#ik u dont know that because u literally dont know me but i live here and i know your grandpa better than you do | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

staraxiaa · 3 months ago

Text

+ extra lines bc i ran out of tag space .

If you cross the river (will the fighting end?)

Contrary to what granny once said, Kita thinks he won't ever truly know who you are. You are the one who waits by the river, watching as he scrubs dirt from fresh carrots and dirty shovels. You are the one whose presence lingers like mist over his skin when you part. You are the one whose eyes he always feels, at every moment—the eyes granny reminds him of when they wipe the floor or prepare a meal together.

You are the one who knows that it does not matter, that he would still perform his rituals and hold unwavering conviction even if you were not there. Because he is Kita; he is Shin-chan—repetition, perseverance, and diligence is how he lives...because it simply feels good.

You are the same, committed to your duty to watch him from the moment you were pulled from the glory of a summit. And he is committed to being watched by you.

shinsuke kita x GN reader character study for shin, reader is a river/rain spirit, themes of disaster, mentions of dying/minor character death, fluff and angst, slow burn (i think), slight spoilers for haikyuu!! timeskip 20.4k words | oneshot, complete

notes: This fic is set around the premise that Kita's gran lives in the mountains of eastern Hyogo, just above Osaka. I have his parents living in the city while Kita is cared for by granny until it's time for him to start school, around 6 years old. He goes to Osaka during the school year and no longer spends time in the mtns. Since canon doesn't offer a whole lot of information, I took liberties with the setting and backstory to fit the plot of my fic. I hope this can help negate any potential confusion! + (It's another fic spanning childhood to adulthood. With a magical reader. I am unfortunately not able to escape my own tropes.) + shoutout to this fic for inspiration

ao3 option

One moment you are a carefree being, gleefully running along a series of falls wedged along the mountain summit. The sun is setting and you are soaking in the glory of the day: with swaying leaves and shimmering droplets, and the last bit of light streaming through pockets of trees.

The next you are falling, rolling, bumping your way through the water. A current sweeps you away without warning, your vision goes dark, and you have left your place above the sun to land in the depths of a looming valley. You have to carry onwards, knowing there is no going back, so you search for the one who brought you here.

There is a dim light beyond the bank. It seeps from the open screen of a traditional-style house, illuminating the wooden beams and eaves from behind. It's a bedroom, with a small boy dutifully putting his futon down for the night, smoothing out the bumps and lining the base to be in its exact spot. He has salt and pepper hair and you think he is the youngest old person you will ever see. He never looks your way, but you sense that he knows you are watching.

So you watch, now that you're here.

"Granny, who's that?"

He is a toddler, carried along the path next to the river by his grandmother, a thin arm clutching him tightly against her hip. Her eyes slowly move from his face to his finger pointing towards the water. She can't see what he sees: another child, waist deep in the gentle rapids, mysteriously faded—like a mist lingering instead of wafting to the sky. She smiles gently when she understands, bringing a hand to pat his hair softly.

"You'll learn when the time is right, Shin-chan."

She knows how this story will go.

Someone is always watching, Shin-chan.

Kita's life is built upon the small things he does everyday, and the end results are no more than a byproduct of that.

Someone is watching over you.

Rain streams down the mountain gullies and pools in the river at the center of the valley.

The sun rises. Over and over and over again.

Childhood

The morning light streams through open screens, crawling up the veranda and into the adjacent interior. It’s the beginning of June—cleaning day, the tatami mats moved aside for inspection and rotation while Kita and granny scrub the wooden floors together. Foam bubbles from the rag when he wrings it out, excess water trickling into the bucket. He wipes it across the floor of their living room, watching carefully as the wood darkens slightly, but not too much, leaving shiny streaks and stray bubbles behind. He smiles to himself gently.

A grin tugs at granny as she watches from the opposite side of the room. It was Shin-chan’s own decision to clean with her today. He gave her no reason as he simply said, “I’ll help,” when she grabbed her bucket and rags. He already started pulling the mats aside, then struggled to move the table in the center by himself. Granny chuckles to herself at the recollection before returning her attention to the floor, her section a little lighter than Kita's.

He looks to her side and the faintest crease appears between his brows, a slight purse of his lips. When he wrings out his towel again, he pulls the ends a little tighter before bringing it back to the floor with a new gentleness. The result brings the twitch of a smile to his mouth. It makes him feel good.

From outside, he hears the rustling of leaves, creaking as bamboo sways in a light breeze, and the scrapes of shrubs against the house. The morning is cool, bringing in air that will hopefully linger as the day drags on. The only chatter comes from the birds, quick raps of storks in the river and singing sparrows in the trees. Kita feels a warmth, one from inside, as he listens. Focuses.

He thinks it could be praise, from the spirits that are watching.

It’s still morning when they finish, the mats brushed and switched with the ones in the closet. After they return the table to the center of the room, granny quietly thanks Kita for his help. He only nods in return. Quiet Shin-chan. He thinks he’ll read until lunch, or maybe help some more if granny plans to work in the garden.

She interrupts his thoughts. “Let’s go for a walk, to Fujiwara-san’s.”

Kita's brow furrows ever so slightly, but he nods. Granny sometimes likes to visit the neighbors, though without any clear pattern or schedule. He thinks she might be doing it for him, so he can talk with other kids his age, especially with his sister always gone to a friend’s and his baby brother in the city. He would rather read, but agrees regardless since it’s granny asking.

They slip their feet into sandals and start down the path along the river, towards the right. Kita reaches for granny’s hand and she smiles down at the top of his hair. They walk slowly along pebbles and dirt, accompanied by the sound of water rushing next to them. Eventually they approach a bridge, granny having to grasp the railing as she walks up the steps. When she reaches the center of the river she pauses, a ritual, to watch the water run by.

“Fujiwara-san said he has exciting news,” granny offers in a delayed explanation. Kita doesn’t respond.

Granny takes another minute to step down on the other end of the bridge and continue walking. They go left, towards the house that sits opposite of theirs. It takes slightly longer with the incline, but it’s quaint and Kita feels no hurry.

The house is open when they arrive, doors aside to let the last cool minutes waft through. There’s nobody home, however, and Kita looks up to granny curiously after they step onto the exterior veranda.

She only offers a smile as they wait a few moments. His attention is diverted when he hears the thumping of footsteps, small and quick, getting closer. They’re followed by Fujiwara’s muffled voice, worried. Kita's hand tightens in granny’s as he watches closely.

Out runs a child, his age, tracking dark footprints along the tatami mats from the back entrance. Not just with dirt, but smudges of mud, smearing on the woven grass. His chest tightens at the sight and he has the urge to scold, to clean the mess, but then he feels eyes on him and—

That watchful gaze he remembers clearly, despite only seeing it once, years ago. A gaze he still feels everyday, most intently at night. You are grown, but only as much as he is. And you’re…real. With a weight and embodiment, a person instead of a misty image on the river’s surface. You’re also brighter, both in appearance and spirit, as you put a small handful of grapes (fat and crisp and green) into your mouth (skin and seeds included) and chew quickly before swallowing and smiling widely at him.

Again, Kita wants to protest the sight, tell you the skin is dirty and you can’t eat seeds, but the words are trapped. Something is tugging at his chest—something other than his apprehension, something that makes him want to physically step forward.

But then Fujiwara-san is rushing in, though not very quickly. He’s another old-timer in the village, with crinkly eyes and little hair remaining on his head, paired with a thin physique and hunch in his back. In one hand he carries a woven basket, filled with more bunches of grapes, shiny and wet. In the other is a wooden cane, pale with a reddish tint—Kita thinks maple. The old man never needed one before, and Kita wonders what’s changed.

He looks back to you, the one change he’s aware of.

“Shinsuke-kun,” his thoughts are interrupted by the call of his name. He hasn’t been listening, he realizes, and he turns his attention to the grandpa. “This is one of my grandchildren. My daughter has been busier with work lately.”

Kita, for a third time, wants to protest. He’s met all of Fujiwara-san’s grandchildren before, and if he hadn’t, granny would have certainly told him about another five year old. He doesn’t know how to respond, can’t, and so he watches blankly. You are smiling at him the entire time, with a joy he doesn’t understand—at least, not entirely.

(There is a tightness in his chest at the sight of you, like it wants to expand beyond its capability. He’s not sure what that means.)

“Have some grapes!” you exclaim in a soft voice, thrusting the bunch towards him. Two fall from the force of your sharp movements, and he watches as they roll on the ground, leaving another stain. He doesn’t accept them, just continues to stare at the mess.

Granny fights a smile as she encourages him. “Let’s try some Shin-chan.”

He wants to say that he’s already had them before. He knows they will be delicious and crunchy and refreshing, especially now that the heat is rising with the sun. He knows that Fujiwara’s grapes are the best, and now two have been wasted and splattered on the tatami. Instead of reprimanding you, he reaches his arm out to take the bundle. Since granny asked.

His eyes widen when you then crouch to pick up the fallen fruit from the floor and eat them (skin and seeds included) without so much as wiping them off.

Who are you?

The faintest tug on his hand makes him turn to granny, who’s pulling one off the bundle he’s holding to give it a taste. “They’re delicious as always,” she says. “I’m surprised it’s such an early harvest.”

Fujiwara smiles, eyes crinkling further. “Snow came early this winter,” he reminds her.

She hums thoughtfully. “Ah, yes. The weather has been quite unusual this year.”

Unusual, Kita wonders to himself. Because of you.

You smile at him again and that inexplicable tightness arises in his chest once more. He frowns, the first genuine frown of displeasure today. His mind tells him to ask granny if he can go home, but he doesn’t want to. He doesn’t understand how that could be possible, to want and not want something at the same time. His frown deepens.

Kita thinks his time at Fujiwara-san’s is excruciating. Kita is also hesitant to leave when granny says it’s time to go. He misses a knowing smile that rests on her face as she tugs him gently, watching as he glances back during their walk home.

You are nosy. Kita was already aware, given he could feel you watching him at every moment, even when he can’t see you. But you are nosy when you are physically near him. And you are around him often now, nearly every day for the past week. Whether you simply show up at random or granny is pulling him along to Fujiwara’s, Kita learns that being around you is inescapable, inevitable.

At the very least you aren’t noisy, just curious. At granny’s you quietly hover whenever Kita switches tasks or activities, a ghost floating over his shoulder. Once you’ve fulfilled whatever interest you have, you keep to yourself in your own part of the room. You’re helpful in the garden, for some reason, but you make him grimace when you pull a carrot directly from the ground and take a bite, dirt and all. You don’t help him wash the harvest, just crouch next to him by the river water and watch his hands diligently scrub.

You are, however, incredibly messy. It’s as if you don’t even register what a mess is, mud and leaves and water following you everywhere. Always. Trekking through the door with bare feet, smudges of grime trailing behind, sometimes with dripping hair—undried hair—that leaves dark circles and puddles on the mats and wood.

Every time it happens his chest flares with irritation, that urge to scold you. But granny is near, so he says nothing and instead looks at her intently. Granny only ever smiles back, sometimes handing him a towel and reminding him that he can help, if he wants. He doesn’t want to. He’s not sure why the adults haven’t explained it to you, surely Fujiwara-san can’t keep up with the cleaning he must have to do to house you. If Kita and granny always have to scrub your mess after you visit, Fujiwara must be mopping every hour. Sometimes they clean when you’re here, while you just sit and watch, only to dirty the floor again the following day.

After a week of this passes and you show up again, uninvited and with your bare feet leaving mud on the veranda, he caves.

“Don’ come around here if yer jus’ gonna make a mess,” he says firmly—but also quietly, wary of granny’s proximity. Why do you always enter through the veranda anyways—not the genkan, where the mess would be easier to contain?

You don’t appear deterred, smiling as you hold up a basket. “I brought you grapes, Shin-chan.”

He blinks. “That’s kind,” he admits, “but I don’ want ‘em.”

“Well I do,” Granny’s sweet voice says from behind him. Kita tenses when he hears it, turns to look at her guiltily. Her calm, smiling face makes him uneasy.

He starts to protest, those disagreements he felt a week ago, since the moment she wanted to go to Fujiwara’s, bubble up together. “But gran—”

“Shin-chan,” she cuts him off. Her voice is gentle and soft, but holds a different kind of firmness that Kita can’t deliver. One that makes him listen, because he has to.

“It’s okay,” you say, interrupting the conversation that would have followed. You’re still smiling, unfazed. It flames Kita's annoyance, while calming his nerves. Again, he doesn’t understand these feelings. “I’ll go home if Shin-chan wants me to.”

The boy’s eyes widen at that, heart plummeting as if he’s done something wrong. Why do I care? he immediately wonders. Maybe because granny is watching over his shoulder, or because Fujiwara-san seemed so happy to have his not-actually-grandkid (Kita is still certain) around his house. He doesn’t know what home you’re referring to, Fujiwara’s or the city or…somewhere else. Regardless, it would be easier if you went back and let them rest, granny especially, since she must be tired from the extra chores. He still hasn’t answered, caught between wanting to agree, waiting to disagree. He’s not sure which part of him wants what.

Instead of caving to his irritation for a second time today, he sighs and says, “It’s fine…jus’ wash yer feet.” He realizes he’s resolved to clean up after you so granny doesn’t have to. What is he doing?

“Okay,” you say easily, smiling. That relief fills him once again, and he can only stare at you, as if explanations for that feeling in his chest will surface if he looks hard enough. They don’t.

“Here are the grapes,” you assert, raising them in front of you. He hesitates, staring at them in accusation after he finally grasps the handle of the basket. Then you say: “Okay, bye now!” and run off the veranda, your bare feet landing in the dirt and carrying you along the trail and across the bridge.

Kita watches you with a pained face, and he realizes his free hand lifted slightly, as if reaching for you. He scowls and forces it down. Then he turns to granny. She’s smiling at him, he can sense it’s with amusement. He wants to ask why you left, if you really are going home, wherever that is. But he can’t, not when granny is giving him such a look.

“Stop cleanin’ up after others,” he tells her instead. Granny blinks, wondering why she’s being scolded now, too. “I’ll do it. Jus’…jus’ rest.”

She smiles warmly. “You’re a good kid, Shin-chan.”

Kita doesn’t think so. Not right now, with the way you ran away.

“Some people need time to learn the ways we live,” she continues vaguely. “Not everyone comes from the same place.”

He wonders why someone from the city would run around without shoes, through mud.

That inexplicable relief returns when you stand in the outdoor veranda the next day. He still doesn’t understand why he would want to see you, maybe for the confirmation that his words did not actually send you away—that granny and Fujiwara-san can continue to enjoy your presence. Regardless, he stares pointedly at your feet, the dirt clinging to them.

“Sorry,” you say, with the tact to at least look sheepish this time. “I washed them at Jii-chan’s, but they got dirty again.”

Kita is too stunned to react. Do people from the city not understand how shoes work? Or water? Dirt? He sighs, attempting to find his patience, as he tells you to stay put while he leaves. He grabs two pairs of sandals from the genkan and re-enters the veranda. He slips on one pair, then ushers you to follow him down the steps to the spigot.

“Rinse your feet,” he instructs. You do, poorly, but he supposes he can only ask for so much. He puts the second pair of sandals on the ground and tells you to step your feet in after you rinse. It’s an arduous process, but finally you are mostly clean and in the sandals. He then walks you to the entrance of the genkan and tells you, “Enter here. Wear those shoes when ya visit and put ‘em—” he points to a cubby, “there when ya come in.”

You are smiling, always smiling, when you reply. “Thanks Shin-chan!” Then you kick off your sandals and toss them into the cubby. Kita's chest flares again with displeasure at your haphazard treatment of his things. Suddenly you grab his hand and pull him inside, and all he can think is that your skin is cold. He can’t find it in himself to comment, heart racing as he stumbles and tries to slip off his slides before you tug him to the main room. He watches as your undried feet leave dark prints in the tatami in front of him—he thinks of the mold that has probably started growing under them since your first visit.

He passes granny as you pull him through the rooms. He gives her a wide-eyed look, one that tries to ask for help. She only smiles.

Kita feels a little bad for his outburst, once a few days pass and he understands that you aren’t intentionally helpless. You enter through the genkan, with relatively clean feet. You’re careful when you eat after he points out that you tend to make a mess. You help clean, when he asks you to. You still leave crumbs around and wet patches, you scrub too hard sometimes and other times not enough, but you try. And Kita finds that he doesn’t mind so much anymore.

You just don’t know things.

The more he ruminates on your…unfamiliarity with the world, the less sense your story makes—the city story that Fujiwara-san told him and granny. It’s obviously not true, but it also has to be, if everyone believes it. Someone from the city wouldn’t look so surprised that their feet collect dirt. He recalls that evening a few years ago when he was only two, when he could see you in the river. He thinks about the never-ending feeling of being watched. You’re from here, from him.

It becomes apparent why you’re here, why you hang around him at home and linger in his presence. One night he wakes up hours before sunrise. He struggles to re-enter his slumber and curiously opens the screen facing the river, to gauge the time. The mountains loom behind the image of a small figure on Fujiwara’s veranda. You, offering a little wave.

He doesn’t react, just watches as you swing your feet. The moon sits high between you, illuminating the river below, the mist that lingers on its surface. He wonders if you’ve always been there, why he never saw you until a couple weeks ago.

The spirits are all around us, in every living thing. Granny’s voice calls from his memory.

As he watches you, the river, he wonders what defines a “living thing”— if it’s breath or blood or growth. Something else entirely. He thinks the river breathes; it absorbs the air when it bubbles over rocks. Its blood is the water itself. It grows in its own way, banks expanding and collapsing, body winding and pooling, collecting life, collecting stories and history. He’s curious about your story, why it’s part of his.

He closes the screen and goes back to bed.

Shinsuke is not the kind of person to ask unnecessary questions. Even as a child, he keeps those curiosities within, assuming they’ll be answered eventually. Like granny said, You’ll learn when the time is right.

So he doesn’t ask, instead infers. Analyzes and assumes. You aren’t the same. Throughout the summer, as you spend time together, you are always asking. Asking and smiling. Sometimes they’re necessary questions: how to properly wash a dish, or where to set a gift of vegetables. Most of the time they’re unnecessary, asking how Kita is feeling, what he thinks of the weather. Sometimes they’re downright invasive.

“Where are your parents?” you ask him one hot July day, laying in the main room. Kita is fanning himself and wondering why you aren’t sweating.

