thigh. He knows how long it took to finish that tattoo. All of the tiny gorgeous details missed by the naked eye. It’s been a secret mission of his to explore every aspect of it. And of you. 

The admiration radiates off of him and you find yourself overcome with shyness. “Dude, come on. You’re making me nervous!” you say, hiding behind the shower curtain. Yuta jumps into the shower, hugging you from the side, “Oh my bad, dude. I call you ‘baby’ and I get ‘dude’?” Paying him no mind, you grab the body wash and begin to cover him in rose-scented bubbles.

“Don’t be a brat. I call you other things too. I call you baby—” Your fingers trace his collarbone. “I call you honey—” They travel across his shoulder, drifting down his back. You pause halfway down, “I call you…daddy.” You don’t even try to hide your amusement when your nails press into his lower back and he whimpers. “You—why would you do that?” Yuta asks, knowing very well why.

It does something for him when you call him that. Something that makes him want to tear you apart in the best way. Leaning against the shower wall, you play with his belly button piercing. “Did I do something wrong, d—ah!” Yuta lifts you up, bringing your legs around his waist. Catching your breath, you hold on tight, terrified to fall.

“I didn’t know you could do that.” Yuta giddily shifts your weight like it’s nothing, thrusting into you, “I know.” Still dripping from your last orgasm, he slips in easily. Almost too easily. There’s no teasing, no taking it slow. Every inch of him is buried deep inside of you. You can’t cover your mouth and the shower does nothing to conceal your overstimulated moans.

Yuta bounces you up and down on his cock. The water raining down on you causes a sharp slapping noise when your bodies come together. “Fuck me harder” you beg, knowing it’ll only make the sound louder. Always here to give you what you want, he fucks into you harder and harder. With every thrust you seem to get tighter, your body so needy for him that it can’t let go. 

They say there’s nothing like it. The rush that you get from a concert. Your heart syncing with the violent bashing of the drums. Well, whoever said that, has no fucking idea what they’re talking about.

Yuta presses your legs back, the head of his cock thick and throbbing as he stimulates your sweet spot. “Baby, it feels too good” he pants, knowing he’s on the brink of coming undone. Purposely clenching as tight as you can, you rock your hips down onto him and he can’t hold out any longer. Now this rush? There’s nothing like this.

The fullness as he cums inside of you makes your second orgasm all the more intense when it consumes you. The two of you float in a state of euphoria somewhere between being out of your body and being hyper-aware of it all at once. Kissing you on the neck, Yuta carefully sets you down on your feet. Unable to hold himself up, he sits down in the bathtub. He holds his arms out to you and you make your way down, cuddling up to him.

“I love you, dude” he mocks, tracing the petals on your tattoo. You groan, rolling your eyes, “Yeah, yeah. I love you too.” You share a laugh at your mutual silliness and then…nothing. Only silence. Your breathing. The running of the water. Your heart and his. You may be in the business of noise but together you’ve found meaning in just being. 

“Our band doesn’t really have a concept, you know? We kinda just do what we want. It’s a vibe” Mark explains to the journalist holding a mic way too close to his face.

When your label booked you for a weekend at one of the biggest festivals in the country they failed to tell you that you had interviews lined up. Let alone ones this painfully boring. So here you are, half dressed outside of your tour bus baking in the summer sun with a camera pointed at your faces.

“And vibes are important!” Johnny throws in, “People…they need vibes because without vibes, who are we? Am I right?” Mark stares into the camera, his mind truly blown, “Bro, that’s…deep.” The interviewer nods, pretending that he understood any of that, “Vibes. Right. So you guys are on another level and—”

Just that moment a group of girls pass by behind the camera. Dressed in their skimpiest festival gear, it takes zero effort on their part to reel Mark and Johnny in. “We are so sorry” Mark apologizes, quietly flirting with the girls, “We gotta go get ready for soundcheck.” “Soundcheck, yes! Gotta keep that sound checked” Johnny says, throwing up a peace sign.

As Mark and Johnny ditch the interview to recruit groupies, the interviewer turns to you and Yuta who’ve been praying that he’d forgotten you were there. “Well, uh, I guess it’s just me and the happy couple, huh?” the man asks, plastering on a smile. The two of you are collectively unmoved, though you’re a bit nicer about it than Yuta.

Like a shark, the interviewer smells blood in the water and the mic is in your face next. “Some would say you’re pretty brave dating a rock star. Aren’t you worried someone might try to steal him away?” You and Yuta share a knowing glance before you snatch the mic from the interviewer.

“No. I mean, have you seen me?” you ask, almost glowing as Yuta showers you with kisses, “Next question.” But there is no next question. You hand the mic to Yuta and walk off to avoid saying something you’ll regret. 

“And then there was one. So I’m here with lead singer—”

“Yikes, sorry. I have…interview phobia? Yeah” Yuta lies, beginning to back out of frame before you get too far away. Nearly defeated and totally at a loss, the interviewer tries one more time to bait Yuta back in. “I was hoping we could finish this. Maybe I could ask a few more questions.” Yuta pretends to consider it for dramatic effect. “Better idea, you should pull out your phone and stream our new single ‘Don't Ask My Girlfriend Stupid Shit’.” 

Noticing that Yuta’s still holding onto the microphone, you run back to steal it. “Parenthesis, thanks for the brand new mic, asshole!” you cackle, holding the metallic purple equipment up like a Grammy. You disappear again, this time with some new equipment. Yuta just shrugs, waving goodbye to the camera, “Love of my life.” 

[stusbunker]

Spotless: Acciaccato

Chapter Thirty Six

Featuring: Dean Winchester/Reader

Other characters: Castiel, Missouri (mentioned), Cain, nameless thugs, Benny, Sam and Kevin

Word Count: ~3100

Warnings, etc: Mutual pining, still unbeta'd, Dean has a few hard thinks about his past whether he wants to or not. The show must go on.