“Osaka,” he says curtly. He hasn’t seen them in a while, hasn’t thought about them either.

“Do you miss them?” You ask, nosiness unsatisfied.

He shakes his head, no unnecessary response. He likes it with granny, always misses her the few times he’s gone to the city.

You hum, like you heard his unspoken answer. He thinks that’ll be the end of it. It isn’t.

“Your hair must be a mix of theirs,” you say plainly. “Whose is grey?”

He shakes his head, “Neither.” They both have black hair, the same with his sister who’s never home and his baby brother in the city with a nanny.

You’re surprised. “Oh. Do you know whose it is?”

He shrugs, uncaring.

But you smile for some reason, with genuinely joyful eyes. “Maybe it’s your gran’s,” you say happily. It makes him blink in surprise, mystified. He inhales, chest lighter. “It’s cool how that sort of stuff happens.”

He can’t look away from you, your smile that pierces right through him.

That night after his bath, he looks at himself in the mirror, intense, searching in a way he’s never done before. He sees the traces of his mom in his eyes and his lips, his dad in his nose. Both of them at the tips of his hair, that lower section by his neck. He continues to stare, looking for granny. He sees the way she influenced the nose he got from dad. He sees the way she claimed his hair, cradling his head and framing his eyes and cheeks. He wonders what it means, to be chosen by the traits from a generation before.

When granny says goodnight, Kita puts his arms up for a hug. She’s warm, always is. His head nestles into her neck, his threads of grey and black hair tangling with her sea of silver. He doesn’t know what it means; he is a five year old without the vocabulary to articulate the tightness in his chest, something akin to longing and fear. He is a five year old incapable of grasping what it means to be alive.

Only a couple days later, Kita catches a new perspective of you.

You are barefoot in the genkan and Kita is ready to scold you, this one he knows is deserved after all he’s taught you. Before he can, you speak.

“Come with me today.”

Your hand is outstretched and inviting, but Kita is apprehensive, not sure what you mean. Before he can ask, granny speaks from behind him. “Go on, Shin-chan.”

He frowns and looks at her. Neither of them know what you’re talking about, where you even want to go. But granny looks calm and assured, without a worry in the world.

You don’t wait for an answer, grasping his hand when he’s still turned away and giving it a tug. He feels that same chilliness on your skin, one that makes him think you might be sick. He manages to protest long enough to step into his slides before you pull him out the door.

It’s a beautiful day. The sun still hangs to the side, the heat of July not yet settled in the valley. The sky is a bright blue, populated with innocent fluffy clouds, white and rolling in the breeze. A group of sparrows sing in a shrub you two pass, and a toad leaps off the path to get out of your way. Kita inhales deeply, the air humid but clean.

“Where’r we goin’?” he manages to ask, quickening his pace to match yours. Your hand has loosened its grip, but he doesn’t let go.

“The forest!” you cheer easily.

His eyes widen. The forest? He’s been to the forest before, to pick bamboo shoots and tea leaves with granny, but he’s not supposed to go without an adult. Does granny know? Why would she let them go by themselves? These are necessary questions, he thinks, and yet he swallows them down and lets you take him without protest.

You are fast despite being barefoot, rocks and sticks seemingly unnoticed as you dart along the path. Kita follows along diligently, stumbling only a few times. He wishes he wore his athletic shoes instead of the sandals. He glances back to the house, studies the way it shrinks from the distance. The two of you are still on the southern side of the river, not yet crossed to the northern mountains, where granny takes him.

Kita decides that he likes running like this, despite the heat and his shoes. It’s a gentle jog, with a destination in mind, his hand in yours as you lead the way.

He doesn’t know how much time passes, just follows you up and along the path until the two of you reach its end. It’s the first time Kita has seen it, the way it stops before a rock face that climbs up a mountain west from his house. He looks down the path, into the valley from the incline.

He looks back at you, waiting for an explanation for what to do next. You don’t offer one, walking to the bank of the river. To get in the river, he realizes, and for the first time since leaving granny’s he tries to pull away.

You turn back to him, smiling softly. “Trust me, Shin-chan,” you say.

He’s not sure why he should, why he did, to let you take him all the way out here in the first place. Because of granny’s encouragement, he thinks. Go on, she said. Did that mean all the way? To the ends of wherever you wanted him?

You have turned and continued down the bank. Kita does not try to escape your grasp, letting you pull him along.

The water of the river rushes over his feet, cool and surprising. It runs up his ankles, his shins, his knees, and finally his thighs. You are leading him forwards, upstream and past the rock face that marks the end of the trail. His toes bump rocks covered in algae, slipping and wavering as he wades slowly. You, however, are sturdy, never faltering with your sure steps.

You approach a pile of rocks, scrambling over them to bring yourself back onto land. You help hoist Kita after you. He pauses when he steps onto the forest floor, the softness catching him off guard. He looks down to see reddish-brown piles of pine needles coating the ground, dotted with lush bundles of ferns and patches of vibrant moss. The land rolls gently, small and soft hills of fallen pine covering rocks and dirt and life. A mist lingers from the proximity of the water, the sun pulling the moisture into the air. The scenery is dark, quiet from the hazy canopy above. Kita inhales deeply in attempt to regulate his exhausted panting, the essence of wood and mint taking over him. He is in awe, not used to being swaddled in pine. The forests here are mostly a mix of leafy trees, oaks and maples and chestnuts, with pockets of bamboo. Not secret havens of sweetness and tang.

You tug him along, bouncing through the fluff of the soft ground. He follows, eyes wide and soaking in the scenery, wanting to memorize every moment. You show him your enchanted forest, its mysterious darkness splattered with occasional sun that manages to seep through. He spots a white hare leaping away, watches birds flutter from the trees. At one point you guide him to cross the river on a fallen tree, green with moss and bundles of young sedge. Behind your skipping form he walks carefully, arms outstretched for balance.

His heart freezes when he steps down onto the other side, catching sight of a grey wolf waiting its turn. He clutches your hand as the creature steps forwards, two smaller ones following. They look at him blankly before leaping onto the natural bridge, continuing their own journey without looking back.

When he turns to you, you are smiling, and tug him forwards once more. The sun starts to stream in, brightening as pines transition to those oak and maple and chestnut trees. The ground is no longer soft, but firm dirt and clumps of rocks, leading to one larger slab of jagged earth that juts out from the mountain entirely.

You step out into the sun and he follows, taking in the view in front of him.

He is not at the peak of the mountain, maybe halfway there, but the outlook forces him to understand the vastness of the valley. He can see the large span of the mountains as they roll and crawl in the distance, his house a small square along others. The river is more apparent, winding intensely down the mountain and softening into a gentle curve next to the village. He can see crop fields and the road that has taken him to Osaka before.

You speak, the first time since bringing him into the water, “Some people climb mountains to look from above. I like when I still feel inside of it, can still see what’s happening.”

Kita thinks he understands, remembers the way the mountains from his house are like a promising wall, a guardian. How the depth of the valley cradles him. He thinks of the hare and the birds, the wolves, the journey here striking wonder and awe into his heart. He recalls that feeling of being watched, your gaze always near.

The sun approaches its peak in the sky, nearly noon. It illuminates the valley, brings light into the forest behind them. Kita watches it light up your face, already bright from your joyful expressions.

“Happy birthday, Shin-chan,” you tell him, taking him by surprise. He forgot, in the excitement of the past hours with you. Granny gave him some books this morning as a gift. You’re giving him the forest. His smile is small and reserved, but it’s the first time he offers one back to you.

He thinks he understands now: what you meant when you said home.

The sight of your back with a hand pulling him along defines the next year. After you show Kita the forest, he trusts you wholly, no doubt that you will look after him. He is happily tugged again and again into that realm of magic. He encounters more animals—badgers and pigs, bears and herons. In the winter he sees foxes and macaques. The river freezes and snow becomes the new carpet of the forest. You don’t shiver either, he learns.

You take him to the summit once, so he can see the view. The pine transitions to a highland, bald of trees and instead coated in grass and shrubs. It’s beautiful, a clear day when the entirety of the valley is visible and he can spot granny’s home, how it sits across from Fujiwara-san’s. When he looks up, there is only the blue of the sky, not a single speck of cloud coverage. They stay until dark and watch the Milky Way span across the blackness of night, its subtle hues of pinks and blues, the way meteors shower down in flashes.

He watches life rise from the ground when the weather warms once again, as seedlings sprout and newborn animals wander through the land. Flowers bloom, coating pockets of earth in the full spectrum of light. He is witness to deer learning to walk, stumbling awkwardly over roots and rocks. He sees the other clumsy ways animals go about the world, how a sparrow drops its worm, how a duck trips and rolls into the river behind its mother. He collects these moments in his memory, happy to observe, solely to understand.

And you observe him, because Kita knows that is what you are meant to do. He still doesn’t know who you are, or why him, but he feels your eyes constantly. He doesn’t admit it, but they are comforting.

On the days you two are not parading in the mountain, you are still usually in each other’s presence. Kita no longer reads while you look over his shoulder or sit on the other side of the room. He reads to you, the books granny rents him from the library. You like to lay on the veranda while he sits and swings his feet, paying close attention to pronouncing the words. He still cleans up after you, since you never fully get the hang of doing things yourself. It’s only crumbs and small puddles, untidy blankets or cushions, an untucked chair at the table after dinner. He finds himself volunteering to take granny’s extra harvest of leeks to Fujiwara-san’s, under the pretense that he wants her to rest.

He walks there briskly, and stays for an additional hour. You have a lot to say, your nosiness still strong even after nearly a year.

“Jii-chan told me you’re starting school soon,” you say, eating one of the leeks. He watches you chew the entirety of it, uncooked. Some water squeezes out and dribbles onto the floor.

“In April,” he replies. April is two weeks away. It’s when he’ll go to Osaka. He’s supposed to stay there for the week leading up to school to prepare. He gets the sense that you’re leaving too.

You don’t look sad, and his shoulders feel tense when he notices. He’s not sure why.

Kita doesn’t ever ask unnecessary questions, but right now he is compelled to ask you many things. Sometimes it seems like you understand what he’s thinking, but you never respond unless he says it outright. As a result, he never gets to know.

He surprises both himself and you when he asks, “Are ya goin’ to school, too?” He already knows you aren’t.

You shake your head. He wants to ask why, wants to ask if you’re going somewhere else. He wants to know if you’ll be here when he comes back during break. He wants to figure out why you came in the first place.

Another question: “Are ya goin’ home?”

You nod your head this time. He watches you, thinking you’ll return to the pine forest. You shake your head when he thinks it, and give him the reprieve of elaborating. “The river.”

He frowns, confused. The river? You were always in the forest, guiding him along its greenery. He thinks about how he has to wade upstream to enter the forest in the west. He recalls the memory from years ago, a child in the water watching him.

“I came from the forest,” you try to explain, “but the water’s my home now.”

Kita is reminded that he was born in Osaka, but would always rather be at granny’s house in the northern mountains.

It’s hard for him to leave granny’s, more than any time before. When the driver comes to get him and he squeezes in the back with granny, he looks out the window towards Fujiwara’s house. You sit on the veranda, waving while your legs swing. This time the sun is high in the sky and the river releases a blinding reflection. When the car drives away and he can no longer see you, his chest hurts.

Osaka does not make it easier. His mother coos at how big he’s grown while his father watches disinterested. Kita is shown his baby brother, now a toddler awkwardly walking around and speaking. Kita doesn’t know how to talk to him, but he tries. He says hello to his sister—who he hasn’t seen since she decided to stay in the city—when she finally makes an appearance at dinner. Granny stays for the meal and the night, and then leaves in the morning.

That night, the second one in Osaka, he cries while laying in bed. He isn’t sure why, the feelings simply overwhelming and in need of release. The squishy mattress in a raised bed frame doesn’t comfort him. He thinks about you, about granny. The mountains and the forest. The river. When he looks outside his window—a square of glass punched through plaster walls—he only sees pavement and blocks of concrete. Other homes, maybe with other children crying for reasons they can’t explain. There is no mountain in the distance or river running along the ground. The sky is hazy, no stars in sight. The only twinkling comes from his own eyes, his teary squinting blurring streetlights and windows with every blink. Each time his eyes close, for a moment he thinks he can see you.

If Shinsuke is one thing, he is malleable. He can fit himself into environments, his adherence to routine giving him a means of finding comfort no matter where he is placed. Responsibility grounds him, distracts him. He can redirect his energy to doing well in school, looking after his brother. These things feel good to him, to simply do them well.

Even though you are not with him, he can feel your eyes at all times. He is reminded of being at granny’s, her washing the floor as she tells him that the spirits are everywhere, always watching. He finds himself cleaning up after his brother, thinking of you. He wonders what you think, if you’re reminded of the same.

School is as alien as Osaka, with its concrete exterior and plastered walls. They are painted white and lined with large sheets of glass. They slide open, but only for students to shout at their friends outside, not to let the morning air in.

In class, he sits quietly at his desk and listens to the teacher. He doesn't talk with other students or pass notes under the desk. He doesn’t even wonder about you, the feeling of your eyes always on him. He watches the teacher closely, diligently records the lessons. He watches other students, gathering first impressions and additional observations. He notices the way some of them doze off or scribble in their books. He sees the meaningful glances some make to each other, usually girls as they eye each other and specific boys in the class.

When he studies for his first exam, he thinks that he can feel you in the room with him. First looking over his shoulder—a cool breeze wafting from behind him, and then laying on his bed—the sheets oddly chilly when he goes to sleep. He remembers how you sat by him while he read aloud just a few weeks ago. He murmurs to himself as he reviews information, wondering if you can hear him.

Kita scores at the top of his class. He doesn’t feel anything when teachers congratulate him and other students whine. There is no pride in his chest or sense of satisfaction at the results. He thinks back to his nights studying, your presence lingering over him. It just feels good, he thinks, to do things well. The process of trying and dedicating himself to something.

He makes a routine out of it, delegating time after school to review material. It falls easily into his schedule, after dinner and before he readies for bed. He still has time to play with his brother, usually reading or offering him toys. His sister is always gone, either busy with club activities or friends. His parents get home late too, but they usually manage to have a full family dinner.

They’re eating quietly, having debriefed their days as they reach the end of their meal. Kita glances at his family, realizing that they’re different from the people at school. He’s known them for his whole life, people without first impressions and instead ingrained understandings. He looks at them intently, notices the way they eat, listens to the way they speak. He knows them intuitively, no running list in his mind to keep track of information. He is reminded of the time you asked about his hair, and he stares at his mom, then his dad. His mom’s hair is long and brown, artificially lightened from its original dark color. His dad’s is black with a sprinkling of silver from age. Kita wonders if his will do the opposite when he grows old.

There’s another exam the following week, this one for his science class. Kita is the first one in the classroom, watching students filter in. The boy who sits next to him—Daiki, tall and skinny—plops down with a sigh just a few minutes before the teacher is supposed to arrive.

“Gahh, I’m so nervous,” he says to Kita, laying his head on the desk. When Kita doesn’t respond, he asks, “Are you?”

Kita shakes his head at that, not sure why he would be. He studied.

When the results come back after a few days Daiki whines that Kita is a goody-goody, trying his hardest to get the teacher’s attention. Kita looks at his full marks and once again feels nothing. He thinks it is the natural result of his efforts. He wonders what you would say, if he could talk to you. He thinks you would ask nosey questions about his siblings. It makes his chest feel hollow.

Some kids try to be his friend, or at least try to talk to him. But he’s quiet, not very eloquent or forgiving with his words, and so they eventually leave him alone. He thinks about how you diligently stood by him, how you smiled when he scolded you.

When he gets home and returns to his room, it is exactly as he left it. There are no crumbs to sweep or puddles to wipe. His brother is out with the nanny, but he feels restless, the need to do something. He thinks he can get started on his homework early, pulling out his notebooks and folders. He can’t focus on the words, eyes skimming the pages without understanding. He knows that studying now is futile, and decides to continue later. He settles on bathing early instead.

His bath draws on, longer than usual. He finds himself pausing, getting lost in thought—though more lost in feeling, since his mind drifts blankly. He’s still restless by the time he finishes, but slightly relaxed. He stands to wrap himself with the towel and steps carefully onto the bath rug. Once he’s dried and his towel is secure around his waist, he leans over to pull the plug and let the water drain. Just as he grasps it, there’s a lurch of water that spills out and onto the floor. His eyes widen in disbelief and his chest flares with annoyance knowing he will have to clean the mess. He looks at the floor incredulously before turning back to the bath and—

His eyes widen further, mouth opening slightly at the sight of you—a misty figure over the water. You’re wearing a sheepish expression as you lean over the edge to assess the mess.

“Sorry,” you say quietly. Kita's disbelief increases at the sound of your voice. “I’m still getting the hang of it.”

Kita slams the plug back down and stands to face you clearly. He feels the water pooled at his feet, but all irritation has fled his body. Instead he is filled with a warmth, a contrast to the coolness wafting from you.

“You made a mess,” he tells you, unnecessarily. You know that already.

“Yeah,” you say. You apologize again.

“Don’ do it again,” he tries to scold. His body wants to step forward, to reach you. He’s not sure why, and he frowns with skepticism.

You nod, then lift your leg experimentally. When it’s pulled above the water, there are no droplets falling. Instead, you appear airy, like the water sits around your body. You step out and onto the bathroom floor, successfully avoiding increasing the mess. You smile brightly at your success. Kita continues to watch, wondering if you’ll disappear, evaporate at any moment. You look at the water on the floor and then meet his eyes, smile turning sheepish again.

“I should mop,” you tell him, breaking him from his quiet spell.

“I’ll do it,” he says immediately. “Jus’...jus’ don’ go anywhere.”

You nod.

Mopping helps him calm down, perhaps needing a task to manage his agitation. You watch, and then follow him to his room once he’s finished. He dresses while you distractedly rummage through his things, then walks over to you at his desk. He feels a wetness under his foot and looks down, seeing footprints scattered along the floor. They’re light and clearly yours, and he ignores them, continuing over to you.

“You can go back to studying,” you tell him.

He can’t bring himself to look away. He’s not sure why, chest tight with anticipation.

There’s a knock at the door, mom’s sign that dinner is ready. The noise startles you and there is a poof, the sound of you evaporating into mist, wafting up to the ceiling. Gone. The only traces of you are those faint, damp footprints and few misplaced items on his desk.

For the first time in a long time, Kita feels a sinking disappointment.

Adolescence

Contrary to what he expected, Kita doesn’t leave Osaka during break. His parents think it would be good for him to have a consistent lifestyle. Kita doesn’t protest, but he can feel a heaviness in his stomach. He asks about granny, if he’ll see her soon. They tell him she will visit some time, and she does, though rarely. He thinks about the forest and the mountains, when he’ll see them again.

On the first day of fourth grade, Kita wakes up on time. He uses the toilet, washes his face, brushes his teeth, and changes his clothes at his usual pace. As he splashes cool water along his forehead and cheeks, he is reminded of your touch and wonders if he will see you this morning. He often finds himself waiting, without realizing until a significant amount of time has already passed. You are irregular and unpredictable. It puts him on edge, that you might disrupt his perfectly crafted routine.

He is the first to sit down for breakfast and the first one to finish, everyone else but his mother just having started. He stands to put his dishes away and gather his school things when she rushes into the room. She’s fumbling with her shoe, trying to get it in place while collecting her things to fill her purse. Her face brightens when she sees him and asks about his first day, if he’s excited or nervous.

Kita shakes his head, neither. He’s been going to school nearly everyday for years now, what reason would he have to be nervous? What’s to be excited for?

He turns to leave, but she calls for him. She asks if he’s planning to join a club.

He shakes his head again, not sure why he should.

But his mother protests, “I think it’d be good for you to do a sport. You don’t exercise much, with all the studying.”

His father hums in agreement from the table and his sister stands to excuse herself. His brother knocks his bowl over, spoon clattering to the ground. Without hesitation, Kita walks over to return it.

“Just try one, okay?” his mom asks. Kita nods in response before finally leaving.

In his room, he gathers his books and school supplies into his backpack, double checking that everything is there. He slips it over his shoulders and then turns to the window. It’s translucent with a sheen of moisture from inside. He wipes it away and glances at the sky. It’ll probably rain, he gauges. As he steps away from the window to leave, he catches a glimpse of you in the reflection.

His first day of school is like any other, spent seated at his desk near the center of the room, watching the teacher, observing his classmates. He diligently helps clean at the end of the day: sweeping duty, not missing a single spot. Once finished, he changes his shoes and makes for the exit. Some students say goodbye, and he nods in return. He can hear the soft pattering of rain as he approaches the door, and pops open his umbrella before stepping outside.

The walk home is quiet, with occasional groups of students chattering by. Kita walks at his typical pace, unrushed. He hears his shoes tap against the pavement with each step, the plopping of raindrops above his head. The occasional car rushes by, veering aside to avoid splashing him. He runs through a mental list of what he needs to do for school, but it’s short given it being the first day.

When he’s only a few minutes from home, he hears splashing behind him, as if someone is running through a puddle. You, calling his name.

He doesn’t turn to look, but his steps slow while his heart speeds, giving you time to catch up. Within a few seconds you are by his side, your now-usual misty and translucent figure at his side. You smile when he glances at you, but he appears unfazed. You’re unbothered as you walk with him, light on your feet.

When he reaches the door of his home and unlocks it, you let yourself in first. He closes his umbrella and gives it a shake before setting it on the rack. While he removes his shoes in the genkan, he eyes the light trail of footprints you left on your way to his room. He leaves them, knowing they’ll evaporate before anyone else comes home. He stops by the kitchen, dumping a bag of carrots onto a small plate, and then he briskly enters his room and closes the door behind him.

He sees you laying on his bed and he feels an itch of annoyance, knowing the sheets will be damp. But he doesn’t say anything, instead setting the plate on his desk and sliding his bag onto the floor. You smile and ask how his day was.

This has become part of Kita's routine, your irregular visits. He walks through life with an anxious anticipation, waiting for you to come. He is relieved when you appear, but he is never entirely pleased. There’s a warmth in his chest regardless, one that reminds him of granny.

He wonders if maybe that’s why he accepts the interruption so easily, because it momentarily brings him home, his life in the mountains, granny’s voice telling him that someone is watching over him. He knows that someone is you. He wonders if granny knows about your visits, if you ever tell her about him.

His answers are short, per usual. But he talks about his classes, his classmates, how mom wants him to join a club. He knows that you know all this, but he says it anyways, gives into you.

“Do you know what club you’ll join?” you ask.

He shrugs. “A sport, since I should exercise.”

You nod at that, “It’s too bad the forest is so far away. Exploring is good exercise.”

Kita thinks about the forest often, seeping into his spare time when he’s not caught up in classes or the growing responsibilities of life. He’s heard from mom about wildfires in Hyogo, ones that spring at random in the dryness of summertime. Luckily nothing near home, but still within the province. He recounts those memories of rabbits and monkeys, remembers the flowers that are blooming right about now. He's curious if it’s raining, how visible the stars are tonight. These questions bring a pain to his chest, one he can’t explain, one that doesn’t make sense. Sometimes he calls granny and the pain goes away. Sometimes it gets worse.

When you’re in his room with him like this, he thinks it’s a different pain entirely.

Eventually your questions lull and Kita knows that this is his queue to start his schoolwork. He doesn’t have much to do, though. Instead he wants to ask a question of his own. You can tell, and you wait.

He doesn’t know how to phrase it, so he never asks. As a result, you never answer.

A week later the school allows them to pick clubs. Kita looks at the other hopeful kids as they play rock-paper-scissors for a spot for the popular sports: basketball, football, baseball. He eyes the groups that are smaller, have less interest. The running club looks crowded, so he makes his way over. He still has to do a round of rock-paper-scissors, and he’s one of the three who have to find another option. To his right is another small group, and he asks to join without knowing what they are. Volleyball, apparently. He’s not sure if he’ll be any good, but he figures it’s only for the year and he can try something different in fifth grade.

Volleyball, it turns out, is difficult. He learns how to receive a ball, but it flies in the opposite direction of where he wants it to go. He watches the other players, trying to understand how to improve himself.

Volleyball, it turns out, is technical and requires a lot of practice to sharpen his skills. He diligently attends practice, two days a week for fourth-graders. The coaches appreciate his efforts, how he runs his full laps and takes every suggestion seriously. Kita finds that he just enjoys the process of training, improving his abilities and caring for his body. His legs feel tired at the end of the day and it reminds him of running through the forest. It reminds him of his efforts, makes him feel good.

Volleyball, it turns out, is the perfect distraction. From you.

It becomes part of his routine, filling in the gaps of time that he normally finds himself waffling in, waiting for you. He learns to walk through everyday as if it’s the same, just himself, but allows it to shuffle when you make an appearance.

Volleyball helps as he enters middle school and your visits lose frequency. Your lack of presence, however, makes the feeling of your gaze on him even stronger. He feels it every time he’s on the court—though he only ever plays games in practice. He in turn watches his teammates, their ticks and habits. He watches his opponents, offers notes to his team about patterns and flaws in their styles. He’s not a powerhouse like the standout players, doesn’t have any exceptional talent, and so despite his hard work and consistent practice, he doesn’t play a single game, doesn’t even receive a jersey.

You ask him about it one evening, on break before high school starts.

“Are you going to join the volleyball club?” you ask, to which he nods. It makes you hum as you sit on his bed. He can see the wall behind you, how it darkens slightly from the moisture of your form leaning against it.

“I hope you get the chance to play more,” you tell him honestly. “I don’t know why they don’t let you.”

But it means nothing to him, that sort of attention and recognition. He just plays to play the game, do the drills, learn the mechanics—to take care of himself. You know this, but you like watching him, the way he watches the game, moves with it, into it.

He doesn’t say anything in response, knowing that you know what he thinks.

Instead of pushing further, you change the subject. “I’m not going to be able to visit very often,” you tell him. You sound regretful, and his chest is agitated. He thinks of the fires, happening at random across the country.

“I know,” he tells you. He could sense it, recognized the increasing infrequency of your presence. He wants to ask why, but he can’t get the words out, for whatever reason.

You look at him closely and say, “I’ll be around though.”

He nods at that. He knows.

Inarizaki is a prestigious school, known for academics and athletics alike. Kita makes it in easily with his grades, and joins the volleyball club despite knowing he will likely never play in a match. The coaches note that Kita is inexperienced in competition, but they know an asset when they see one. His skills are too sturdy, too well-practiced for Inarizaki to not take advantage of him.

During his first year, he hardly plays. Even so, he is the first at practice, one of the last ones to leave, and the most diligent athlete on the team. He runs the entire length of the track, finishes every rep during weight training, and completes every drill and penalty without complaint. The coaches find that he does not have star power—he is unassuming and ordinary—but he is exceptional in his efforts, and his efforts meet returns when it counts, when they need him on the court as his usual Kita-san.

Some of the older players tease him for his diligence, others admire him because of it. Everyone realizes that he pays no mind to what they think, only ever doing what he wants, what fits his values. He respects his elders even when he disagrees with them, but he is blunt with his fellow first years, unafraid to call out their behavior, especially if it contradicts something they’ve said before. Some say it’s rich coming from him, someone who only warms the bench.

Aran is the one who talks to him, one day in the locker room. A tense conversation between Michinari and Shinsuke unraveled earlier when Kita commented on how the libero attempted too many unpracticed receives in-game, that he should have stuck to underhand until he perfected his overhand off the court. Michi has a temper, and his frustration was pushed by the spiker’s comment. He shouted that Kita wouldn’t understand, that he hasn’t been put in a game, hasn’t had the opportunity to feel the pressures of expectation.

Aran lingered when the others filed out of the locker room—partially to make sure Kita was okay, and partially to suggest he cool it with the critique.

“Don’t take it to heart,” he offers. “Akagi-san gets bad nerves. He knows what he needs to do.”

“I don’t understand the point of being nervous,” Kita responds.

A machine, Aran thinks. This guy is a machine. He says as much, and thinks there’s truth to Michi’s comments, that Kita must not understand because he’s never played in a match that counted.

But Kita explains—that it doesn’t make sense if you’ve practiced the skills and know your capabilities. That it’s the same with eating, shitting even. He thinks Michi’s underhand receives are enough, that they have saved the ball from Inarizaki’s own powerhouses in practice. Why would he need to try anything else?

Aran’s eyes widen as Kita speaks, starting to understand his perspective. It becomes apparent that his criticism towards Michi was more of a poorly delivered compliment: that their first-year libero is enough as he is, that he could save them with the tools he knows—he doesn’t need miracles. This glimpse into Kita puts Aran’s teammate in a new light, recontextualizes his diligent attitude towards their training and the criticism he gives his peers. He trusts the process, knows that the results will follow suit.

Aran begins to notice how Kita fades to the back, his presence unassuming on its own. Kita does not play for recognition or adulation, he simply does what needs to be done. His diligence to get every ball in the air goes unnoticed when the flashy ace pulls an impressive cross against three blockers—a move that would not have been possible without Kita, committed behind him. But Kita doesn’t care, doesn’t ask for attention.

Aran already held immense respect for his teammate, for his repetition, diligence, and perseverance. But now he feels a special type of awe when he watches him more closely.

Kita does not make a fuss of convincing others of his praiseworthy traits, but Aran takes it upon himself to point them out to his team, to give new context to Kita's seemingly harsh words. Slowly but surely, they will understand, too.

What Aran doesn’t know is that Kita feels like he has already been noticed and recognized, always has been and always will be, at every moment—by you.

(Your eyes continue to bore into him no matter where he is. They feel stronger the longer he goes without seeing you. Your visits are few and far between, but he has his routine, knows to follow it independently and let it shape around your irregularity.)

The following season, a handful of talented first years join, including a freakishly synchronized twin duo and a sly middle blocker. They fight with each other. Some of them cut corners. One particularly troublesome one likes to work himself through illness, inspiring misguided awe in other first years. Kita as a second year has no qualms scolding his teammates, now sometimes including his upperclassmen. The underclassmen pout and grumble while the elders know the intent resting behind his abrasion.

You only visit him twice during the school year, both times at the hotel for nationals. The first is during the Interhigh National Tournament; he is sitting in the tub at the end of the day, running through his observations of other teams he saw, considering what would be useful to share with the others, to exploit. His head is resting on the ledge of the tub, staring at the blank ceiling as a canvas for him to visualize what he saw: bad crosses, a fragile ego, delayed timing for a back attack. He thinks about the team they’re playing tomorrow, the most imperative information to note. He thinks he should finish bathing so he can write it down.

When he straightens his head to look forward, he jolts in surprise, water splashing out and onto the bathroom floor.

You’re there, sitting on the other end of the bath in your misty form. Your eyes are wide, head turning to look at the puddles on the tile. Kita can’t even consider the mess, body tense at your proximity. He’s never been flustered around you before, never felt strange about his nakedness if you appeared after a bath. It’s been a long time since you’ve come from a bath. And this—this is a closeness and intimacy he has never imagined. You, sharing the water, right beside him. He is frozen when your eyes move back to his face.

“I’m sorry I scared you,” you whisper, and he recalls another variable to add to the situation: Aran, likely still in their shared room.

Kita shakes his head, not knowing what to say. “You—” he stutters, unlike him. “What’re ya doin’.” Ever since middle school you only appeared in the rain. He didn’t know bathtubs were even still a…vessel of transportation.

You smile. “Good luck tomorrow.”

Kita blinks, torn between the urge to scold you, the urge to reach for you, and the urge to make you leave before Aran learns of your presence. He finds it exhausting, the way you pit these conflicting pieces of him against each other.

Instead he tells you, “I probably won’ play.”

You shake your head, still smiling. “You’re doing it right now.” The analysis of his opponents, you mean.

A sound at the door makes you jolt, the water softly rippling around you. It’s Aran, asking if things are okay. He doesn’t comment further, but he swears he hears the murmuring of voices.

Kita calls back that he’s fine, just about to get out and be done for the night. He gives you a look afterwards, a sign that you can’t stay. He wishes you could.

You surprise him by leaning forwards, reaching for him. He is suddenly swept into your chilly embrace, arms wrapping around his shoulders. His body is tense, on edge from the intimacy, but he only feels your body above the water, arms and chest and head as it settles into his neck. Despite your cold temperature, Kita's body heats at the contact.

“I’ll see you,” you say, and then you are mist, dispersing into the air.

When Kita exits the bathroom, Aran thinks for the first time that he looks amused—a mirth settled in his eyes and his lips slightly quirked.

A few months later during the Spring High Nationals, you appear in his room, again shared with Aran. Luckily the spiker is out for the moment, allowing Kita the freedom to speak with you. He’s getting dressed from the bath while you flop onto his bed. When he finishes he stands over you, inquiring why you came.

“To wish you luck again.”

Where you’re laying on the bed, his hand hangs by his hip only inches from your face. He is called to reach for it, hold it gently. He’s not sure why but this visit makes him uneasy, like it could be the last. He wonders if these are nerves.

The sound of the key opening the door interrupts his thinking. You have already faded into the air by the time Aran enters, followed by the twins barreling their way past him.

Atsumu (the obnoxious) immediately makes for Kita's bed. He flops down onto it, not unlike how you did minutes before, but immediately tenses and shrieks. He rolls himself off, pushing Kita back from where he was standing, all while shouting, “Kitaaa! Why’s it wet—”

Kita thinks he should thank you, next time you visit.

You don’t visit again.

Rather, Kita goes home to you. He decides to leave for break instead of sticking around for club practice, a choice he’s never made since he started volleyball. Something in him calls to visit granny. So at the end of March he boards the train headed towards the north station, and then hails a ride to the village. Granny is home when he arrives, and she marvels at how tall he is, not having seen him since she visited in middle school.

He towers over her small figure, awkwardly hunching in a hug. Granny says that he’ll be a big help with his height, and over the next day she sets him to dust the high shelves and put away dishes. She comments that he can move the table in the main room all on his own, no longer small, five year old Shin-chan.

The ease Kita feels in himself when he is here, with granny in the mountains, is undeniably because this is his home. He is malleable, shapeable to the life he’s lived in Osaka, but this is where he should be. He knows that when he enters this final year of high school, he will be given a sheet that asks for his three career plans. With his grades and diligent work ethic, he knows that he can put himself on any path and make it work. But in this moment, in granny’s embrace, the warmth of a home lined with screens and tatami, Kita knows that he wants to be here, no matter what.

That night he lays out his futon, smoothing out the creases and carefully lining it to be perpendicular with the wall. He smiles, this routine of preparing his bed one of many things he missed in the city. Before he lays down, he is overcome by the feeling of being watched. He turns to the screens that lead outside, towards the river. He walks over and opens them, looking into the darkness of the night.

The moon hangs low in the sky—a crescent, a smile. It shines softly on the water, Fujiwara-san’s house behind it, and the form of the mountains beyond. You aren’t there, but the river is misty, a bluish haze settling thickly on its surface.

In the morning he decides to go for a run, an attempt to maintain conditioning while he’s gone from practice. He goes left—west—towards your mountain.

The jog is peaceful, with March air cool and crisp against his skin. He is calmed by the sound of the water rushing next to him, running the opposite way. There are birds singing when he passes and a small hare jets by his feet. Running feels like a trip through his memory, recounting the times he tried to keep up with your pace, the adventures you went on together. He is running through the blue of wanderlust, along the breathing water and between the distant mountains, under the bright sky above him. He is running through the green of nostalgia, the lush vegetation, stalks of bamboo and solid trees, mostly oak and maple and chestnut, but occasionally the mysterious pine.

He is running to you.

It isn’t apparent until he reaches the end of the path, to that rock face at the foot of the mountain, and you are there—in the flesh—waiting in the river. The water is cold during spring, and yet you smile warmly, unfazed by the temperature. When he takes your hand to let you guide him through the water, through soft pine and hazy light, your touch is cool and refreshing against his—hot from exertion.His heart lurches at the contact, an inexplicable mix of tightness and lightness blooming in his chest. He can’t tell if it’s hollowing him out or overfilling him. It feels like hello and farewell all at once. There is a knot in his stomach, one that feels like nerves. It is exhilarating, magnetizing, like falling into you completely. He lets himself. He has no other option.

You come back with him to granny’s and have breakfast together. She doesn’t say anything, only calls you “dear” and thanks you for your help cleaning up. She does not mention Fujiwara and neither do you. Kita feels whole, sitting on the floor at this table.

At night you sit and watch as he prepares his futon. He looks at you and asks, “D’ya need one?”

You shake your head, smiling. “Don’t sleep.”