Super, extra, mega, uber, and deepest thanks to @lastactiontricia on this chapter. I know you could have done so much more with it, but I'm taking the knee. xoxo

Series Masterlist

The rooms the band nabbed in Vegas were straight out of Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous. It was almost a sin not to share, but at this point Dean would have been stuck with Kevin and even if the kid hadn’t come back in the wee hours with a handful of his own groupies, he doubted Kevin and he would have the same ideas on how to treat a hotel room in the middle of a stay.

Or how to respect a roommate’s privacy.

Instead, he luxuriated in his spacious suite. He told himself he wasn’t hiding or moping. He was just carefully taking some Dean-time before their second show. Besides, he had his therapy appointment in an hour anyway and his laptop was already set up on the desk in his room. 

The softness level of the complimentary robe didn’t hurt either.

Dean turned on a ‘70s music station on the all access cable and checked out the city below. There was a time when he was in Vegas more than he was in LA, every minute he wasn’t needed in the studio he was either on the road or in one of Cain’s gyms or clubs. 

As he took in the city skyline, it was difficult to stomach that he had ever been that guy. Like rewatching a movie where he once idolized the hero, only to see later, the guy was nothing short of a mass murderer hiding behind a badge. Of course, Dean was ashamed of what he did with all his time here. But more than that, he was terrified that that truth would get out.

That you would realize who he really had been then. Not just some self-absorbed rockstar who fucked anything that turned his head.  Who threw away friendships because it was easier than actually working to maintain them. But the mindless rage monster, the guy who was numbed to the point of hurting himself and others to feel alive instead of trapped between planes of existence.

Cain had called it ‘pure’, that base instinct to hurt and dominate, a warrior’s need for victory. But Dean knew now it was an escape, to separate himself from his actions, and to justify the pain he caused and experienced. Dean had no idea if Cain was the man’s given name or not, but it was apropos, the way the man spoke, it was no wonder he was named after the first known murderer.

The room service coffee surpassed the chintzy little one cup brewer they provided in the kitchenette and Dean drank it down greedily. He sat on the leather couch and debated on how he was going to kill the next hour, besides getting dressed. One of the hardest parts of therapy, for Dean, was the build up. Which was why he usually tried to have plans beforehand, so he didn’t overthink too much before they even got started.

But after last night, and being in Vegas at all, he felt safer being alone. Or less exposed, at least.

Dean sighed, set his mug down, and picked up his phone. His wallpaper was the same as always, him and Baby, both bright and smiling for the camera. What the phone screen didn’t say was that Cas had taken the picture. Or that Dean had spent three months in between tours finally fixing her up with his own two hands. There were a lot of things Dean regretted in his life, but the stuff with Cas was at the top of his list.

Before he could stop himself, he pulled up Cas’ number and hit the phone icon. It was the middle of a work day, something he usually never thought about, and Dean was suddenly ashamed to admit he had no idea what Cas was doing for money at the moment.

“Hello?” that gruff familiar voice answered, clearly doubting it was actually Dean calling.

“Hey, Cas. How’s it going?”

“Dean?”

“Yeah.”

“Is everything alright?”

Dean leaned back and tried to sit with the uncomfortableness. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just— felt like checking in.”

The seconds ticked by, but Cas didn’t seem too keen to start up a conversation. The sound of someone working out a riff in the background drew Dean’s focus as his self-doubt almost had him hanging up the phone. Then Cas started moving, the background noise shifted and then disappeared.

“Sorry, we’re recording, but it’s slow going.”

Dean never felt so disconnected from his friend’s life. He didn’t even know they were like a real band or even what they sounded like. Let alone recording. “Wow! Cas, that’s—- that’s great. So what’re you callin’ yourselves?”

“Holy Terror.”

Dean chuckled. “Damn. That’s actually pretty dope, man.”

“I was out voted. I wanted ‘All in the Family’, but apparently that has incestuous implications.”

“Yeah, man, I’m with your bandmates on that one. So— who’s all playing with you? Besides, you know, the kid?”

“Jack. They have a name.”

“I know, dude, it’s just weird because it’s not like I’ve even met ‘em.”

“It is weird for me, too. My life has changed so much in the past year, and I imagine so has yours.”

Dean huffed. “Understatement of the century right there.”

This conversation was inevitable the moment Dean pressed the call button, but still he felt like he owed it to Cas to salvage it.

“And who else you got? Don’t tell me they’ve got you singing too.”

“No, I haven’t fallen so far as to attempt that kind of puppetry.”

Dean couldn’t help but laugh. How did he forget what a sarcastic asshole Cas could be?

“There’s also Balthazar.”

“Nooooo.”

“Yes.”

“Wow. Okay, well, maybe you won’t be the one with the highest totals anymore, that guy’s more of a porn star than a musician most days.”

Castiel exhaled deeply through his nose. 

“What?”

“Our fourth member—- has actually done porn.”

“Cas? Don’t tell me you—”

“He volunteered.”

Dean looked up at the vaulted ceiling of his hotel room and then back at the television and its band facts scrolling at the bottom of the screen. “Wow! Well, I guess you’ve got your work cut out for you.”

“Gabriel actually paid for the studio time. Which has been helpful. Though Frank keeps a security guard on him at all times.”

“Frank let you guys in? Huh.”

“Don’t sound so surprised.”

“No— I’m not. I mean it’s Gabriel is all. Not that you’re not qualified or however that sounded.”

“That’s— very fair of you.”

Dean kicked his heels up onto the coffee table. “Well, that’s the new me. I’ve matured and shit.”

“And shit.”

“You get it.”

“I should get going. Where are you? Should I call you back later?”

“Tonight’s Vegas round two, so no. Got Phoenix this weekend though, so maybe Sunday afternoon if you’ve got time. If not, no biggie.”

“How long will you be on the road?”

“Five months.”

“That’s a long time.”

“Eh— got some double duty at the tail end, since, you know.”

“Yeah. Well, I wish you all luck.”

“Back at ya, buddy. Let me know if you want me or Trouble to pump up this new gig up online, alright?”

“I’ll consider it. Thank you.--- Dean?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for calling. It was good to hear your voice.”

Dean swallowed and nodded. “Yeah, you too.”

“Goodbye.”

“Yep.”

Dean hung up and dropped his phone and his hands into his lap. Deflated and a bit untethered, he guessed it was as good a time as any to get dressed.

The inner workings of the casino held an intricate hive of activity. From the hotel portion, to the venues for shows, out onto the actual casino floor, to the shops, restaurants, spas and other specialty amenities that kept people there and spending, workers bustled and hustled at every opportunity. 

So it wasn’t surprising that not one, not two, but three different employees stopped him backstage as he walked around hours before showtime. His therapy with Missouri had left him drained, but in the way muscles were sore after a workout. His feelings were stretched thin, but the conviction he held them with was strengthening. He was emotionally tougher than ever, but it still exhausted him. 

He gave himself some time in the wings, soaking in the memories of the concert the night before and the energy the fans had poured back out to them. He wanted to finish strong then and there, because then he could put the whole damn city behind him for the rest of the tour.

If only the universe worked in his favor.

Once he got downstairs, his past came back to knock him on his ass. Outside Phantom Traveler’s dressing room stood three men, two of them Dean didn’t bother trying to recognize, they were just goons. The third was someone he couldn’t forget even in his best dreams.  

“Hello, Dean,” Cain’s natural civility oozed old money.

“What are you doing down here?” Dean asked without any pretense. So much for the abundance of security. But knowing Cain, he probably paid them off.

“I was hoping for a chance to catch up. It’s been a long time.”

“Not long enough,” Dean snipped, clocking the lanyards around Cain’s and his bodyguards’ necks. “So you’re here for the show?”

“Of course. You know I was always impressed with your endeavors.”

Dean couldn’t tell if the heat clawing up the back of his neck was from embarrassment, pride, or anger, with Cain things were always complicated. And the fucker knew it.

“Yeah, thanks for that,” Dean felt petulant, but he really didn’t need any favors from the guy.

Cain took a moment, holding Dean in that calculated gaze, then took a step forward. Dean did not back up.

“You know I’m actually surprised you’re deigning to talk to me yourself. Alastair said you sent some Cajun mongrel after him last night.”

“Well, Alastair decided to come at us like a scumbag pap, so-.” Dean shrugged. It wasn’t a big deal if he didn’t make it a big deal. He was barely making polite conversation anyway.

“He does tend to be too dramatic for his own good.” Cain slipped his hands into his pants pockets, casually, but also disarming himself in the process. 

He was untouchable as ever.

“What do you want, man? Not that I’m not enjoying shooting the shit, oh wait, I’m not.”

“Don’t be rude. I wanted to remind you the door’s still open when you’re ready to get back to yourself. The ring’s not the same without you in it. And I hate to have you keeping all that raw talent untapped.”

The words tickled Dean the wrong way as they ticked off of Cain’s tongue.

Dean shuddered and swallowed against the rising bile.

“I’m out. Find yourself another prize hog. I’ve moved on.” He felt the dead look in his own eyes as Cain tisked at his refusal.

“Is that what you tell Ms. Y/L/N? Swear you’ve gone straight, to keep her from looking at you with fear in her eyes? I must say she seems just as smitten with you as that covergirl is supposed to be.”

Dean clenched his jaw and his fist.

Cain let his words sink in and then he took Dean out by the knees. “She doesn’t know, does she, Dean?”

“So what?”

“A man is not what he thinks he is, but he is what he hides,” Cain recited with a raised brow. “What did I tell you about those that don’t understand your dark side? You’ll only disappoint them in the end.”

Dean felt like a kid getting reprimanded for talking back, though Cain was more the dotting teacher type. “Some things should stay buried.”

Cain straightened up and nodded in agreement. “I could always fill her in myself— if it’s too much for you to explain. We could even bring her out after the show, together. Give her a tour of our operations and let her see for herself what you’re capable of? Then maybe you’ll see that she’s not worth the worry.”

“Not a chance. In fact, don’t even fucking look at her.”

“Dean! I’m offering to put some polish on the time we spent together. I’m willing to let Y/N in on your true nature. If that makes it more palatable. You know, it’s not just Alastair that misses seeing you in the ring. I’m sure the boys wouldn’t mind having a fresh— distraction around. We’ve all seen her, you know.”

Dean felt the rage wash over him, the snarling, festering truth; his Hyde side was never truly gone.

“Leave her out of this.” Dean warned, low and bitter. He felt his skin vibrating, his weight shifted naturally onto his toes as his body readied to strike, to lash out and protect. 

Cain looked at him with something close to pity, even as he threatened Dean to the edge of sanity. “I don’t think you understand the lengths I’ll go to bring you home. With or without her, you can’t change who you are inside or where you belong.”

“Everything alright, boss?” Benny’s voice broke through Dean’s thundering thoughts.

“Ah, here’s your man,” Cain’s eyes brightened and he spun on his heels to greet Benny outright. “Yes, hello, Cain Charles. Mr. LaFitte.”

Benny didn’t blink at the uneven introduction, just shook Cain’s hand and held his equally icy glare. “Pleasure.”

“Right. Dean and I were just catching up. But we can leave you gents to set up for the show tonight.” He looked over his shoulder at Dean and then at his two thugs. “Boys? Let’s go find out if they’ve got the box seats open yet.”

Benny, with his flawless instincts, stepped up to the plate. “Why don’t I go with ya? See if I can ease your way?”

Benny nudged Dean with his elbow as he gestured Cain and company down the hall towards the elevators. “You good, hoss?”

“No,” Dean practically grunted.

“Well, go on. I’ve got them.”

Dean shook his head, but kept the rest of his response to himself. He kept his eyes on the back of Cain’s perfect salt and pepper waves until Benny followed half of a beat after. Finally, they disappeared behind sliding metal doors.

Dean gasped out the breath he had been holding and turned and punched the cinderblock wall that led to the dressing rooms. His knuckles burst open and he bent in half with the hot, familiar pain. It wasn’t enough to take away the gut twisting worry that Cain had planted inside him.