He nods before getting up to turn off the light. He opens the soft blanket and lays down. He turns to you, hesitating. He wants to know if you’re staying, if you’ll be here all night. Part of him wants to invite you to lay next to him.

He doesn’t say anything, just looks at you curiously.

You are smiling over him, as always. One of your hands reaches to smooth back his hair and he softens. Even with your skin always cold, his body will forever warm at your touch.

These days continue and Kita feels light, enjoying time with you, as a person. His questions fade after he succumbs to focusing on soaking in your presence. It feels good, not unlike the satisfaction of completing his daily rituals.

He looks at you closely, the way you’ve grown with him. You are still smiling, still diligent in ways that he initially failed to see as a five year old. Watchful, joyful. He doesn’t feel the smile on his face, a small one that granny notices. You are smiling too, as you take dishes he’s finished washing and run a rag across their surface. You miss some spots, little droplets sticking to the ceramic. Some fly off and land on the floor and counter.

Kita is entirely at ease. It is quaint, quiet, content.

After a few moments, you suddenly pause your drying and turn thoughtfully, towards the river. Kita watches as the faintest furrow appears between your brows, your face both pensive and concerned. You drop the rag on the counter and step away. He stares curiously, still scrubbing a plate.

“I’ll be back in a second,” you say. Nothing else, no unnecessary information.

Fear germinates in his chest, his heartbeat picking up speed. Granny smiles at him, reassured. He wonders how she retains her calm demeanor.

When nearly ten minutes pass and you don't return, Kita tells granny he’s going to check on you. She nods in understanding as he slips on his sandals and exits through the genkan. He spots you immediately, standing between the house and the river. You’re facing the northern mountains with a frown on your face. Kita realizes this is the first time he’s seen you anything but joyful.

You answer his silent question when he stands beside you, “There’s something wrong.”

“In the forest?” he clarifies. You nod, looking onwards. He watches you for a silent minute, the way you study the sky over the ridge.

“I think…” you start. Pause. “You should leave, with your gran. And everyone else.”

Kita's brow furrows as he looks at you skeptically. You turn to him, eyes unwavering. You never look this serious. Always nosy, unnecessary questions. Lighthearted. Messes on the floor.

“Shinsuke,” you say firmly. He startles at the sound of his full name. “Tell everyone there’s a fire—in the northern mountains. I’ll try to keep it at bay, but it’s spreading. By the time they see it, it’ll be too late. If you can evacuate the houses on the other side of the river before it’s visible, things should be okay.”

He feels a strike in his lungs, like he’s gasping for breath. He wants to ask for details, but you’ve made it clear there’s no time. You are grabbing him, your cool hand holding his wrist, as you start towards the bridge in a run. He is momentarily brought back to his sixth birthday, running behind you as you guide him along the path to the base of a mountain—your mountain. He remembers thinking that running behind you was fun.

This time you are serious, almost panicked, bringing him across the river and pointing at the houses, which ones he should evacuate first. The ones with the oldest people. Fujiwara-san is one of them. You let go of his hand and run, sprint towards the base of the mountain. He feels panicked, wondering how long it’ll take for you to come back. What it means for you to keep the fire at bay. You fade away, the blue of distance settling between you two, mistiness.

The next moments are a blur. He knocks on doors and is greeted by elders he hasn’t seen in years, ready to exclaim at how he’s grown. Their coos are interrupted by his apologies, an explanation that he got news of a wildfire and wants to make sure people have time to evacuate. He suggests that they get into their cars and head east near the highway, and to wait for official advice for next steps. He says the words, but they don’t fully register when his mind is still occupied with the memory of you sprinting to the danger. The families look at him skeptically, but they get a move on when they remember this is Shin-chan, the quiet and good-natured village boy.

He makes his way down the homes to relay the news. He asks neighbors to tell the others, and to call emergency services. There are 26 homes on this side of the river, and by the time he knocks on half the doors, smoke hangs over the mountains. No fire is in sight, but the signs are there. It makes the next conversations much quicker, and he is relieved as he watches cars pile out towards the highway.

Suddenly an alarm starts blaring. The emergency intercoms spaced along the neighborhood release a sharp and repeating warning sound. A deep voice calls out between the noise, commanding evacuation. Kita's breath is labored from the exertion of running between houses, but his chest feels lighter knowing that his responsibility has been lifted.

By the time he crosses the bridge back to granny’s home, the sky has darkened significantly, black smog blowing along and spewing upwards. There’s the slight lick of a flame creeping over the ridge and he feels his heart begin to gallop. His stomach clenches roughly when his mind flashes with images of the western mountain forest, deer and wolves and rabbits and birds. Flowers and pine and ferns. He glances that way and sees that it’s still untouched, for now.

He runs inside granny’s, calling for her to get in a neighbor’s car, since she doesn’t own one herself. She stands slowly, at her elderly pace, and Kita is restless as he helps her exit the house as quickly as she can. He takes another glance at the mountains and his heart plummets at the sight. The fire has crept over the ridge, and he can hear the distant crackling as it runs forward. Kita's eyes trail down to a figure by the bank on the opposite end of the river and recognizes you. His chest constricts with relief and concern at the sight. He tells granny to walk down to the next door neighbor, to see if she can evacuate with them. He has to lower his head to her ear so he can be heard over the sounds of the sirens and the voice on the intercom.

He starts jogging towards the bridge, to cross it, but you yell his name. It’s loud and fierce, a demand to stay put. It has a firmness that forces him to listen.

His feet stop, now directly across from you. He can see your face, the intensity in your glare. You’ve never looked at him this way.

“Don’t come!” you yell, voice almost lost over the commotion.

Kita is frowning, brow furrowed and mouth open in disbelief. He doesn’t have time to yell back before you continue.

“You have to go, Shin!” You shout. Kitas chest is heavy, and his shoulders are rigid. The flames are growing closer, rolling down the mountain. There’s a gust of wind and it blows the smoke towards the village. He can feel the heat of the burning forest.

Suddenly there are popping sounds, loud like fireworks squealing and shooting through the air. He doesn’t understand where they’re coming from, what they mean. They don’t stop, ringing through the valley and compounding with the blaring alarms, the warning voice on the speakers.

Kita doesn’t want to leave. When he looks at you, the despaired expression on your face and the many layers of hurt—layers he doesn’t understand, has never understood because he never asked—he knows that he can’t leave you. He has to do something, he is restless, like a child waiting for something that has no regular pattern, no rhyme or reason to be there in the first place. You, visiting him in Osaka.

But you won’t have any of it. “GO, SHIN!” you yell, voice booming—akin to a clap of thunder. The popping and splintering noises grow louder, and it strikes him that they are from the bamboo at the base of the mountain, the moisture in their chambers expanding enough to turn into deadly explosives. He sees a flock of birds lift from the forest behind you and fly east.

He tastes salt—tears, rolling down his cheeks and through his open lips. His voice is choked as he yells back in a desperate attempt for you to leave with him.

“I’m yer burden,” he reminds you, face scrunched in pain. His voice isn’t as loud as it should be, for you to hear him across the river. But he knows you can anyways, knows that you know he means don’t leave me, I’m the one you’re supposed to look after.

You smile sadly. He can’t tell if you’re crying too, but he can feel the same pain on your end. Your voice is equally too quiet to be heard when you respond, but it rings clearly in his mind.

“But I’m not yours.”

Your gaze is looking behind him, beyond him. He turns and his eyes widen, spotting granny slowly making her way down the path. His stomach churns—she didn’t catch the neighbor driving away. She’s coughing, unable to walk at the same time. With the smoke blowing over and granny’s old lungs, she can’t carry onwards alone. Kita hears himself curse and he rushes to her side, no hesitation as he lifts her frail body against his chest. Her head lands against his neck—her hair soft against his—and she coughs another long fit. He knows he has to leave.

He takes one last glance at you, then at the fire crawling towards the now-emptied homes on your side of the river. The heat is increasing, blowing towards him with more smoke and ash. Five deer appear from the woods behind you and run across the bridge. You are staring at him, urging him to follow their example. He knows that he has to take care of granny, but he thinks this is the most pain he’s ever felt, buried deep in his chest. It’s the kind of pain that comes from hollowness, recognition that something vital is missing and yet somehow life is forcing him onwards regardless. He doesn’t know why this tension is there, when there’s a clear job for him to do, to do well. His face pinches, another round of tears welling before he blinks and turns to run down the path.

In this moment, he summons that unwavering confidence he has in himself. Not one of arrogance, but from the knowledge of what he is capable of, what he does everyday without failure. He runs east along the river, clutching his grandmother close. He tells himself this is any normal day of training, running to improve his endurance for volleyball. He is running besides Suna-san, who’s looking for a shortcut. He is running behind you, on your way to explore the enchanted section of pine in the mountain.

He is a toddler, carried along the path next to the river by his grandmother, seeing a mysterious child his age standing in the water. He asks who it is, pointing to a figure that granny can’t see. She tells him that he’ll learn one day, when the time is right.

He is sprinting down the same path, through smoke billowing over the valley erupting from a fire to his left, separated only by a river. Separated by you.

The honk of a car sounds behind him, a noise he barely catches with the sirens and the voices and the explosions pounding around him. He turns and sees the car of another neighbor, ushering him to get in. He veers to his left, letting the vehicle pull up beside him, and he yanks the door open, climbing inside with granny still against his chest. They lurch forwards as the driver steps on the gas and Kita guides granny to the seat beside him, reaching over to buckle her in. The interior blasts cool air and Kita is handed a water bottle.

“The fire department’s tellin’ people to evacuate to the next city,” the neighbor says. Kita nods numbly in response, unscrewing the bottle and helping granny take a few sips. She still coughs, but they’re smaller, less frequent.

With granny somewhat stable, Kita looks out the window to his left, facing the burning mountains. The car nears the ramp to the highway, starting up a mountain east of the fire. It gives him a clear view of homes being swallowed, Fujiwara-san’s one of the first.

Kita is breathless at the sight, reminded of everything these people will lose. He recalls what is already lost: the forest, the animals, the delicate combination of life that dwells in this valley. He thinks your mountain will be lost too, watching as the fire creeps west.

The popping sounds are dwindling, with the fire moving past the burnt bamboo sections and the car speeding away from the scene of destruction. But it is not quiet. There is a sudden clap of thunder that rumbles, long and gritty and deep. Kita watches as winds blow ferociously. Untouched trees sway while burning ones topple from the force. The sky is dark, a mix of smoke and storm clouds, though Kita isn’t sure when the storm began to form. He can see the water falling from the sky, blown at a sharp angle from the strength of the wind. It pelts over the mess of heat, releasing bouts of swirling steam into the air, to condense back into rain clouds.

As the car climbs higher up the mountain and the road, Kita watches the battle unfold before him. The power of rain as it fights the flames of red and gold eating the landscape. He watches the mist rising at the contact between elements, the water evaporating on impact.

He sees you in his room, that first time in Osaka when you were startled by a knock on the door. The way you went poof and disappeared.

They house granny in Osaka, taking over Kita's sister's room since she's at university in Tokyo. Kita is the one who looks after granny most carefully. It reminds him of caring for his brother when he first came to the city. He learns that granny’s house wasn’t caught in the fire. The river was an effective barrier and the rain came in time to manage any embers that had gotten blown over. The reports on the event stated that it was a miraculous storm, one that came from nowhere, completely unpredicted. It was an eventual downpour, enough to contain the fire within minutes and smother it completely in less than a half-hour. Footage from a helicopter shows the water rushing down the gullies and pouring into the river. With it carried embers, soot, ash, all piling together and flowing downstream. The next town down the river reported black water filled with sediment. A truck came in to deliver hundreds of cases of bottled water.

Aerial images reveal that nearly every house on the northern bank was claimed, only a few saved towards the east. He sees photos of the destruction. Your forest didn’t manage to escape in time, the fire stealing your enchanted pine. He wonders if you could have saved it if you didn’t prioritize his home.

There was one death: a backpacker, the person everyone believes is responsible for the disaster. Her body was completely charred, things almost entirely unidentifiable. Emergency services only picked out the metal of a stove—the decided perpetrator.

Kita has no time to grieve, with only a week before school starts again. After he helping granny get situated in the house, he immediately went to practice as a distraction. His teammates are appalled at the news, offering pats on the back and words of condolences, sighs of relief that he was lucky to leave in time.

But they don’t know what he lost. Not just the forest and the mountains, or the ability to visit his real home for months at the earliest. Even with the fire out there may be coals smoldering underground, or dangerous air wafting in the sky. The mountains won’t be green for at least a year, needing time for seeds to take root and sprout, needing seasons to accumulate rich dirt again. There’s no telling how long it will take for animals to return, birds to nestle back into shrubs or rodents to burrow again. The wolves and the deer are surely gone, evacuated to the next viable plot of land.

These aren’t the worst of his losses. What grasps his heart tightly, enough that sometimes he struggles to breathe, is the sight of you running into that smothering roll of flames. The loss of your eyes watching over him.

He dreams of fire, of heat and searing pain. His mind flashes with streaks of red and orange, billowing greys behind it. He hears the crackling of a burning forest and the popping of erupting bamboo. He wakes up panicked some nights, coated in sweat from the searing sensations he conjures in his sleep. In these moments he thinks it would help if he could be with you, your body always cool and damp, the sort of comfort that eases him, that could put out the fires of fear that grasp him.

A week later during practice, coach hands out jerseys. Kita is called first, given the number 1—captain. He blinks in surprise, having expected it to go to Aran. Nonetheless he takes the jersey and the title, and sits on the gym floor. He doesn’t register that he’s crying until he sees the teardrops fall onto the fabric, little spots of grey appearing where it was originally white.

He can hear Suna’s comment about the unfeeling robot showing emotion. He doesn’t care. He sniffles. There is a warmth in his heart that he hasn’t felt the past two weeks. He doesn’t understand where it comes from, why this of all things brings him comfort.

He tries to explain while walking home with Aran.

“I tend to agree with the adults…that the journey is more important than the destination.” His words remind him of granny at home, the way her hair skipped over his dad and went straight to him. The ace turns to him curiously, not sure what he’s getting at.

“I am built upon the small things I do everyday, and the end results are no more than a byproduct of that.”

He’s not good enough to go pro or make a living off volleyball. He just does what needs to be done, what fits into his routine—taking care of his body, cleaning up after himself, being courteous, and…volleyball. He holds up this jersey, looks at how it’s branded with 1, the captain’s number.

“Maybe this is just another result of the things I do.”

Aran blinks, stutters for a moment when he realizes what Kita is implying. “Don’t just—don’t sweat the small stuff! You don’t have to have some sort of logic behind your feelings!! If you’re happy, then you’re happy…that’s it!”

They hold eye contact after Aran’s outburst, and then Kita erupts into laughter. The ace watches his captain skeptically, not intending for his heartfelt advice to be amusing. His shoulders slump when he realizes this is the hardest he’s seen Kita laugh, ever.

Kita is reminded of all those times he couldn’t understand what he was feeling, why he was being drawn to do something he knew he logically didn’t want. All the moments he saw you and felt skeptical of the questions he wanted to ask, the embrace he wanted to pull you in, the warmth he felt in your presence—the way his brain and his logic denied him something he wanted, because there was no explicable reason for it. He thinks of the way you left, the way it hurt like no injury he’s ever lived through. He thinks of the lack of your gaze following him since just two weeks ago, the way he misses it but refuses to admit to it.

“You’re right,” he tells Aran.

By the time school is ending and he plays his final match, you are still not watching him. He feels the eyes of his granny and the eyes of his school on his back. The brooding eyes of Karasuno are on him when he is subbed for Aran in the second set. But yours are still missing.

He, however, has his eyes on his team the entire game, picking out their mistakes and what he knows is the misguided thinking behind them: Gin’s impatience, Atsumu and Osamu’s carelessness, Suna’s laziness. He stands behind them, the defense specialist who will receive the ball, and the one who’s eyes linger on their backs. He is watching them. He is like the lingering mist that wafts behind them, telling them that someone will see, whether they work hard until the very end, or let themselves succumb to their impulses.

Kita has lived his entire life under your careful gaze. To cope with its absence, he has learned to become the omnipresent eyes backing up his team.

Adulthood

Granny always told him that someone was watching, and your gaze was proof. But at some point he realized that he wasn’t doing it for the spirits, that it didn’t matter either way. His work ethic would be the same even if you never saw him. This realization holds more weight when it is carried out in practice, Kita living his life with the same repetition, perseverance, and diligence in your absence. It makes him feel good, eases the emptiness. So he does it well, and he does it everyday.

He graduates at the top of his class, with grades that could get him into any university, launch him into any career he could imagine. And yet when the year passes and granny says she wants to return to the valley, Kita knows where he will go.

When he pulls into the neighborhood, his eyes are glued to the mountain. There are still trees and bamboo standing, though they are charred corpses. Debris of coals and fallen leaves litter the ground, coating the forest in brown and black. A light layer of green sits atop the earthy tones, sprigs of saplings and shrubs breaking the surface. Kita’s chest expands at the sight, a glimmer of hope.

There are only a few other neighbors who have returned, most still with family in the city. Kita speaks with some of them and gathers that they figure it’s a sign to leave the countryside—to better opportunities and a more convenient life. He wonders what will happen to this village if everyone decides to flee, who will take the land. Maybe the government will turn it into a Hyogo heritage site, a place people will flock to as a sort of pilgrimage. To see the brittle remains of homes and the earth’s attempt at recovery.

Kita knows that he wants to stay here, that granny does too. He’s not sure how it’ll work, but he can’t imagine himself anywhere else. His parents are skeptical, figuring that he’ll make an attempt only to eventually fold for a city job, but they forget that one of Kita’s life pillars is perseverance. He will find a way.

The way opens itself to him the following day. The April air is cool when he goes for a midday walk, crossing the bridge to the burned edge of the river. He trails along the slight incline towards the skeleton of Fujiwara’s home. There is only the charred foundation and a couple ragged beams standing upright, the rest collapsed into rubble. For a moment he can imagine you, running from the back door and into the front room with a bundle of grapes. He hears the distant whispers of Fujiwara’s protests as he follows slowly.

Kita walks to the once-veranda, experimentally standing on the elevated foundation. The charred wood creaks beneath him, but feels sturdy enough to hold. He carefully ambles along the collapsed room, scanning the damage. He manages to cross the house and reach the back exit, and he pauses at the sight.