But it was enough to bring him back to himself, to that moment and to his hitching breath. He inhaled and shook out his hand. Then he exhaled.

Dean told himself that setbacks happen, that he still was in control of his actions. It just was going to be a long night.

The lights poured down on Dean from every angle, surrounding him with inescapable heat and scrutiny. The show was half way over, he just needed to calm down and be in the moment. But somewhere in the dark, he knew Cain was watching him. No, watching them. 

He flashed a forced grin, cocky and reckless. Fake it ‘til you make it. But the fans loved it, so he kept up the ruse.

“Kevin?” he asked playfully.

“Yeah, Dean?”

“How about we skip the next one and give ‘em some Prophet and Loss instead?”

The crowd screamed in agreement, but Kevin took his time, playing up his indecision.

“You guys wanna hear the new stuff don’t you?!” Dean bellowed, egging them on. Internally begging them to let him out of singing about Lisa right now, or about who he used to be. He couldn’t wait until the album was released and they could focus on the new music, and just touch on the hits.

The fans bayed with excitement.

Kevin played along, ignoring the rest of the setlist and absolutely flexed on the solo.

Letting Kevin have the spotlight, Dean backed up next to Sam, nodding at him as he kept the bassline going. Sam had taken the news of Cain’s reappearance seriously, putting Jesse on Madison detail until she would be taking the flight back to LA the next morning. Bobby and Victor were given blatant warnings that every band member was to be escorted to and from the show and their rooms, yourself and Charlie included. Benny personally promised he’d ensure it got done. But that was only a bandaid on a wound that had been left festering for too long.

Cain knew all of Dean’s tells, and most of his secrets.

Sam, now, held Dean's gaze, silently checking in. But Dean could barely look him in the eye, he was that rough.

Which, of course, Sam noticed.

Guilt was par for the course with Dean, if something sucky was happening, he always felt somewhat at fault. But this was entirely and undeniably his fault and that weight was enough to pull him under and if he wasn’t careful, he’d just let himself sink. To give in to the temptation and be the guy Cain wanted him to be: the fighter that Alastair had curated out of the bar fights and back alley brawls of Dean’s formative years.

To succumb to the anger, and the fear that he’d never be more than that animal, was just too easy.

So, when Sam gave him that incredulous look on stage, Dean had to use every ounce of self control not to just punch his lights out. Fuck him, of all people, for judging Dean. 

He was fucking trying, okay?!

Then Sam’s face shifted and his massive forehead hitched and the puppy dog eyes came out and Dean didn’t want to be seen anymore. He shook his head, shrugged and continued winding his way around the stage, touching base with each member until he was at Kevin’s side. Dean fell into rhythm with Kevin’s extended solo, swaying and bobbing with the beat as it mellowed into a much more upbeat swinging vibe than anything the song it had emerged from ever held.

In that moment, Dean remembered how insanely grateful he was that Kevin had joined the band. His unique twist to the music, mischief, and raw talent were something like paddles to the chest, a resuscitation. A new chance at life for the band.

That bright reminder of hope, of progress, got Dean through the rest of the show. They brought out Annie next and ‘Baby’ was as smooth as the chrome on her namesake.

There were things coming for him that he hadn’t outrun. But on that stage, he was the one who was untouchable. And if it was going to all slip through his fingers by the consequences of his own actions, at least he’d leave it on a high note. 

He gave the people what they came for, and they all left the stage sweaty and smiling.

Tagging:

@deans-spinster-witch

@mrswhozeewhatsis

@cosicas-cuquis

@fics-pics-andotherthings-i-like

@suckitands33

@ladysparkles78

@deans-baby-momma

@stoneyggirl2

@sassy-pelican

@leigh70

@globetrotter28

@winharry

@lastactiontricia

@rockhoochie

@brightlilith

@coldhearted93

@djs8891

@beautiful-places-blog

@n-o-p-e-never

@spxideyver

Chapter 37: Portato

[forever-rogue]

A little hurt to comfort request

A wannabe groupie makes comments about rockstar!eddie girlfriend (aka reader maybe plus-size!reader) eddie ofc defends his lady. But then reader starts feeling insecure about her looks and body she thinks she isn’t good enough for him. But he reassures her that she is the only one for him.

AN | I hope this is okay! I feel like this would be me too, Eddie would be the best the best 🥰

Warnings | Language

Pairing | Rockstar!Eddie x PlusSized!Fem!Reader

Word Count | 4.1k

Masterlist | Main, Eddie 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It had been no secret that you’d been dating Eddie Munson for close to a year now. The Eddie Munson.  Sometimes it still felt like a dream, but then you'd wake up with him pulling you into his chest. 

Life was…pretty fucking good. Or pretty fucking metal as Eddie liked to say.

You'd never thought twice about the fact that you were dating him, or rather that he had chosen you. 

Not until, anyway, one night when you were at one of Corroded Coffin’s shows. It wasn’t odd for you to be there, but you usually watched from the front VIP area or remained backstage to watch everything. Today, something compelled you to go out in the thick of it all, to be with the crowd and experience it from a new angle. 

You were walking in with Jeff’s wife, the two of you holding beers as you went to your seating area. A few curious glances were sent your way, almost as if the people recognized the two of you but just couldn’t quite place you. That was probably exactly what was going on; it was nice to retain some sense of anonymity. 

The two of you siddled into your spots and you heard a burst of laughter coming from a few seats down. The noise was so loud and out of place that it caused you to look down the row. Much to your chagrin you found two women staring back at you, wicked smirks on their faces. 

They were exactly the type of women you expected to be at a rock concert. Scantily dressed with large fake breasts, fake tans, bleached hair and too make-up. These were the type of women that you found after trying to get in with the boys. Groupies, and they were shameless about it. 

You turned your attention back to Angela, but before you could fully do so, you heard a loud moo directed at you. Your breath caught in your throat as you heard them making very non-discreet and rude comments. They were directed at you, you knew that right away and they were making no point to hide it.

“Can you believe Eddie Munson is dating her?”

“She must be good at sucking dick because you know Eddie wouldn’t keep her around for anything else.”

“She’s clearly good at eating.”

“He could do so much better.”

“What a waste of space!”

“If you’re going to be a porker, you could at least try to look pretty.”

You felt tears prickling at the back of your eyes but tried to push away the feelings that were bubbling up. They were just words after all, they shouldn’t have any real effect on you, and yet…it was the worst feeling. Those girls were purposely being cruel and for no real reason. No reason other than the fact that they were jealous of the fact that you were dating Eddie. 

Angela picked up on your sudden mood shift, and gently put her hand on your arm, “what’s wrong, babe?”

“Nothing,” you lied so quickly that it was clearly not true. A frown settled on her features but you shook your head, “really, it’s fine.”

You could see that she was looking past you and down the row where the two girls were standing, looking smug as can be, “was it them? Did they do something?”

“No - nothing,” you dropped your voice to what you hoped was only what she could hear so they didn’t make anything worse, “just felt a little odd for a few minutes. It’ll pass soon.”

“If you’re sure…” she was a good friend and would have done anything for you, just as you would for her. You took a sip of your beer and tried to put on what you thought would be a convincing smile. 

“Of course!” you had never been more thankful for the band to come out and play. You watched the boys struck onto stage, Eddie looking every bit the showman. Your heart fluttered slightly at the sight of him, “c’mon let’s get this show started!”

It wasn't entirely enough to take your mind off everything, but at least you experienced the momentary happiness of getting Eddie on stage. 

You tried to ignore the horrible girls that continued to make comments throughout the show. But it was fuckin’ hard.

Once the show ended, you allowed the crowd around you to disperse and leave, remaining behind so you could make your way backstage quietly. You really didn’t want to see or be around anyone else right now, especially not ones that were going to throw horrible comments at you. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Once the crowd had thinned out, you followed Angela to the back of the stadium. At least you had the promise of getting to see Eddie soon. She was talking about something but you were only half listening. There were tons of people, girls and guys, hanging around the dressing rooms, trying to sneak their way inside. Luckily the security was good and they kept prying eyes and nosey nancies away. 

The guards recognized both of you now and there wasn’t even a need to show your passes. Eddie must have somehow sensed your presence because he opened the door as soon as you were near it. His entire face lit up as soon as he saw you, the beautiful and brilliant smile making its appearance as he studied you. Before you could even say anything, his brows furrowed and eyes grew worried.

"What's wrong?" and you had to fight the fresh wave of tears that threatened to well up. He gently took your face in his hands as he tried to figure out what was wrong.

"N-nothing," you lied and he was able to see right through it. It was the soft look on his face that caused it all to be too much and the tears spilled over. Eddie's touch was nothing short of reverent as he wiped them away, "its nothing, I'm just being dumb."

"It's not nothing if it's making you feel this way," he insisted but you pulled out of his touch and ducked into his dressing room. Angela saw what was going on and walked over to Eddie, "what's going on?"

"There were girls," she explained, "sitting near us. They were making horrible and rude comments about her. Totally unnecessary and I think they really got to her."

"What the fuck-"

"Yeah," she nodded sadly, looking around to see who was hanging around. And, to no surprise at all, the girls were trying to sweet talk their way backstage. Angela grabbed his hand and pointed in their direction, "them! It was the two of them."

A furious look crossed his features as he pulled away from her. Despite the whole bad boy image, Eddie was really soft and kind. But this had brought up a while different type of emotion and Angela had never seen him so mad.

"Hey," he barked at the girls, who immediately pushed to get to him. Little did they know they were not going to like what he had to say to them. The one that had instigated everything came forward and batted her eyelashes at him.

"Hi Eddie-"

"Which one of you was talking shit about my girlfriend?" Their faces paled as they exchanged nervous looks. Eddie raised an eyebrow, "huh? Not so brave now, are we?"

"We didn't say anything mean," the other one lied, "we were just talking. She probably misunderstood."

"Bull-fucking-shit," he shook his head, curls bouncing widely, "I know your type, you're just rude to others for no reason. What did you think you were going to get out of being bitches?"

"Listen, we didn't do-"

"I know you did," he glared at them, "did you think we'd somehow break up and one of you had a chance with me? Are you that fucking stupid?"

"We didn't mean anything by it…"

"Well, that's lovely but you did what you did," he took a step back and shook his head at them, "you're never allowed at another Corroded Coffin show. I'll make sure of that. And if this ever happens and I get word of it, I won't be as nice. Clear?"

Neither of them managed to say anything, only nodding dumbly before turning around and practically running away. Eddie told his security to make sure to get their information so he could make sure they were banned from any future shows.

"You're a good man," Angela squeezed his shoulder before turning around to find Jeff.

Eddie took a deep breath before letting himself into his dressing room. His heart broke a little bit when he saw you sitting on the couch, eyes red from crying. 

"Baby," he came over and sat down next to you, attempting to wrap his arm around your shoulders. You flinched out from under his touch and shook your head at him, hastily wiping away the rest of your half-dried tears. His heart ached; you’d never shied away from his touch before, “what’s wrong? Please just…tell me. Let me make it better. I talked to those girls-”

“It’s not…” you pinched the bridge of your nose and sighed, “it’s not just them. It’s just…me.”

“You? How is it you?’ he crossed his arms over his chest, pale skin covered in various ink, “you know I’m not going to quit asking until you tell me. I’m a stubborn bastard, you know that.”

“Look at yourself,” you gestured to him and confusion marred his features as he looked at himself. He was still sweaty, in desperate need of a post show shower, only wearing a pair of skinny jeans and his beat up sneakers. He shrugged as you huffed, “now look at me.”

He looked you over, the same look as always in his eyes. You were gorgeous and he honestly had no clue what you were going on about, “umm…baby, you’re beautiful. You know that.”

“No,” you stood up and shook your head, “I’m…fuck, Eddie, you have eyes, I’m not skinny and I don’t look like all those other girls who throw themselves at you. I’m-”

“Fuck that,” he shook his head, “so what? I love that you don’t look like any of them, I don’t want them - I want you. I love you, baby, all of you.”