The ground outside is similarly littered with earthy debris, patchy with occasional new grasses and saplings. Fujiwara’s garden is gone, no more grape trellises or rows of starches. But there is a small square, less than a tsubo, dug into the dirt. Kita knows what this sort of sunken patch means, has seen them in some of the neighbors’ backyards growing up, flooded and filled with lines of grassy crop. He steps carefully from the foundation of the house and curiously stands over the square, imagining the rice that would be planted at the end of the month.

He hears footsteps from near the house and turns to see Mayumi-san, the one who drove Kita and granny out of the valley during the fire. She looks healthy despite being in her seventies, carrying a shovel and a hoe as she makes her way over.

“Ah, Shin-chan,” she greets him. “S’been a while, good to see ya again. What’re ya doin’ out here?”

He bows slightly as he greets her and explains that he was exploring the neighborhood, since he only just returned. He asks about the rice garden.

“I was testin’ to see how it’d grow, since the ash can help sometimes,” she explains. “I came back early after the fire, n’Fujiwara said I could use his yard since he’s probably stayin’ in the city with his daughter.”

An excitement sparks in Kita’s chest, like something clicked into place. He’s not sure what it is exactly, but he presses her. “How’d it do?”

Mayumi smiles, one that looks devilish and would be frightening if he wasn’t accustomed to seeing it. “Shit’s the best yield I’ve ever had. M’gonna try to dig a few more plots, maybe sell ‘em at the city markets.”

This is his way, he realizes. He sees the shovel in her right hand and hoe in the left and speaks before he can register the words. “Y’want any help?”

The rest of April is spent preparing the land with Mayumi and pouring over books on agriculture. He soaks in his elder’s expertise on the subject, in the abstract and the field. When the end of the month rolls around and the two of them begin sowing seeds, Kita thinks that for the first time since your absence that he feels whole. He is here in the valley, between your two homes, dedicating himself to the land that you led him through as a child. He thinks he can feel your presence while working, your hands misting over his, transplanting seedlings with him. The rains that come in are well timed, bringing rushing water down the mountain to flood the few squares of crops.

The days pass with granny, some quick and others slow. She does well in the village, with other people her age, though the company is sparse. Kita can sense that it’s hard for her sometimes, but like himself she is malleable to her environment, can make do as long as she has her routines. Her lungs aren’t as strong as they used to be, but she enjoys her walks and can maintain the chores—the ones Kita lets her.

When September comes in, Kita and Mayumi spend one sunny day harvesting. Kita wields his scythe carefully, the movement unpracticed. He grasps the dry stalks and runs the blade across the taut stems, bundling them on the ground to be collected. They gather the clumps and carry them to the house next to Mayumi’s—another neighbor who hasn’t returned since evacuation.

Mayumi prepares a sheet across the main room for them to work on. Then they thresh the harvest, grabbing the bundles and smacking them against the floor, pelts of rice springing off the stems. Kita is reminded of water, of rain splashing against the surface of the river. When all the stalks have been emptied, they spread the seeds of gold with their hands, like smoothing the creases of a futon. The day’s work is over, now waiting for the crop to dry. They exit, leaving a few of the screens open to let new waves of dry air flow through.

Kita finds these processes fulfilling, like his own daily routine. It’s another series of tasks that can be learned and done well. The result is his own sustenance, something he can live off of and share with others. It tastes better, he thinks, once he’s experienced the entire journey.

He tells his old teammates that he’ll be in Osaka next month for the markets. They only have a few dozen bags to sell, but he wants to get his friends’ opinions.

The markets are energetic and amiable. Kita shares with curious shoppers the story of the valley, how the burned houses and their backyards left ash that the rice took to. People find the narrative compelling, and they buy the rice despite the hefty price tag. Other vendors are interested, some make purchases to try in their food. Kita enjoys the atmosphere, the way these people and their businesses are connected. He and Mayumi manage to sell all the rice they brought. It’s hardly a profit, but it’s promising.

The next day Kita is in the Miya’s home with the additional company of Suna and Gin. They talk about life, preparation for nationals, what they’re thinking of doing when school ends. Atsumu is going pro, taking volleyball as far as he can. Osamu is ending it here, contemplating career options. He says he’s looking for restaurant jobs; he wants to be a chef.

“Yer gonna be a farmer, huh?” Atsumu asks, laying back on the couch. “It suits ya, that simple life.”

Kita nods. “Knew I needed to take care of granny, that I was gonna be in the valley anyways. One of the neighbors was growing some an’ I asked to help—wanted to see what it was like. S’gonna take time, but we’re gonna try to get the land from the neighbors, see if we can apply for subsidies ‘cause of the fire. Then we’ll try t’upscale. The market yesterday was good.”

Gin sighs, “Ever the considerate and diligent Shin-chan.”

“The rice is good,” Osamu interjects. “It’d be good for onigiri.”

It is, it turns out. After three years, Osamu decides to leave the restaurant he started working for out of highschool and open his own onigiri store. Kita is their main rice supplier, and a customer who never has to pay. They have classic flavors in the beginning: tuna mayo, pickled plum, ikura. When Kita comes with his next delivery, Osamu sits him in the dining room and has him try new options. The former captain takes his job as taste-tester seriously, his diligence appreciated by the former setter. They decide that the shrimp and beef flavors are ready to be sold, but the chicken needs reworking.

Kita gets into his truck that evening and drives home. The sun sets by the time he enters the valley, winding through roads in the black darkness. When he arrives at granny’s and exits the car, he sees that the sky is beautifully clear. The Milky Way spreads itself over the northern mountains, where life is still recovering, slowly but surely. He takes in the view for a few minutes, enjoying the quiet noise of the night—soft rushing water from the river, chirping insects, occasional wind.

He notices the blinking lights that cross the expanse of stars: planes and satellites. He sighs, remembering a time when he could sit on the top of the mountain and witness an unobscured view of the sky, taking up the entirety of his visual landscape.

Suddenly there is a shooting star, the most intense he’s ever seen. It’s a bright flash of light, he thinks for a moment white and orange and pink, that darts from the east and disappears as it curves west. Its trajectory gives the illusion that if it touched the ground, it would land on your mountain, that special enchanted forest.

After a few more minutes of watching, of relishing the awe, he makes his way inside. Granny is asleep, so he heads straight to bed.

When he wakes the next morning, for the first time in years—since that fire crawled along an entire mountain and you left to put an end to it—he feels the prickly sensation that he’s being watched.

Life doesn’t change with you watching him. Life didn’t change when you stopped. It’s something he knew, something you knew. He carries onwards, his routine of life, one that he does well and does everyday. He and Mayumi expand the fields again, creeping their business along the length of the river. Kita slowly takes on more farm responsibility, knowing enough to work independently when Mayumi needs to rest with increasing frequency. Granny is similar—she likes to help sometimes, with the easier work, but her lungs still struggle, never fully recovered.

It’s a beautiful morning, with cool air entering the house and light diffusing through the shoji. He can hear the birds and the rustling of leaves outside when he wakes, blinking away the lingering visions of orange and red from his dreamscape. He opens the screen towards the river while he puts away his futon and prepares for the day.

Granny isn’t in the main room as per usual. Kita pays it no mind, assuming she’ll be in soon. He makes breakfast and waits for her. She doesn’t come in on time. Kita stands to search, thinking she may have missed the time.

He enters her room and sees she’s still sleeping. He crouches over her to gently rock her awake, but there is no response. At that moment he realizes she is not breathing, not making a sound. He freezes, feels his heart plummet. He carefully lifts her hand from under the blankets—still warm—and checks to see if there’s a pulse. It’s quiet, flat.

He moves slowly, processing, sitting back on his heels next to her. His throat is tight and his chest—it’s hard to breathe. He shakily inhales through his nose and holds her hand in both of his. There’s a stinging behind his eyes and suddenly he is crying, weeping openly as he holds onto her. Death is the logical consequence of living, one of the only certainties of life; knowing this does not make Kita’s loss any less painful. While the hurt sits heavily in his chest, there is a growing spark of gratitude for her, that they were able to spend the beginning of his life and the end of her’s together.

Granny’s passing brings her closer to Kita, in a way. He feels that there are now two pairs of eyes on him, watching over him. When he looks in the mirror and sees his grey hair, granny’s hair, he thinks that he will always be a piece of her living on, that it’s his duty to live earnestly for her. He makes a shrine for her in one of the rooms of the house, placing her urn in the center. It is a beautiful grey clay, narrow and unglazed. A black thread ties the lid to the body.

She becomes another part of his routine, sitting before her remains and her images with his hands clasped and eyes closed.

Life goes on.

A month later he is in the field, tending to his crop. It’s late in the day, when the sun is near setting. The pink of the sky reflects onto the flooded beds, interrupted by sprigs of green. He inhales, appreciating the scenery, before exhaling and continuing his work. When he looks up a moment later, he is frozen by the sight.

There’s a wolf, large and grey, like the first one he saw as a child in the pine forest. He is not afraid, but in awe. A wolf returning means there’s prey: rabbits and deer. It means the forest is recovering, that creatures are finding their way back. He takes in the strong figure of the predator in front of him, sturdy and confident. A movement flashes in his peripheral, three pups catching up. Shin notices that one is nearly white, standing out from the others. He thinks of himself in Osaka, with his relatives.

When the pups catch up, the mother turns away and carries on.

Kita finishes his work before the sun fully sets. A light rain begins, clouds absorbing the vivid hues of sunfall, and he hurries to collect his tools before crossing the bridge home. The drizzling turns into solid pelting by the time he makes it to the empty house. He turns back briefly, squinting through the water collecting in his eyelashes, to see how long the downpour will last.

There’s a figure, at the other side, and his eyes widen in shock. He drops his tools and takes a few hurried steps closer, searching for confirmation.

Through the rain he can see you, standing at the other bank. You are smiling, he can tell, with your shoulders pulled upwards as if embarrassed. He thinks he is dreaming, that this is impossible. You, in flesh and bones, standing in front of the remnants of Fujiwara’s once home. He does not realize that he is smiling back, eyes crinkling and collecting water—his own tears as they spill—and grin spanning impossibly wide. His chest feels like it’s lifting, floating him in the air, to you on the other side.

Suddenly you are running forwards, not towards the bridge, but down the bank, to cross the water. Kita’s face flashes with concern and he starts down his own side, slipping through the mud. By the time he reaches the shore you have swum halfway across, long confident strokes despite the speed of the current. Kita marches forward, water touching his waist when he finally reaches you. He grabs your outstretched hand and tugs you into him, engulfing you in his chest and arms. You are as cold as the water surrounding him, but his body explodes with warmth at the contact, at finally being with you.

His heart races as he clutches you close, in an iron grip that refuses to relent. He thinks he hears you laugh against him, and he chokes out some strangled mixture of a laugh and sob. The water makes it hard for him to stand steady, so he brings one arm beneath you to lift you from the sediment and carry you to the bank. There he sets you down and grabs your waist firmly, staring at you with disbelief. You are smiling with all the glee in the world, eyes nearly closed by the force of it.

“I made it, Shin-chan.”

He doesn’t know what that means, but he thinks of the shooting star and the wolf, the rice fields filling easily without additional irrigation.

You lean forwards and wrap your arms over his shoulders, clutching him close. His arms come around your waist and he thinks he can recognize his feelings: relief and homecoming. There is a fullness, one that is close to painful, a pain he had been living with for years in your absence. He pulls you up the bank, to bring you into the house. He leaves his tools out, to be dealt with tomorrow, and goes straight for the genkan.

You try to protest when he passes the spigot, “Shin, the mud—”

But he doesn’t care, kicking off his boots to be cleaned later. The mixture of river water and mud splatter on the tile of the genkan, leaving brown puddles and smears. Kita removes his socks and drops them behind him, letting his clean feet be the barrier between himself and the floor. He carries you to the bathroom, to deal with the mess together.

At night you are in his room, watching him set up the futon. He looks at you to ask, “D’ya need one?”

You shake your head, smiling. “Let’s share.”

His heart pounds loudly in his ears. He nods quickly and pushes the blanket aside for the two of you. He clutches you close under the soft comforter, your head slotting snugly in the space of his neck. It sends a shiver down his spine, the chilliness, but it coats him in warmth. He can feel his heart still racing, never fully calmed since seeing you. He feels those questions and thoughts bubbling up, words he always found unnecessary to say. Something about this moment lets him release them, lets him be curious about you.

“Didn’t know if I’d ever see ya again,” he says quietly, into your hair.

You nestle your head further into his neck. He can feel your lips against his throat as you speak. “It took a lot from me, the fire. Always need time to recover.”

His hand comes up to cradle your head, smoothing through your hair. The image of the rainstorm flashes before him, the way the clouds swarmed from a previously blue sky to pour everything it had—everything you had—to put out the fire. He remembers the awe he felt, the sublimity of the view from a car fleeing the scene.

He doesn’t dream that night, his mind like an empty gulley, letting the soothing rainwater rush through him.

He cleans up after himself in the morning, retrieving his tools and mopping the genkan. It takes a while, though, interrupting his work several times to check that you are still in his room. You haven’t risen by the time he finishes making breakfast. A panic sits in his chest as he enters to wake you. You are still asleep, and he relaxes when he sees the steady rise and fall of your chest beneath the covers.

He sits on his knees beside you and gives your body a gentle rock. Your eyes peel open after a moment of stirring, and you are already smiling. Kita thinks it brightens the room more than the sun streaming in, that life is breathed into him from you.

You notice the granny’s shrine at breakfast. After assisting with cleanup, you ask if the small urn is all the ashes he has of her. He shakes his head and shows you the drawer in the display, where a box lays with the majority of her cremated remains.

“I wasn’ sure where t’put her,” he tells you.

You have an idea.

Only a few minutes later the two of you are exiting through the genkan, dressed for a day in the woods. Kita has a backpack on, the box from the shrine tucked safely inside. He lets you take the lead, turning left down the path and towards the western mountain. He is reminded of his sixth birthday, running to the end of the dirt road for the first time, panting to keep up with you. This time you are calmly walking hand in hand, in no hurry. Kita squeezes yours tightly, a necessary action to express the feeling in his heart.

You smile at him, and bring his hand to your mouth, kissing the back of it. Kita inhales in surprise and you watch his ears turn red, giggling at the sight.

When you two reach the end of the road, the rock face is still standing sturdy. He can see burned trees standing at the base, your mountain not untouched by the disaster. However, like the other forests, it is recovering, hope sprouting in the form of ferns and saplings. He sees a rabbit scurry away and a soft smile crosses his face.

You head first down the bank and into the water as usual, him following with his hand in yours. The cool water creeps up, only up to his knees now that he is grown. The water is easier to navigate in his adult body, and he effortlessly steps up the rocks to the forest floor, ones he used to scramble over on his hands and feet. The ground crunches beneath him. There is a patchy layer of pine needles—short ones—spreading along. The ground is not fluffy from decades of accumulation, but it’s a start. Small saplings bring bursts of fresh green, prickly when he brushes against them. The ferns hide beneath them, avoiding the scorching sun.

History repeats itself as you pull him forwards, along the river and through the early rebirth of the enchanted pine forest. The fallen tree that once served as a bridge is miraculously intact, though the top is scorched and he feels unsteady walking to the other side.

Wandering through the forest is another type of home. He hadn’t taken it upon himself to explore since returning, not wanting to disrupt the delicate healing of the ecosystem. He trusts you, though, and the path you’ll lead him to experience the land without damaging it further.

He notices that you are taking him to a section that he hasn’t been often, not a regular spot during your times together as kids. But it makes sense when you arrive at the small clearing and he sees the massive pine from his memory. It is thick with twisting branches, sturdy. Some of them are blackened from the fire, but others are coated in fresh needles, long and green, waving gently in the wind. He is surprised he hasn’t seen this miracle before, from the house. Maybe the distance obscured the view.

Kita walks slowly to the base of the tree and looks up towards its canopy. He can see the contrast of the charred and ashy sections of trunk against the rich brown of its healthy, resilient branches. The green shines brightly against the black and grey, proud of its revival.

He shrugs his backpack from his shoulders, understanding that this is where granny should be. He lowers to his knees before he unzips the bag and carefully removes the box. It’s a light wood, with tan streaks running along the grain. Pine, he thinks to himself in disbelief.

He slowly unlatches the box and sets it on the bed of brown needles near the trunk. There’s a plastic bag inside, tied with a simple overhand knot. He undoes it gently, slowly unfurling it to roll open and over the edge of the box. It’s the first time he’s looking at her remains, he realizes, and he notices that they are grey, grey ash with clumps of small black coals.

You watch as he moves slowly, cupping soft remains in his calloused hands.

“It’s like your hair,” you say.

He cries, letting out soft, ragged breaths between quick inhales. His weeping lasts the entirety of the time it takes him to spread the ashes at the base of the tree, where it meets the ground. When he finishes you crouch behind him and wrap your arms around his torso. He continues to cry. You feel it, his chest heaving with grief and mourn, love and gratitude. He brings his palms to his eyes to wipe the tears, but they continue to fall, splatter the earth beneath him with feeling.

You listen quietly as his sobs fill the space between rustling leaves and distant cooing birds. Eventually you take one hand from his torso to rub his back slowly, soothingly.

His noises eventually lull, quieting to the occasional sniffle. He gently pushes the bag into the pine box and then slowly closes the lid and does the clasp. He returns it to the backpack with careful, practiced motions. Your arms release him when you sense he wants to stand. He turns around to face you, you and the valley below.

He watches you closely, runs his eyes over your face, eyes and nose and lips. He wants to memorize your soft smile, the way it warms him like the sun.

You bring your hands to his cheeks, their coolness refreshing after crying so heavily. He leans into your touch and closes his eyes, soaking in the contradicting ways you make him feel—this tug between heat and cold. He feels you press a kiss on his temple, then the other. They’re smeared with the grey ash and black coals, transferring the dust onto your lips. He sighs, in peace, and brings his hands to cover yours.

When he opens his eyes once more, he looks behind you through the space between the trees, to the valley below him, spanning wide. He is reminded of the thousands of years it took these mountains to form, the thousands of years it took for the forest to grow on top of it. He knows that the fire he witnessed was not the first to rage across the land, and it certainly won’t be the last. He takes in the growth and change that has developed in the past few years, sparkles of hope in a collapse of despair. He recognizes that the destruction is an opportunity for something new, for him to be part of building the next beautiful forest that will rise.

He has lived for what feels like forever, and yet an entire life lays ahead of him. A life with the forest and the mountains and the river. A life with granny’s spirit watching over him, her hair and remains guiding him forwards. A life of working the land and growing something for himself, for others.

A life of unnecessary questions, ones he struggles to ask. A life of inexplicable feelings, ones he’s learning to let in.

A life with you. Here.

i know i said minor character death and then killed granny,, she's a minor character in haikyuu!! but she is a main character in my heart

anyways here's the afterword

#[❀] — fics #s.haikyuu #c.kita #can i just say i really love the opening? it gives such a poignant fairytale vibe - esp w the hint of granny lore like omg .#ik we talked a bit abt kita but its so funny to me how the parts u like to him start young. like yes thats so accurate but i ugly laughed #i adore the relationship between kita and granny actually like it feels so authentic on both parts #LAMOO his urge to clean and the reader's dirtiness is also so real. adore how the reader is portrayed as a child here #help why r we eating grapes from the ground (dirt included) and why does our supposed grandpa not say shit #the fact that kita knows what we r... doesnt say a thing tho... pookie omg #actually adore the way u've portrayed nature spirit. like i dont think i can emphasize this enough because there's a sort of authenticity #there's a childish aspect to the reader - beyond just being a child; like human but different in all the ways i'd expect a nature spirit to #be. wild and untamed and entirely free in how they're 'dirty'? in a sense? uncaring about cleanliness which just makes sense to Me. idk its #such a small detail but i fixated on that sm LMFAOAO its terrible #'wonders how someone from the city would run without shoes through mud' your attention to detail KILLS ME #the river being alive... oaufshdjf i love that detail so much #'granny gave him some books. you're giving the forest' AFDHSLKAJFDSGDFADK I LOVE ME #omg i love how the reader just popped out of the pipes. like bro . HAHAHFSim sorry how happy it made kita tho.... :>#contrast between first impressions and ingrained familiarity was such a lovely way to describe things btw #'these questions bring a pain to his chest. sometimes he calls granny and it gets better; sometimes it gets worse' is such #idk its just. the homesickness is so poignant here. loved it sm #“even with your skin always cold; his body will forever warm at your touch” what if i cried #?? what the fuck #did reader die #im #[redacted]#are u going to pay for my therapy #what the fuck #kita learning from reader and becoming the omnipotent eyes im ghalsdjfk im shaking literally #granny's death and her becoming another pair of eyes :(((((#HASLKDFJSD WE LIVED

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eddiesghxst · 1 year ago

Text

OH. MY. GOD.

MY SLOW READING ASS FINALLY FINISHED AND OMG WHAT A FUCKING RIDE. I HAVE SO MUCH TO SAY AND IM SORRY IN ADVANCE IF ITS ANNOYINGLY LONG BUT THIS WAS SO GOOD

OK HERE WE GO

BABY PINK GWAGON SHES MEEEEE UGH SHES SO GIRLPOP PUSSY SLAYYYY

reader being more shy on eddie’s terf, and eddie being nervy, they’re so cute pls

he found readers favorite food and PRACTICED MAKING IT, im just imagining vi taste testing for him and i’m🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹 UGH OMG THATS SO CUTE, tugging on my heart strings tj and we’ve only just begun

“Eddie knew if it was this easy to get you to make that sweet sound in the kitchen, he could just as easily get them out of you in the bedroom as well.“ BRO ?!?!?! YALL HEAR SHM PURRIN ??!?!?!!/):$;!;

“As he walked back, he stood behind you, and as he reached over you, you could feel his chest brush up against your back. He let a ringed hand fall on your shoulder for balance as he leaned over to pour you a glass from behind.” GASPPPP, SIRRR… 👀 u wanna fuk me don’t u🤭

“Oh, so you’re a Gemini” SIR WHO TAUGHT U THIS? somebody cooked here

i need eddie to quit playing and just slap the dick on the table like pls, “you will know when i am teasing, angel.” LIKE WHY R U TALKING TO ME LIKE THIS ?!

LMAOOO NOT READER SAYING HES OLD AND THINKS PUNCTUATION IS NECESSARY TJ PLS IM CRYING I HAD TO PAUSE FOR A FAT MINUTE BC I WAS LAUGHING

READER ANSWERING THE FACETIME NAKED HELLO… violet gurl, i love u but we have an itinerary, pls go back to bed.

idk if i trust roger bc why did he ask for the address “to approve everything” like what is there to approve ??😭 ur not sending an amazon order to their house roger, pls be fr🙄

my guy eddie is FOLDING

reader: being cute and wholesome in her little barbie pink bikini

eddie: and what if i moaned? what then?

LMAOO gareth accidentally spilling the beans on who vi’s mom is, he’s so real

AH ITS HAPPENING THERE ABT TO FUCK OMG OMG

“Pretty and smart.” r u insane ? i’ll literally get u pregnant rn stop playing w me. i’ll defy all laws of science fr.

GASPPP A PIERCED DIK ?!?!? R U TRYING TO KILL ME ??!OH MY FUCK NO HES INSANE GET THIS MAN OUT OF MY FACE BEFORE I DO THE UNSPEAKABLE

“I knew you would have such a pretty little pussy. Open up for me, baby. Let me see.” will i live to read the rest of this fic ? bc im currently on life support. miss tj we need to have a talk fr bc this is insanity, im literally not normal abt this whatsoever

SIX YEARS ???! oh yeah he finna go crazy rn🤭

BRO EDDIE IS FUCKING THIS SHIT UUUPPPP, reader gurl r u gonna be able to walk after this bc TUH🫣 i’m only reading and i feel bed ridden

FUCK YEAHHHH THE FEELINGS R BEING CONFESSED KGDJLJVK THEYRE SO PRECIOUS IM SOBBING

not the facebook moms hating, listen christie if ur jealous just say that✋no need to slut shame girlie

aw poppy🥺 fuck readers ex fr, we ride at dawn💯

SAY IT EDDIE, SAY YOU LOVE HER OMG

HE DID NAWT TIE HER PANTIES TO HIS GUITAR R U KIDDIBG ME THATS SO FUCKING HOT IM LITERALLY IN SHAMBLES THIS ENTIRE SHOW SCENE IS SO SJDHEIEU WHEN SHE LICKED HIS ABS ??!?! EDDUE SPITTING INTO HER MOUTH AND THE BIG SCREENS CATCHIBG IT PLS IM LOSING MY MIND I CANT DO THIS

LMAOOO not the old man achey back, he’s so cute i wanna fuck him, give him to me now.

NO CONDOM FUCK YEAH LETS GO KNOCK ME UP FR💯💯💯

EATING THE CUM OUT OF READERS PU— oh he’s a whore.

“It had been on the tip of your tongue, but you suppressed those feelings because you knew in your heart things would have to end eventually, and you had to protect yourself.” i’m just gonna ignore that bc ik they’re going to get married, give vi a sibling, and live happily ever after😀 right? RIGHT ?!?!

AYEE BUTT STUFF LETS GOO !!!

TJ ??!? THIS PLANE SCENE IS SO FILTHY IM LITERALLY LOOKING OVER MY SHOULDER LIKE👀 NOBODY DONT LOOK AT MY PHONE FR SHITS GETTING CRAZY

not them christening the entire house🤭 my boy eddie said ‘fuck the back pain i gotta put in work for my girl’ AND DID !!

“Fuck baby, you want my babies, you want me to get you all round and pregnant. You want my cum that bad.” He whispered. yes.🧎‍♀️

NO NO NO NO GET ON THE YATCH PLS IM GONNA CRY

TJ OH MY GOD HOW COULD YOU END IT LIKE THAT ?!!?! THE SELF DESTRUCTION IS SO EVIDENT I COULD SCREAM IM LITERALLY SO UPSET

everything about this was so fucking perfect, the build up the relationship between reader and vi and then reader and eddie, it was a gd rollercoaster and i want to get on it again. even tho it hurt like a bitch and im mad at you.

WILDFLOWER| Rockstar!Eddie Munson x Pop!Princess reader

Summary: Eddie has been out of the limelight for years; raising his daughter, Violet Rose, has been his entire world. He will do anything and everything for his little girl, so when the opportunity to see her favourite pop star when she comes to town, he can’t resist. However, it might not all be just for his daughter…

WC 37.2k

AN: I originally submitted this as an ask to @ceriseheaven and she added to the idea that it’s a fake dating scenario so I have to give her credit for it 🤗 I didn’t think it would ever develop into this but I spent so much time in it so thank you to whoever takes the time to read it 🫡🙏🏻😊

CW: NSFW 18+ ONLY MDNI. Modern day AU, non vecna/non upside down, single!dad/rockstar!Eddie, age gap romance, fake dating, fem Afab reader she/her pronouns, Angst, Fluff, SMUT and a lot of it, read with caution. Soft Dom Eddie x Sub reader, cheating(readers past), self-doubt, anxiety, language, parental abandonment, alcohol consumption, mentions of drug consumption, bad past relationships, no use of y/n, Eddie refers to the reader with pet names. I tried really hard to be conscious about not having any physical descriptions of the reader other than that they are girly and AFAB. The nameless freak's name is Felix bc he deserves a name, damn it!

🎸𖤐𝄞💿𓆩🎧𓆪 🎸𖤐𝄞💿

Eddie woke up to the sweetest voice he’d ever heard blasting throughout the surround sound speakers of his house for what felt like the 100th day in a row. He had walked down the grand staircase of his Hollywood Hills mansion to see his sweet baby girl still in her pyjamas. Her usually perfect light chocolate curls now looked like a rat nest from her sleep as she jumped, danced, and sang along to her favourite Pop Star.

As Eddie suspected, you were gracing his TV screen as he turned the corner into the family room. He can’t help but stare as you are in a Barbie pink bathing suit, sitting in a pink polka dot pool floaty, singing along to the song in your latest music video.

Eddie’s first introduction to you was when his daughter asked him to help her put your poster on her bedroom wall when she was 9. Eddie’s throat got tight and dry at the sight of you, posing in a baby blue cardigan and a white tank top underneath paired with a blue miniskirt and knee-high socks; as his eyes skim over the poster, he sees your name scrawled on the bottom right corner like you had “signed” it.

“Who is this, cupcake?” Eddie cleared his throat. “She sings Angel, Duh!” telling him like he was the last person on the earth to find out who you are. He looks at his daughter, keeping his eyes off that little outfit, especially because it is showing off the bellybutton ring you wore, and it’s doing things to his body that he hasn’t felt in years. “That's who I’m forced to listen to 50 times a day?!” He asks eyes bug out of his skull. His daughter would not stop listening to the bubblegum pop song for the past 2 weeks. The first time they had heard it, he was driving her to school. She begged him to download your album, so he asked his assistant to download all your music that was out. Unfortunately for him, at that point, you’d only had out your one song, so he was stuck listening to it on repeat.

“Sweetheart, I know you’re having a good time, but please, can we turn it down.” Eddie was privy to loud music, especially his own. His band Corroded Coffin had been in the industry for almost 2 decades at this point, but now, being 39 and having taken a backseat to raise his 11-year-old, his ears haven’t been so forgiving. “Daddy!” she turned to him with the biggest smile, and his heart melted. She would be a teen soon, and he knew moments like these would be slim to none. Her tiny feet moved her to a running jump into Eddie's arms. Eddie could still lift her up, but she was getting so tall that he couldn’t hold her like this much longer. “Daddy! She is coming here next week can I PLEASE go to the concert? Pretty pretty, please! I’ll do all my chores and my homework, and you won't have to give me my allowance for it pleasepleasepleasepleas-” she begged.

“Alright, Cupcake, first of all, you’re already supposed to do these things regardless. Second, you don’t have to bargain. Was going to surprise you for your birthday!” Eddie smiled. “Oh, thank you, Daddy! thankyouthankyouthankyou!” She latched her arms tightly around his neck, giving him the tightest hug she could. Eddie didn’t disclose the backstage passes he got from his label. He wanted to do everything and anything to make his baby girl happy. He made that promise to her the day she was born.

The day Violet Rose came into the world, his ex told the Doctor to not give her the baby. She didn’t even look at her; she said, “Give it to Eddie.” The word “it” had a sour note that stuck in his memory, even until today. When the Doctor handed her to him, he looked at his cherub-faced angel and fell instantly in love. He would never admit it, but he did cry the first time he held her. She had his eyes and hair, but her nose, skin and lips were all her mother. Eddie was the type of father who would do anything and everything for his kid. He was granted full custody of his daughter and named her Violet Rose. Eddie was never married to his ex-Sarafina… technically. They were drunk and high one night, partying in Vegas when he was young and dumb. Corroded Coffin was in their heyday. He was truly living the rockstar lifestyle. The next week, they both finally sobered up and realized what a terrible mistake they had made and got the marriage annulled.

Months later Sarafina found out she was pregnant. She never wanted to have a baby, and by the time she realized she was pregnant, she was too far into term that she couldn’t do anything about it. She yelled and fought with Eddie, accusing him of "doing this to her” and “that he was the one who ruined her body.” She was a supermodel turned actress; she was career-driven but selfish. She told Eddie she would never be a mother, and either Eddie could take the baby or she would put the baby up for adoption. Eddie, without hesitation, said he would be there to take care of the baby, he would do everything, raise them, and love them no matter what. Even though he was alone and had no idea what parenting entailed, he would be there for his child.

Sarafina begged Eddie to keep the pregnancy hush hush because it would make her “look bad” in the tabloids that she was giving up her baby, so Eddie agreed. He never disclosed to Violet Rose who her mother was. Even to this day, they had no contact. He couldn’t and wouldn’t do that to his Cupcake. He never wanted to have her see the woman who berthed her everywhere in the media, reminding her she wasn’t wanted… just like his own parents did to him. Eddie swore he wouldn’t ever have his baby feel the way he still does; he would make sure of it.

🎸𖤐𝄞💿𓆩🎧𓆪 🎸𖤐𝄞💿

As the warmer months rolled in, you had a really strong feeling that this would be your summer. You had just finished touring as an opening act with one of the most prominent girl groups from the U.K. this past New Year. You were still on the up and up, even though it’s been about two years since your first #1 hit single, Angel. You’d released your debut self-titled album six months after and recorded a few music videos that had been shown on MTV. This past tour broadened your fan base to help you go international. However, the tabloids were just not as interested in you as you hoped they would be by now. Even with your tour with one of the most prominent Pop groups at the moment, you still had a lot of competition. The pool was over-saturated, and your publicist needed a way for you to stand out of the crowd. Your publicist, Roger, suggested dating someone in the industry a few months after the tour hype had died down.

“But I won’t have time to date someone right now?” You huffed at the silly suggestion. Who would even want to date you? Sure, you got hit on, but no guys ever want to commit. Honestly, you haven’t been on a date in almost two and a half years. You had been so busy focusing on your career that your love life was on standby. You were in your twenties! Going on dates and having fun should have been on the agenda, but that had been set aside once you were signed to your label.

“We will make a deal with someone who also needs some media attention. It won’t be real. Sweetheart, relax. I’ll take care of everything.” Roger really was a good friend and employee. He was a few years older but had been in the industry forever. He has been with you from the start and would never steer you wrong. A publicity stunt meant that there weren’t actual feelings, no commitment; you could do that… Right? Roger explained to you that it would be a handful of public dates and parties, red carpets. No strings attached, no getting your heart broken again. That was months ago, and you soon forgot about the whole thing. You were too busy preparing for your solo North American tour.

🎸𖤐𝄞💿𓆩🎧𓆪 🎸𖤐𝄞💿

The tour has been amazing; you were getting to see places you’ve never been to, filling out larger venues than you had in the past. Your agent claimed that soon enough, you could sell out arenas. The fantasy of performing to huge crowds flooded your mind with flashbacks from the tour with the band. You were snapped back into reality when the stage manager asked if you were okay through the megaphone. You were currently at your final rehearsals for tonight's gig. This was your last show and your biggest. Your six-week tour was finally heading to a close. Tickets for tonight's show had sold out for the original venue within half an hour, so your team decided to move to a larger space; you couldn’t believe it when they told you you felt like you were dreaming.

After rehearsals, your hair and makeup team and stylist worked until you looked like the definition of a ‘Pop Princess,’ not that it took much to begin with. You were a natural beauty. Your skin glowed and was clear from any blemishes. Your teeth had been through whiting and straightened by braces. Your hair was always styled perfectly, and your outfits were styled by only the best. Tonight, you were dressed in your stage outfit, a plaid baby pink miniskirt and a cropped white tube top that said “Angel” across your breast in pink rhinestones. You’d worn this outfit in every colour about 50 times over by now, but you still felt cute every time you put it on.

Before the show, you always did a meet and greet. A lottery of random tickets gets selected, so no one pays extra to meet you. Talking to the people who support you the most was the best part of touring; you loved seeing your fans. As the line of young fans moves forward, your heart swells as you’re reminded why you’re putting in all this work. You were told a super fan was coming in with a special guest; they were to come in last. As you waited for the super fan to arrive, you checked yourself once over in the mirror until you heard the undeniably excited scream coming from a little kid. “Oh my god! It’s really her!” You whip your head around with a genuine smile. A small force hits your body as the little girl runs to you and grips your waist in the tightest hug.

“Hey sweetie, you here all by yourself?” you question concerned. Distracted by the cutie gripping you, you don’t see the man walk into the room behind her. “You accusing me of being a bad father, Angel?” The sultry voice was familiar, but you couldn’t place it. Your head snapped up, and your eyes locked. At that moment, Eddie knew he was done for. Sure, he has a slight crush on you, but now, seeing you in person? He sees hearts surrounding your head, and you’re moving in slow motion; he swore he was struck by Cupid's arrow.

“Oh no, never! I was just worried she had run off with her parents.” You look up, and your heart flutters into your stomach at the sight of the man standing before you. Eddie Munson in the flesh.

Your parents had been huge fans of his band; you knew pretty much all his music from listening to it growing up. He was a musical legend, and not to mention the hottest DILF out there. His hair was still long even after all this time, just a little shorter and more tame than when you saw him on album covers. His broad shoulders filed out his black satin button-up. He styled it by rolling up the sleeves, and was only buttoned to his mid-chest. He showed so much skin that you could see his tattoos. Even the tops of his hands were inked with the signature purple roses he proudly displayed for his daughter. He paired his shirt with black slacks, a black and silver belt, and some boots. As you examined his face, you noticed he had laugh lines around his eyes and probably around his mouth, but it was covered by his short beard. It was hard not to check him out; he looked so damn good.