“You could have someone better,” you turned your back to him and hid your face in your hands. Eddie didn’t even know how to possibly respond because you were so wrong - so wrong, “someone that looks good like you and that deserves you.”

“I don’t know how else to tell you this, but I don’t want anyone else but you,” Eddie’s hands found your shoulders as he gently turned you around, so he could properly look at you. He put a finger under your chin and turned your face up to his. He hated seeing you cry and even more he hated the idea that you could ever think so lowly of yourself. You were everything to him and he wished he could make you understand that, “only you. You’re it for me, baby.”

You knew Eddie, and you knew that he wasn’t lying to you. But it still didn’t help the feelings of self-doubt and worthlessness that was settling into the back of your mind. Instead of arguing with him or pushing the issue further all you could do was nod in response, “me too, Eddie. You’re it for me too.”

He relaxed slightly before pressing a kiss to your forehead.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Despite Eddie’s reassurances, the run in at his show stuck with you. You weren’t able to completely shake off the feelings that those cruel words had brought up. Despite trying to hide them and pretending that they weren’t there in order to trick yourself into letting them go, nothing worked. Instead, it just kept getting worse and worse and you found yourself drifting apart from Eddie. 

You felt like you were suddenly aware of every single time someone else looked at him, or read too much into everything that was said to him. You couldn’t help but think that he deserved someone better, someone different - someone that wasn’t you. You wanted only the best for the man you loved so much. 

That’s how you made the hardest decision of your life. 

Eddie practically bounded to the door when he heard the silly little knock that the two of you had come up with. He wasn’t expecting you, but he was always more than happy to see you. He threw open the door, ready to wrap you up in his arms.

He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw the somber expression on your face. You caught his eye for just a moment, looking away and staring at your feet, “h-hey.”

“What’s wrong?” of course he dove right into it; not that you could blame him. If the roles were reversed, you’d probably be doing the same thing, “baby?”

“L-listen,” you swallowed thickly, “I’m sorry to do this so late, but umm…I think - I think we should break up.”

“What?” his doe eyes grew wide as you rocked back and forth on your heels before stepping back from him. Eddie ran a hand through his dark curls, trying to rationalize why you were suddenly breaking up with him. He never once thought about the two of you breaking up; in his mind it was forever, and that’s what he had always planned on, “what are you talking about?”

“I’m breaking up with you,” your words caught in your throat and it sounded even more harsh and choked. This time you hadn’t even bothered to hold back your tears, instead they fell down your cheeks and landed onto the marble of the apartment building’s floor, “I can’t date you anymore, Eddie.”

Eddie was a smart man; it didn’t take him long to put two and two together. He sighed and scrubbed a hand over his tired face, “can’t date me or won’t  date me?”

“What’s the difference?” you threw up your hands in exasperation.

“You know what it is,” you groaned. You loved his tenacity but right now you just wished he’d accept what you were saying, “either way, Eddie, this is over.”

“Baby,” he tried to grab your arms but you just pulled away, “baby. Is this about what happened a few weeks ago?”

“No,” the blatant lie was obvious, “I just…I don’t want to be with you anymore.”

“Give me one good reason,” he asked, some desperation creeping into his voice despite how cool he was trying to play it, “give me one good reason why we can’t be together.”

You looked at him, squarely in the face, “I don’t love you.”

And that, those four simple words, cut deeper than anything he would have expected. He knew - or at least desperately hoped - that you were lying to him. Right? Right? The last three years you’d spent together couldn’t all have been a lie, surely. The love you said was real…it couldn’t just have been pretend. That might have actually killed him.

“That’s a lie,” he said through gritted teeth as you shrugged at him, “please, wait, I…we can talk about this and figure it out.”

“There’s nothing to figure out,” your voice was barely audible as you created an even larger distance between the two of you, “it’s done.”

Eddie watched silently as you walked towards the elevator. When you stepped inside you turned around so you could face him before pressing the button for the lobby. 

“I’m sorry,” was the last thing he heard you say before the doors closed, “I’m sorry.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It felt like an eternity since you’d last seen Eddie. In reality, it had only been four months, but it felt like the longest time in your life. Every day without him felt achingly long and dreadful. The fact that he was famous and you had to see him in magazines, on TV, in advertisements and posters didn’t help. In some ways it was a small comfort getting to see him, but it also made your heart ache more for him. 

You had been tempted to go to his apartment and explain and try and work it out but you stopped yourself. All of this was because of you; and now you had to live with the consequences of your actions. The fact that he was on tour again helped your dilemma slightly - he wasn’t going to be home. 

Even if you were miserable, you hoped that he would be happy. He would find someone that was worthy of his love and that matched him as best as possible. Someone that wasn’t you. Maybe one day you would have your turn too…maybe.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You groaned as you heard knocking at the door. You set down your glass with a huff before pausing the movie you were watching. You’d already gotten the pizza you ordered and had no clue what this could have been. Whatever it i was, it better have been worth getting off the couch.

“Hang on,” you called out before opening the door; you didn’t even bother to look to see who it was before opening, “what?”

“Hi,” and there stood Eddie Munson. A small, tired half smile was on his face; he looked like he’d just come from a show, that similar glow on his face, “h-hi there.”

“Eddie?” you asked softly as though it wasn’t obvious that he was standing right there in your hallway. You opened and closed your mouth a few times before leaning against the doorframe in disbelief, “w-what are you doing here?”

“I was just in the neighborhood-”

“Bullshit,” you cut him off softly, “you’ve been on tour. I thought your last show was tomorrow night?”

“Still keeping track, huh?” he teased as warmth crept into your cheeks before offering him a single affirmative nod, "the last show was umm…tomorrow but I just…I wanted to see…you."

"Me?" You pointed at yourself and he nodded with a smile, "why? After everything I said and did. I was awful to you."

"It wasn't you," he stated simply, "I mean it was you but it was…circumstances."

"Eddie-"

"Can I come in?" You stepped to the side and motioned for him to come in. Once inside, he took a look around the familiar space, feeling more at home than he had in a long time. You went into the living room and plopped on the couch. He sat down on the other end, keeping a bit of distance between your bodies, "so…"

"What are you doing here, Eddie?" you allowed yourself one little look at his face. He looked tired and run down, but there was an expression of fierce determination on his face.

"I'm here to see you," he was never one to beat around the bush, "and I guess…asking you to take me back."

Your tummy erupted in butterflies and your heart felt like it was about to beat out of your chest. You turned to him, "I - what…you want me to take you back?"

"It's been four months and everyday has fucking sucked," he admitted, letting out a shaky little exhale, "and its because you're not there. I…my life isn't complete without you."

"But…I," he really had to go and be the best man ever. You smiled softly at him, "why would you want to be with me?"

"Are you kidding me?" He sounded offended, as though the answer was so obvious. To him it was obvious - you were everything to him. You looked at him, searching his pretty brown eyes, "babe, I'm in love with you. Everything about you, I'm so fucking in love with you it scares me some times. I don't want anyone but you. Like ever."

"But…"

"But what?" He asked gently as you searched for the right words, "tell me, baby."

"You deserve better."

"Why?"

"'cause," you shrugged him off but he wasn't going to have it.

"Nuh uh," he moved even closer and reached for your hand, "I'm not going to let it go until you give me a real answer."

"Look at me, Eddie!" You hung your head before sighing heavily, "I'm not skinny and pretty like all those other girls! You could have any and every single one of them. They'd be so much better for you and they'd be more like you. You'd have someone that deserves you."

"Is that what…baby, is that what this has been about?" He had his light bulb moment but it was a harsh reality. This was still bugging you for so long and he hadn't even realized, "you should have…fuck, I'm so sorry I didn't realize."

"It's not like you can fix anything," you wiped at your eyes with the sleeve of your sweater, "I am what I am and I don't want to feel like I'm holding you back."

"Fuck that," he shook his head, "I barely deserve you, you're so much…you're everything. I know you don't look like some of those other girls, but so what? You're gorgeous, you're the most beautiful girl I've ever seen. I don't want anyone else."

"What if you change your mind one day?"

"I hate to break it to you, but that's never going to happen," he promised, "I love you and that's it. Nothing else matters. If anyone has anything to say, fuck 'em. They don't matter."

"Eddie…"

"Here," he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small box, holding it out to you. You raised an eyebrow but took it gently and opened. Staring back at you was a beautiful diamond ring. Your mouth dropped open in surprise as you looked at him, "yeah. I was, ugh, I was actually planning on asking you before you broke up with me."

"You were going to ask me to marry you?" Your voice cracked as you came to the realization that he really was in it forever. Not that you had any reason to ever doubt him, it was the voices in your head that grew too loud. 

"Yeah," he whispered, his own throat thick with emotion, "I just…I wanted you to know."

"I'm sorry," you closed the box and handed it back to him slowly, "really, Eddie. I went and fucked things up."

"No, you didn't," he promised, touching your cheek, "your feelings are valid. Even though I don't agree with how you've been feeling about yourself. It also makes me mad that those girls, or anyone, would ever say something like that about anyone else. It's immature and just shows their own insecurities."

"Thank you," you put your hand on his wrist and squeezed gently, "you're the best, I hope you know that."

"I do," there was a playful little smile on his face, "because there's this amazing woman that constantly reminds me of that."

"You silly man," you couldn't help the small laugh that bubbled, "someone is going to be very lucky to have you one day."

"Yeah, I sure hope so," he snorted in amusement, "and I hope it's you."

"Me?!" 

"Of course," he was beaming at you and it was enough to make your entire body feel like jelly, "did you really think you were just going to get rid of me like that?"

"I should have known better," your heart felt lighter than it had in months, "you're a stubborn man, Eddie Munson."

"Maybe so," he traced his fingers along your jaw and down your neck, "I'm also stubborn enough to think that you might still marry me."

"I think that might be something that could happen," and yeah, you were definitely and madly in love with this man, "its definitely in the cards."

"Hmm," he mused gently, "well, it's getting pretty late…I guess I should get going."

"Stay," you held onto his arm and kept him anchored towards you, "stay."

"Are you sure?" 

"Positive," you nodded, never more sure than anything else, "please."

"I love you, baby. So much."

"I love you too, Eddie. So, so much."

[juliansjss]

‘’ YOU ALWAYS COME TO THE PARTIES . . . ON YOUR KNEES ‘’ | Euronymous ! |

Warnings: NSFW, fem Reader, degrading talk, p in v, smut with plot, hate fuck, car sex. (No I do not support the actual person, just Rory playing a part.)

Authors note: hiiii! So this is my first post on this account, and my first time writing smut in forever, so if it’s a little iffy you know why! But I do hope you enjoy this!

————-

He had always been in his weird ways. His strange comments, and odd behavior. It turned you away from him even then. School was hell because of him. Always making strange comments about you, and your friends. So you felt the need to hold back.

Now, you have your own band. It was more in the goth scene than metal, but somehow the two of you ended up at the same party. You and your bandmate, Raven, had been dragged there by her old college roommate. The party was okay, though it stunk of weed and sex, that was normal for this kind of thing. You sat on the couch that someone had definitely been fucked on earlier, but honestly you didn’t you care. There was a random blunt being passed around and you weren’t too much of a prude to take it.

That was until you noticed the band walked in. You rolled your eyes as you still took a hit of the blunt. Honestly, the band made decent music, wasn’t your cup of tea but it wasn’t the worst you had heard.

You handed the blunt to the next person, leaning your head back as you felt the couch dip beside you, turning your head to the side to see exactly who it was.

‘Of fucking course.’ You thought as the dark haired male made his way to meet your eyes.

“Funny seeing you here, Yvette.” He said, dragging the stage name out, like it was a kind of joke with a flicker of a smirk on his lips.

“Yeah I bet it is, Euronymous.” You said in the same cocky tone that he had.

“You know, I never thought someone as stuck up as you would be into this kind of stuff.” He said, the banter seemingly amusing to the man.