“I’m just teasing Sweetheart.” You felt the heat of your blood rush to your cheeks at the tone of his voice. “Thank you for coming; they told me I had a special guest but didn’t say who.” You switched your attention back to his daughter; you wanted to make her feel special like all the other fans. “What's your name, Sweetheart?” You ask. “Violet Rose,” She says proudly. “That is such a beautiful name! Your Mommy and Daddy picked a good one.” You smiled at her, but her smile dropped after you spoke. “I don’t have a Mommy.” She shifted her gaze towards her purple light-up sneakers.

Your heart sank because you shouldn’t have mentioned the parents. You knew Eddie was single but didn’t realize her mom wasn’t in the picture. You looked to Eddie, and he gave you an apologetic gaze. “Oh, I’m sorry, sweetheart; I’m sure you and your Daddy are the perfect team though, huh? He must be a great Dad to bring you here; I’m sure he isn’t into this kind of music.” You teased, giving Eddie a wink. That seemed to brighten her mood. “Yea! We always sing your songs in the car together on the way to school!” she bragged. That made Eddie blush, and you let out a giggle. The thought of the older metalhead singing along to your music? Priceless. “Oh really? THE Eddie Munson singing along to me? I would pay to see that.” You laugh.

“You know my Daddy?” She looks at you, confused. “Sweetheart, remember how I told you I used to do what this lovely little lady does?” he reminds his daughter. Eddie hadn’t released any new music since his daughter was a toddler, so her confusion wasn’t surprising.

“Ohhhh, you should do a song together! My Daddy sings all the time, and he plays guitar! He can make reallllly good songs,” She praised. “Oh no, Cupcake, I’m sure the Princess of Pop here doesn’t want some old man like me helping her out.” he laughs nervously. “I wouldn’t say old.” You bit your lip.

“5 minutes to curtal call, all performers to the stage.” The announcement over the speaker screeched.

“Sorry, cutie, I have to go, but maybe I’ll see you after the show? You and your Dad can come to the dressing room after OK?” You smiled at them and blew a kiss, aiming it at Eddie before walking out the door. Eddie was speechless. Were you flirting with him? He was at least ten years older or older. You couldn’t possibly be?

Eddie surprisingly enjoyed himself; he knew every song because of Violet Rose, so he ended up singing along to most of the show. Eddie also enjoyed how your body moved on stage; all of your cute little choreographed dances were turning him on the way more than they should. He had to remember that he was currently with his kid, but his thoughts betrayed him. You were always the star of his fantasies when he was alone in bed. Seeing you in person, live on stage, being able to smell your sweet perfume that smelled like cinnamon and vanilla, clinging to his shirt when you gave him a hug at the meet and greet. His thoughts morphed into how after the show, he would take you into your dressing room and bend you over the vanity, flip up your skirt and fuck your brains out.

He snapped out of his daydreams when he heard a blood-curdling scream from his child. She was having so much fun. He loved seeing his Cupcake having the time of her life and could not stop talking about how you’re meeting them again after the show.

🎸𖤐𝄞💿𓆩🎧𓆪 🎸𖤐𝄞💿

A knock on the door came about 25 minutes after you got off stage, just enough time for you to quickly rinse off and change out of your sweaty stage clothes. “Hey, pretty girl! Hi handsome.” you open the door and greet Violet Rose, and Eddie. You usher them into the greenroom, and Violet asks you a million questions that you gladly answer.

“Vi, I think we should get going. We have more than over-welcomed our stay, and Angel here probably has a lot of people waiting on her.” Eddie checked his watch. A look of disappointment crossed your face. You haven’t even had much of a chance to talk to Eddie. Selfishly that’s why you invited them both back after the show. Your publicist said you should be dating; why not Eddie? He was charming and handsome. “Oh, I didn’t even realize the time, I do have an after-party I should attend, it is for me, after all… I would invite you, little miss, but it’s at a club, adults only.” You gave Eddie a sorry smile. “No, truly, you’ve done more than enough for Vi; we have taken more than enough of your time.” Eddie shook his head. “Ok, well, if you want to come, it’s—actually, here! Give me your phone.” You were never this bold, but you needed to do this for yourself, and what could it hurt? Eddie was hot, and you hadn’t gotten laid in so long.

“Uh, what?” He looked confused, “Trust me,” you gave him a flirtatious smile. He chuckled and handed you his phone. You texted yourself from his cellphone and saved your number in his contacts under Angel just because of what he called you earlier. “I’ll text you the address; feel free to come if you’re up to it; I’ll make sure you’re on the list.” You smile. “Oh, I’m always on the list, Baby.” He stepped closer to you. Eddie forgot where he was for a minute. The second the word baby slipped out of his mouth, he regretted it immediately. His daughter was right there; she had never seen him interact with a woman in any romantic capacity. He cleared his throat after realizing he had said a quick goodbye and dragged Violet Rose out.

Once Eddie pulled into the drive of his home, Violet Rose was already passed out in the car's back seat. He had carried her up to her room, gently placed her on the bed, picked out a pair of her pyjamas, gently woke her up and told her to get changed and into bed. He left hoping she would at least get out of her concert outfit, but he would remind the maid to wash her sheets in the morning just to be safe.

Eddie was so wound up from meeting you tonight he couldn’t go to sleep. He couldn’t go to the club because there was no one to look after Vi. He was so tempted but couldn’t leave her; she was too little. He looked through his phone and remembered you gave him your number. Maybe you were flirting with him? Back in his day, that was definitely a way to tell if a girl liked you. But you were what? At least 21, you could get into a club, and he was 39 and a Dad. He fought back and forth with himself until his phone dinged, grabbing his attention. The name Angel popped up, and he was confused at first, then remembered you had used his phone to get his number.

Angel: Too bad you couldn’t make it tonight, but I understand! Maybe we can meet up some other time?🥰 Angel: Just the two of us…

Eddie was shocked, you were forward and for sure flirting with him and he liked it. You were extremely nervous sending the text.

You were out at the club, tipsy, and your friends had convinced you to send the first text, then one of them grabbed your phone and sent the second one, just to be clear for good measure. While you waited for his reply that felt like a thousand years, you took another tequila shot. Why were you so nervous about his reply? This night was about you! You were supposed to be celebrating your highly successful tour, but the second your phone vibrated, you were unlocking it to see.

Eddie: Thank you so much for making Vi’s night so special, let me take you to dinner as a thank you? 😁

Oh my god, did he asked you out?

Angel: It was my pleasure, but I’ll never pass up the chance for free food😉 Eddie: I’ll call you tomorrow and we can work out the details, have fun and don’t do anything I would do😏

Eddie didn’t text you for the rest of the night, but it was already 1:45 a.m., and you were busy partying.

Eddie did not go to sleep right away after he sent that text. He was like a lovesick teenager while looking through your social media, your Instagram and TikTok. He couldn’t stop looking at the picture the three of you took at the meet and greet. You had looked so cute, the way your outfit clung to your body, showing off all the right places… It was ingrained in his brain. He allowed his mind to drift to dirty thoughts about you again. You were his favourite fantasy.

His hand traced his stomach down further until his fingers traced the tip of his cock. He had been so worked up all night he had to touch himself. His red tip aching to be enveloped by your sweet little cunt. He imagined how your voice would be begging him to fuck you while he stroked his cock; he thought about what you would look like bouncing up and down, swallowing him whole, how soft your boobs would be in his mouth, how you would scream for him. Oh yeah, baby, such a good girl. Taking me so well, you’re a dirty girl, wanting me to fill you. Do you like that? Taking all of it, letting me use you, beg for it, baby. He gripped his fist tighter around himself, aching for release. A loud primal groan left Eddie’s mouth as he came. He knew he was in big trouble. That was one of the hardest times he’d cum in a while. His undeniable crush on you was growing, and he wasn’t sure he could control it.

🎸𖤐𝄞💿𓆩🎧𓆪 🎸𖤐𝄞💿

The following day, you woke up with a nasty hangover and an early morning call from your publicity team. They asked you to meet with them at noon in the office. Worry filled you; what had you done last night? Were you messy? Did someone leak a video of you partying? Your fans were young and impressionable. You had to keep your image somewhat clean. As you showered, getting ready for the day, memories of meeting and texting Eddie flooded your mind. Oh my god, you’d hit on Eddie Munson, and he’d asked you out! That put a little bit more pep in your step.

As you enter the office, you don’t pay much attention to the people surrounding you as you stalk Roger’s office. Looking down at your phone as you open the solid oak door, you almost crash into someone built like a brick wall. Your short stature couldn’t see over their broad shoulders blocking the entrance. You let out a little yelp as you almost spilled the coffee to help your hangover all over your baby blue silk power suit.

“Shit,” you whisper under your breath. The person whips their head around at the sudden admission. You’re still looking at your outfit to see if you’d spill anything on yourself when you hear him.“Fancy meeting you here, Angel.” Your head shoots up; Eddie is the brick wall blocking your way. You try and come up with something witty, but you’re off your game this morning. Why would he be here? Did your texts leak? What is going on?.

“Hello lovely, have a seat. We will get right to it.” You hear Rogers's voice come from behind Eddie and his team. You take a seat at his desk with Eddie sitting beside you. “What's going on?” you ask no one in particular. “We came up with a plan for more publicity, Sweetheart.” Roger smiles. His nicknames never bothered you; he was kind and caring, never talking down to you, and you knew he always had your best interests at heart. “Oh?” You looked to Eddie because why would he be here as well? Roger starts talking, and your attention goes back to him. “You see, Corroded Coffin is coming back from hiatus! A new album will be released in a few months, and they’re going on tour.”

Oh wow! This was so exciting for them! You couldn’t wait to tell your parents the news. Maybe you could get tickets for them as an anniversary gift?

You turn your head back to Eddie with a smile. He’s not looking at you, but the desk held his gaze. There was a look in his eyes like he wasn't listening... like he was off in another world. Did he not like the idea? He asked you out only last night. Maybe he knew before you? Maybe that was why he asked you out?

"Since you and the band are signed to the same label, and Eddie is the band's frontman, we thought this could be a good match. Lord knows the band needs some good publicity since it’s been about 8 years since anything has been released.” Roger explained.

Oh, you see…this was all for show, he must have known before you did. That’s the only reason he asked you out... Your heart sank a little bit knowing now that it was all a part of the plan; but why wouldn’t he tell you? “What do you think darling?” Roger asked. “Well I mean, I guess why not?” What could it hurt? You got along, he was hot, and you knew you wanted no strings attached. No more hurt, not again. “Eddie, how about you?” Eddie snapped out of his trace at the sound of his name. “Uh yeah. Sure, whatever works.” He brushed it off. Eddie hardly looked at you for the rest of the meeting. “Great your people and my people will set up the contract and you can both sign it. Thanks for coming in, we will send it to you by 4:00pm. The both of you have a lovely afternoon.” Roger dismissed you.

Eddie did not pay attention during that entire meeting nor the time he spent signing the contract. He was too in his head about the situation. He was now obligated to date you. He didn’t care that it was all for show because, through his eyes, any time Eddie was to spend with you was precious.

After signing the contract, Eddie started thinking of dates to bring you on because he didn’t read the part where it said the dates would be scheduled and planned by your teams accordingly. They would be strategically coordinated so there would always be paparazzi. He didn’t pay attention to any of the contractual obligations, especially the fine print. He was excited he got to show you off as his girl.

🎸𖤐𝄞💿𓆩🎧𓆪 🎸𖤐𝄞💿

A few days after the meeting between your team and Eddie's, you received a call from none other than Eddie himself. He called you asking you to come over for dinner, which surprised you even though he said he would. You were nervous because you still had a growing crush on Eddie and wanted to look extra good for him. A million questions ran through your head while deciding on what to wear. Would his daughter be there? You needed to dress cute but casually; it was only at his house, after all… Maybe it was a get-to-know-you-better kind of thing? To get your stories straight? How you had met, how you had “fallen in love,” that sort of thing?

You did your signature soft girl makeup and pulled your hair into a half-up, half-down look to keep your hair out of your eyes. You dressed in your high-waisted light wash Levi jeans that made your ass look out of this world and paired it with a cropped white baby tee and a sage green cropped knit cardigan. You did another spritz for your favourite perfume for good measure. You glanced at yourself one more time in the mirror. Casual, simple, not too much, right? You decided if you didn’t leave right now, you never would.

Eddie opened the door to his mansion seconds after the bell rang. He was already alerted by the gate buzzer, so he had time to get to the door. You nervously wait for him to open up the 10ft door that looks like it could swallow you whole. “Hi Princes-Is that seriously your car?” He chuckled. You turn your head to look behind you to see your baby pink G wagon sitting in the driveway. You shrug your shoulders as your cheeks heat and blush at his teasing. “It was a gift from the label for hitting platinum on my first album.” You shrugged. This version of you seemed to be a lot more shy than the first time Eddie met you.

Eddie thought you were adorable, and you thought he looked like a Greek god standing there in the doorway. “Can I come in?” You asked, reaching to nervously twirl the bottom of your hair with both hands. “Shit, sorry, where are my manners? It’s been a long time since I’ve done this.” He scolded himself after it came out of his mouth. Real fucking smooth, Munson. You giggled at his omission and stepped into his home. You looked around, seeing that it was exactly as you would picture it. The walls were painted dark, warm charcoal accented with gold features, platinum and gold records and Grammy awards mounted to the walls. You were memorized by the things that were distinctly Eddie, but it could use a feminine touch, in your opinion. How did a girly girl like Violet Rose grow up in a place like this?

He led you to the kitchen as he continued the home tour. The kitchen was grand and lush with dark emerald green cabinets, the same charcoal grey walls and brassy gold appliances and hardware. The smell that wafted through your nose as Eddie led you into the room was the best thing you’d smelt in a while. Sure, you can cook for yourself, but who has the time? As you take in the delicious smell, you hum automatically. “It smells so good! What are you making?” You ask, sitting on the brass bar stool. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” He gave you a toothy smile and a wink. That made your whole body flutter, heart, stomach…pussy. He was too charming for his own good. You were screwed and not in the way you wanted to be.

He automatically poured you a glass of white wine and said it would 'pair nicely' with whatever he was cooking for the two of you. “So where is Violet Rose?” You asked, taking a sip. “Sleepover with the Kardashians, they live just up the street.” He shrugged. You choke on the wine; he said it so casually, like they weren’t the most famous family in the world. This world was still very new to you. You hardly had three years under your belt, and he had decades on you. “Oh god! Are you okay?” he rushed to your aid, his large hand spaying over your back, circling it gently. “Yeah, just um, went down the wrong way.” You choked embarrasly as you caught your breath. Eddie squeezed your bicep and returned to the stove to serve the food. “Don’t choke on this, okay? The last thing I need is a headline that says Freak, Eddie Munson kills Beautiful Pop Princess. He placed it before you, and you laughed at his lame joke. Still a bit embarrassed, but that all went away when you saw what he put down in front of you. “Are you some sort of Houdini? Or did you know this was my favourite?” You raised a brow.

Oh, Eddie had known; he saw you post about it when he was stalking your Instagram a few nights prior. He was determined to get it right; he practiced making it a few times for Vi before your date. So much so that she got sick of it and begged him to make her boxed mac and cheese instead.

“A magician never tells his secrets.” He winked at you, sitting right beside you at the kitchen island. Having him this close to you made everything flutter again. You took your first bite, and your initial reaction was to moan at how good it tasted. Your eyes close as your head falls back, enjoying every bite. Eddies cock twitched the second you let out that moan. His breath hitched; he knew your moans would be sweet, but his imagination could not conjure up the sweetness that left your throat. Eddie knew if it was this easy to get you to make that sweet sound in the kitchen, he could just as easily get them out of you in the bedroom as well.

“Eddie this is sooooo good!” you compliment him.

He smiled shyly and thanked you. You sat in a comfortable silence as you enjoyed your homemade dinner. “I was surprised you asked me to your house.” You openly admitted, looking over at him.

“Really? He asked as he took a sip of wine. You watched his tattooed-clad hand grip the glass as he brought the honey-coloured liquid to his plump lips and watched his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed. “Um, yeah, I guess I was wondering why?” You shook your head out of your daze. “Can’t a man ask a pretty girl on a date?” He teased.

“So this is a date? You asked, confirming. “Why wouldn’t it be?” He asked. “What about the contract?” You asked, fully knowing all dates were to be set up by your two teams and were to be in public. “What about it?” He asked. “I guess I’m surprised you wanted to be alone with me, is all?” You shrugged. “Any man would be stupid to not want you alone, Angel.” His voice deepened.

Your breath hitched, and you took the last sip of your wine. Eddie got up to pour you another glass. As he walked back, he stood behind you, and as he reached over you, you could feel his chest brush up against your back. He let a ringed hand fall on your shoulder for balance as he leaned over to pour you a glass from behind. He smelled intoxicating. His cologne was obviously expensive, rich and all man.

“We should get to know one another better,” He said while subtly moving his stool closer to you. “Oh, ok, what did you want to know?” Your head was still spinning from his scent that lingered in the air around you. “Everything.” His voice was so sultry it hypnotized you. “You’re going to have to be more specific,” you giggle. That second glass of wine was quickly lifting your inhibitions.

“Ok, how about we start with why you’re agreeing to be with an old guy like me when you could have any guy in the world, Sweetheart.” He raised his brows to you. “I wouldn’t call you old.” You admit to him. “I’m turning 40 next year, baby... and you’re what? 21? I could be your father." he begrudgingly admitted.

You laugh again; what the hell was in this wine? “I’m 25, thank you very much, turning 26 next month.” You smiled. “Oh, so you’re a Gemini.” He was quick with his answer. “So I am… and to answer your question, I don’t have time for dating, and the last time I was in a relationship was so long ago. He didn’t respect me or my dreams and said I wasn’t good enough to make it. And to top it all, he went and fucked everyone who wasn’t me…” You looked down at your fork, pushing around with the bits of food still left on your plate.

“Sounds like a little bitch… Pardon my French. I think that you need a real man, someone to take care of you.” A hesitant hand had reached to hold yours that was resting on the black marble countertop, but he backed out and rested it very close beside it. “Or I don’t need a man; I can take care of myself just fine.” Your posture stiffened, still jaded by what your ex had done to you. You had a hard time trusting people who want to get close. Especially now when you can always do something for them, whether that be money, fifteen minutes of fame, or exposure. It all came down to people leeching off one another in this world. Another reason you were hesitant to come tonight was because you knew that Eddie and you had done this deal to do just that for one another. Only this time, it was a mutual agreement; you both know what you’re getting into, so why did it bother you?