“Well, I wouldn’t see someone as weird as you being invited to this stuff either” you said, deadpanning.

“Aw, don’t flatter me.” He said with a smirk on his lips.

You just turned away from the man as you got the blunt back, taking yet another hit,

“You know how to take your weed, huh?” He said, the same stupid smirk on his lips.

“I’m a musician, I know how to take more than just weed” you said, rolling your eyes “don’t you have some groupie to fuck??”

“I don’t fuck groupies. I’m the leader of the band.” He shrugged, his tone turning serious.

“Sure you don’t. Believe me if everytime I heard that I’d be drowning in money.” You said with a cocky tone, the spiel getting boring at this point.

“Oh yeah? And I bet you have a lot of experience with that. Huh?” He said, now taking the blunt.

“You’re a fucking loser, Øystein.” You said, standing up and walking away, back to find Raven.

The night had calmed down, since you had been up. People were either passed out, or outside in the pool. That’s where you found Raven, laid out on a lawn chair. You stood beside her. The girl supported a drink in her hand, and a cigarette hanging out of her mouth like a true rockstar.

“I think you got a ghost” she giggled, clearly drunk.

“Hm?” You said turning your head back, and there he was again.

God, he was relentless, but you would be lying if you said it wasn’t at least a little hot, that he was a little hot.

“Do you have a ride home?” You mumbled to your friend

“Yup! Jades taking me home, I’m all set, you know.. if you wanna.” She said winking at you.

“Ew god no.” You shook your head, with a sour expression on your face

“Aww you don’t wanna fuck me? That’s too bad. I would assume it would make a great collab for our bands.” He smirked as he looked down at Raven, who nodded back at him with a smile.

You rolled your eyes yet again, walking away from the scene. Except, before you could get very far, he grabbed your arm.

“No you don’t, I wasn’t done talking to you.” The man said, staring down into your eyes.

“What the fuck do you want?” You mumbled as he did so.

“I just wanna talk, sweetcheeks.” He said, clearly the nickname an unfunny joke.

“About fucking what, Øystein?” You said, slapping his hand off of you.

“About how I know you wanna fuck me, just as much as I want to fuck you.” He whispered in your ear, clearly trying to hide from prying eyes.

Maybe he wasn’t wrong. I mean, he was pretty hot. But that would be it. Mindless sex with a hot guy wasn’t the end of the world, was it?

“Will that make you shut up?” You said in an annoyed tone.

“Fuck yeah it will.” He said enthusiastically back.

You grabbed him by his arm and dragged him out to your car. That wasn’t what he expected, but you didn’t trust him not to make his weird ass bandmates come and do weird shit. You wouldn’t doubt if they would come and take pictures and show everyone. At least here, you knew the tint was dark enough that no one could see.

“Get the fuck in.” You said angrily. Honestly you probably needed to get the aggression out.

He got in the back seat, not being his usual mouthy self which filled you with a sense of pride. When you got in after him, he was already taking off his pants and boxers. His dick standing hard against his stomach.

“God you really are a whore.” You mumbled and rolled your eyes.

Honestly the reaction he gave you wasn’t what you expected, a shocked look but that was filled with arousal.

“And If you try to fucking kiss me,” you mumbled, before grabbing him by the hair “I’ll fucking cut your tongue off.”

“Damn.” He said, his voice mixed with lust.

“Damn is right.” You said, swallowing hard. As you began to unzip your black leather skirt.

Were you really about to do this? Fuck the guy that made your life a living hell before? Yeah. You only live your life once right? Plus hopefully this would get him off your back, once and for all.

“You know, for such a loser, you do have a big cock.” You smirk, mostly to yourself, you were honestly surprised with the amount he hadn’t talked at all in this interaction.

“Thanks. I’ve been working on it for this moment.” He said, still a cocky smirk on his face.

“You’re a bitch.” You said, rolling your eyes as you took off your underwear.

“Gonna let me fuck now? I’ve been waiting.” He mumbled as he eyed you like a meal.

You rolled your eyes as you moved to slowly push yourself onto his dick. A decent stretch, you couldn’t lie, that was for certain. A little yelp came out as you did so.

“Oh, oh” he said, staring up at you with big eyes, clearly feeling the pleasure too.

At that it was, it was unreal. It was a mix of things that made it so good. The mix of fear that you’d get caught, the fact it was him, and the fact that you were wrapped so tightly around the man.

“Hm, I guess you’re good enough.” You said with a smirk, through breathy moans as you began lifting yourself up and down on the cock inside you.

“That’s so good, slut.” He said, grabbing at your hair to pull you down further on him.

“You’re the one who claims to be big and bad and is fucking someone in their car.” You said in a snarky tone.

“Do you ever shut the fuck up? Just take my cock and be quiet.” He said as he began thrusting into you now.

“That would mean I lost.” You mumbled as the feeling began to overwhelm your senses.

God, he did have experience and you knew that. He knew what to touch and where to hit to get you screaming out in no time.

“Fuck.you are a good fuck, maybe I should’ve tried to get off my back sooner.” You mumbled as you threw your arms over his shoulder, gripping at his back, your nails making indents into the skin.

He continued thrusting into you for a while, before moving down to flip you over. Now hitting deeper than before in missionary, faster too. You cover your mouth quickly in fear of someone coming out to find you being fucked practically into the backseat of your car.

“Øystein.. if you fucking cum in me, I’ll chop your dick off.” You said, mumbled from under your hand.

“You’re great at dirty talk.” He laughed as he began fucking into you faster, clearly trying to get to the edge faster, as you knew the two of you have been in there far too long to not be suspicious.

He moved his hand down to rub at your clit, making you moan louder against the hand that was covering your mouth.

And then suddenly you saw white. You heard yourself moan louder than you had all night, and your back was arched against him.

It took a few seconds to come back to it. But when you did, you saw the cum on your stomach and Euro outside of the car, zipping up his pants as he watched you.

“You know where to call me if you ever want me on your back again.” He winked and walked away, shutting the door behind him.