“Everyone needs someone, Angel. You can’t be alone forever; humans don’t work that way. We are social creatures we need affection...intimacy.” His tone was strong as he lifted your chin gently in his hand to make you look him in the eyes.

“What about you? You’re a catch; why are you single?” You break your gaze. “Well darlin’, I’m now a full-time dad slash ex-party boy, my reputation precedes me and honestly nobody wants all the baggage that comes with being with me.” He sighs

“Baggage?” You question why a furrowed brow. “You are way too young to know about the things I used to get up to back when I was your age… god that makes me sound old.” He chuckles.

“I think you’re being too hard of yourself; you’re so handsome and charming and a great cook. You, Mr. Munson, are a catch” You smile, reaching to touch his bicep. His eyes flick down to your hand and back up your eyes. He may have been out of the dating scene for almost a decade, but he knew when a girl was flirting with him.

“You trying to butter me up, sweetheart?” He moved closer to you so your noses were almost touching. “What if I am?” Your voice is more than a whisper. “I think we should practice some of our chemistry... we will need to be pretty convincing for the cameras.” you continued.

Eddie didn’t need any more confirmation. He closed the small gap; his plush lips were so gentle, your mouths moved in sync, and his hands moved up to cup your cheeks. You moved so yours rested on the back of his neck.

Kissing Eddie made your head spin; he was firm and in control, but he was so soft, nothing was rushed, and you were both soaking up the moment. You both felt the spark, but neither would care to admit it. This was supposed to be just business, wasn’t it? This didn’t feel like just business. No, this was unbridled attraction. Eddie was the first to pull away. If he hadn’t, another side of him that hadn’t come out in a very long time would be unleashed. He cleared his throat, trying to distract himself from the blood rushing to his cock. You were sad when he pulled away, your head was spinning and you cursed yourself for wanting more. It was only your first date. “I ummm, I guess we can say we have some chemistry?” You scolded yourself. That sounded so lame!

Eddie laughed, “Yeah babe I guess you could say that, but I want to make sure…” He leaned in for another kiss, he was insatiable, it had been years since he’d kissed a woman he cared about, and your mouth was so sweet, your lipgloss tasted like peaches. He got brave, slipped in his tongue, and gripped your waist this time, pulling you closer. The screech of the metal stool being dragged across the hardwood floors was startling, but neither of you reacted. You moaned when his hands gripped the sliver of skin that separated your pants from your top. You placed your hands where they rested before on his neck so you were able to hug yourself closer into him.

“I would definitely say there is some chemistry, Angel.” He pulled away begrudgingly once again. He really needed to stop himself. He could not scare you off, especially on the first date. “You’re a good kisser.” You sigh, eyes still closed, soaking up everything that is Eddie. It made you think about all the other things that Eddie would be good at. Eddie moaned, knowing he could fucking rock your world, but he would have to be patient, he would have to wait.

The rest of the night went smoothly. You had a great time getting to know one another better. You’d learned how he was such a reckless party boy until Vi was born. You bonded on how you both loved to be on stage, how he cannot wait to get back out there but is nervous about releasing new stuff because what if his fans had moved on? You got to know a side of Eddie that the public didn’t ever get a glimpse of.

He glanced at his watch and noticed that it was already 11:30 p.m. You had only gotten there around 7:00 p.m; he didn’t want the night to end but hadn’t an early morning in the studio with the band. He didn’t let you leave without a kiss goodbye. You had melted at his touch, what was supposed to be a quick goodnight kiss turned into a mini make-out session, leaving you with soaked panties to deal with on your drive back to your condo.

As you lay in bed that night, you scroll through your phone, looking at the pictures you took from that night. Roger suggested getting some pictures, putting them on socials, and tagging Eddie in them to get the ball rolling. Your first “date” with Eddie would be set up for next week, and a little bit of gossip never hurt anyone. You look to find the perfect picture to post to your Instagram story. It was a picture of your food, wine, and Eddie's tattooed hand on the counter beside you. His unmistakable purple rose tattoo was in the frame, but you still tagged him just to be safe.

You captioned to picture “Get you a man who can cook just as well as he can sing 😉 @MonsterMunson” That was cute? Right? Oh well too late. You closed your eyes and clicked the post.

A few minutes later you receive a text

Eddie: So I’m your man huh? 😏 Angel: Technically yes, you signed the contact soooo… legally you’re mine lol Eddie: I’m only kidding, Princess Angel: You sure like to tease me a lot😢 Eddie: You will know when I am teasing you, Angel.

It had been about fifteen minutes since Eddie texted you, and he was worried he had crossed a line. Was his flirting too much? Coming on too strong? Maybe this was all contractual to you. Were you calling your publicist to rip up the contact? His thoughts were running wild until he heard his phone go off. He reached for it as it sat facedown on the coffee table. It was a text from you.

Angel: Sorry my phone crashed from all the notifications I’ve been getting about posting the story. Seems like the plan is working!

Maybe this all was just contractual to you after all? But what about that kiss? Eddie was conflicted, fighting with himself, and he was too stubborn to outright ask you. He finally decided to reply 20 minutes later to not look desperate.

Eddie: Great.

When you looked at the reply he seemed off. He used a period. Why was he being dry? He’s old, maybe he thinks punctuation is necessary? You told yourself not to read into it as much.

🎸𖤐𝄞💿𓆩🎧𓆪 🎸𖤐𝄞💿

You haven’t heard much from Eddie since your first date, which was disappointing, but you kept telling yourself it's because he’s older, he’s busy, he was a single dad, and you understood his hectic lifestyle. He would still text you good morning and good night, but he’d only text you one-word answers; he said he prefers calls over texts. So why hasn’t he called you? Screw it, your first public date was coming up, and you wanted his attention. He was probably in the studio today, so you didn’t want to call him. So you texted him first instead.

Angel: Hi handsome 🥰

An hour had passed, and still no reply. Little did you know that every time you texted Eddie, butterflies would erupt in his stomach, but he had to play it cool. You were doing this all for the show, he thought. After an hour of impatient waiting, you decided to be bold. You needed to get his attention, and an idea struck you. You crossed the room to your walk-in closet and started searching. Eddie saw your contact on his phone screen again as he waited his turn outside the sound booth with Jeff and Felix to get into the booth to do the background vocals while Gareth was perfecting his drum solo.

Your contact name lingered there on the lock screen, taunting him. He shoved his phone back on the table and tried to ignore the incessant need to talk to you. “What's up, man?” Jeff asked Eddie, as he was clearly bothered. “Who’s Angel?” Felix leaned over, looking at Eddied's phone, which lit up again when it was thrown on the coffee table in front of them. The band did not know about the arrangement between you and Eddie. “No one, man, mind your business.” Eddie huffed. “You gotta girl we don’t know about?” Felix laughed. “Maybe it’s his daughter?” Jeff suggested. “Oh, it’s definitely not his daughter.” Felix had Eddie’s phone unlocked in his hand.

“What do you mea- give me that!” Eddie snatched the phone out of Felix’s hands and looked down at a picture of you laying in bed wearing a tight red mini cocktail dress. Most of your face was cut out, but he could see you seductively bite your index finger. Eddie's eyes bulged out of his head. He read the text underneath it.

Angel: “This look ok for our date on Friday?” 🤭

Eddie still hadn’t replied. His brain was too busy short-circuiting. It had been an whole hour and ten minutes of him not answering you, and you were getting annoyed and needy. You sent another text, praying it would finally get his attention. Jeff grabbed the phone from Eddie before he could think.

“Damn, Eddie, you are one lucky man, who is she” Jeff smirked. Before Eddie could get his phone back, your text went through, and Jeff read it out loud.

“From Angel: Maybe it’s too much? I wouldn’t be able to wear any underwear with it… can’t have panty lines showing. Winking face,” Jeff finished and looked at Felix with a smirk. “My man! Still have some game after all this time.” Felix laughed. “When was the last time you were even with a girl?” Jeff asked. Eddie grabbed his phone out of Jeffs's hands, ignoring the question and stormed out of the room.

It was now an hour and fifteen minutes since you triple-texted Eddie... This was pathetic. Just as you were about to wallow in self-pity, your phone started to ring. It was Eddie, your heart leapt into your throat, you answered it on the fourth ring.

“Hey, hot stuff,” You greeted him. “What do you think you’re doing?” Eddie’s voice was stern and hushed like he didn’t want anyone to hear him. “What do you mean?” You tried to play dumb. “Oh, you know exactly what I mean,” he chuckled darkly. “You didn’t like my dress?” you kept your voice sickly sweet and way too innocent. “You’re a little minx, you know that?” Eddie growled through the phone. Your body reacted to his voice so easily, a shiver ran up your spine.“I-I didn’t do anything?” You still played dumb. “You better wear that on Friday, sweetheart, but I’ll need to know if you decide to not wear your panties,” he whispered. “Why?” you were not letting go of this act. “Fuck sweetheart, you’re making me want to do bad things to you.” He sighed. He heard you giggle softly on the other end of the call. “Have I been a bad girl?” the flirting came so naturally when it came to Eddie. “You really know how to wind a man up.” He shook his head. This was all for the show; this wasn’t supposed to be real. Then why were you playing him like it was? “If I was there right now, you have no idea what I wou-”

“Ed! Let’s go, we need you, man!” Gareth cut off Eddie from behind a closed studio door. “Fuck, I gotta go. I’ll talk to you later. No more pictures, ok? The guys damn well near had a heart attack.” And with that, Eddie hung up. So he was at the studio, and you had worked him up. Your plan was working.

🎸𖤐𝄞💿𓆩🎧𓆪 🎸𖤐𝄞💿

The rest of the week flew by, and Friday seemed to sneak up on you. Working in the studio, writing and recording some demos took up much of your time. Eddie was gradually getting better with texting you, but you understood that he was in the same boat as you.

You look at the clock and see it is time to prepare for your date! You take a shower, exfoliating and shaving everywhere because you never know. When you get out, you pour yourself a little glass to loosen. You apply your makeup as you let your hair sit in a towel on top of your head. Your drink was two-thirds gone by the time you dried and styled it. It has been a few hours, and you finally slipped on your tight little dress. You paired it with some black strappy heels and your Armani clutch, and you were ready to go. You gave yourself a once over in the mirror, spritzed some last-minute perfume because you had forgotten, triple-checked you had applied deodorant, applied one last layer of lipgloss, and had to remind yourself less is more. You forced yourself out of the bathroom, or you would keep adding to your ensemble.

Walking out of your bathroom, you hear the apartment buzzer going off. Eddie was to pick you up at 6:00 p.m., and you glanced at your phone to see it was 6:01 p.m. “Hey, sweet girl, buzz me up?” You hear over the intercom. Butterflies erupt in your stomach when you hear his voice. “No need. I’m coming down!” You reassured him. “How can I be a gentleman and pick you up if you won’t let me in?” He laughed.

“Fine, come on up.” You playfully roll your eyes and hold the buzzer for him. You pace your foyer for about 5 minutes, but it feels like forever. You hear a quick knock on the door, and you whip it open so quick your hair blows in its wake. You’re stunned by the man standing before you. Eddie looks delicious. His hair was neatly pulled back in a low bun; he probably put some product in it to keep the frizz away. His all-black suit was tailored for him exactly. His crisp white button-up wasn't done up all the way, showing off his chest tattoos. Eddie lets out a whistle when he sees you; the bouquet of flowers he is holding drops down as he itches his brow with his thumb. “You’re making it awfully hard to be a gentleman, baby… Give me a spin. Let me see you.” he lifts your hand to turn you slowly. Baby. It makes your head spin, or was that because he was literally spinning you? “Beautiful.” He half says under his breath. The hallway was quiet, so you managed to hear whether he intended for you to or not. “We should get going,” You say as you’re about to lock the door. “Wait! Here.” He shoved the flowers into your hands, which you both almost forgot about. The bouquet was a mix of different flowers of all shades of pink, white, and green. A huge smile broke on your face. You weren’t used to this, men opening doors for you, bringing you flowers.

You invited him in, wanting to put them in water before you left. You bent over to find a vase in your bottom cabinets. “No panty lines, I see.” You heard the smugness in his voice. “So you openly admit that you’re checking me out?” you ask, your back still turned to him as you fill the glass with water. You turn to see a smug smile on his face and playfully roll your eyes in return. “We should get going, or else I don’t think I'll be able to leave; you make that dress look criminal.” He sighs." Keep it professional, Mr. Munson. We are on duty tonight.” You giggle as you lock your door. Eddie rests his hand on the small of your back as you walk to the elevator. He opens the car door for you, and you try to cover up your excited smile.

Roger told you the paparazzi will be tipped off and will capture the both of you after you leave. They booked you a table at this new hot spot restaurant called Enzo’s. The food was supposed to be incredible; you were excited about getting a table there.

The walk into the restaurant wasn’t very outrageous. The hostess showed you two your table, a booth seated next to a smaller window… very subtle, Roger. “So what’s your favourite Italian meal?” You asked Eddie, picking up the menu. “Anything when I’m actually in Italy,” He said casually. “Okay, Mr. Hotshot, what about when you’re not in Italy.” You picked up a breadstick, nibbling on the end. “Rissoto alla Milanese,” He says in a flawless accent. “Don’t tell me you speak Italian,” You accuse. The waiter comes to take your drink orders, and Eddie continues on. “Corroded Coffin has a big Italian demographic, surprisingly. We spend a lot of time touring there. This Café in Amalfi has the best pastries you’ll ever taste! I’ll have to take you some time.” He smiles.

The waiter returned with your drinks, but you waited a little longer to order because you still needed to look at the menu. “Oh, you wanna take me to Italy?” you ask while sipping your red wine. “Name a place and time, baby. I’ll fire up the jet.” He sips his amaretto. “You have a jet?” You choke out. You truly forgot how big of a star Eddie Munson is. He is an A list, while you’re more likely on the C list. How is it that he agreed to do this contract with you? “Of course I do.” He said nonchalantly.

After finishing one of the best meals you ever had, a flash of light filters through the window. “And so it starts,” Eddie sighs. Honestly, you had forgotten that this night wasn’t supposed to be an authentic date. You’re supposed to not have any strings attached, no feeling, no commitment, no attraction! Then tell that to your vagina...

“Can I get you anything for dessert?” The waiter asks. “I guess we have to milk it a little longer?” you half-whisper. Eddie orders you a tiramisu to share. “I am having a lot of fun tonight.” Eddie admits, “Me too.” you bite your lip. A few minutes later, your cake is presented on the table. You cheers your silver teaspoons and dig in. You let your senses take over as you put the sweet cake and cream in your mouth. You let out an audible moan as your head falls back. Just like how you did for the meal Eddie Cooked You.

Eddie’s eyes go dark as he hears the moan leave your mouth, forgetting where he is and what he is meant to be doing. “You really know how to tease me, Princess.” Your head snaps back up at Eddie's omission. “I thought you were supposed to be the expert tease?” You place another piece of cake in your mouth and slowly slide the spoon down your lips. Eddie looked at you like he would devour you, and you were willing to let him. Another flash brought the both of you back into reality. Letting out a sigh, you both decided to wrap up the date. Eddie paid and grabbed your hand to help you out of the booth. “Ready for this shit show, Princess?” He wrapped a protective arm around your shoulder. “Ready as I’ll ever be.” You said while peering into his beautiful brown eyes.

Eddie opened the doors of Enzo’s, and it was like walking into a circus. There were what looked like 15 Paps, all surrounding the doors, the bright flashes, the yelling of your names, so many voices telling you where to look. You smiled slightly and watched where your and Eddie's feet took you.

You suddenly felt someone grab the back of your dress, making you let out a small yelp. Eddie asks you what’s wrong. You tell him someone grabbed you, and something switches within Eddie. “Who put their hands on my girl?” Eddie was seeing red. You begged Eddie to get you to the car before a fight broke out. He saw the fear in your eyes, pushed your way through the sea of cameras, and safely made it to the car. “You okay, Angel?” Eddie asked once he was in the driver's seat. “Yeah, I think so. That was really scary,” you say while steadying your breath. “First time?” He asks you while resting his hand on the back of my head for comfort. “That obvious?” You say with a shaky laugh. “I’ve been doing this for ten-plus years, Angel. It never gets any easier.” He shook his head.

“Thank you for standing up for me.” You go to grab his other hand that was resting on the console, and you give it a light squeeze. The moment was so intimate you were dying to kiss him. His lips were stained red from the tomato sauce, and his cologne was so intoxicating. To just lean in a little bit more...

The cameras were still flashing, and Eddie needed to get the both of you out of there, “They’ve had their fair share of pictures.” He whispers as he leans back. He wants to kiss you; he so wants to kiss you at this moment, but he doesn’t want to kiss you just for cameras. He wants that between the two of you, away from the public. But you didn’t know that. You think it’s hit him that this is all for the show, that he is just doing this for the contract. You are so far into your head the rest of the way home. You’re very quiet compared to when you were at dinner with Eddie.

“Everything okay, Baby?” Eddie asks as he pulls into your building's visitor parking spot. “Yeah, just a crazy night… Well, thank you for dinner. I believe we pulled it off, um, goodnight.” You shake it off and go to open the passenger door.

“Woah woah woah, slow down, let me.” He reaches out to stop you, and you roll your eyes at his need to be gentlemanly. You see him scurry around the front of the car. He swings the door open and holds out his hand to help you out of the car. “M’lady” slips out as he helps you stand.

“Thank you, kind sir.” You give a small curtsy. “I’ll walk you to your apartment. Make sure you get home safe.” He guides you to the elevators. Hand resting on your back the whole way up, you were so tempted to lean your head on his shoulder, but you had to remind yourself this was all an act even though you wanted it to be more.

“Well... this is me.” You say as you get to your front door. An internal cringe runs through your body. Of course, he knows this is you. He picked you up from here mere hours ago. “So it is,” Eddie says, hoping you invite him in. “Um, well, thanks for dinner, goodnight.” You turn to unlock the door, but Eddie stops you by placing his hand on your hand with the keys. “Woah, hold on, Sweetheart, you’re not getting away that easy. What’s going on in that pretty head of yours? Hm, you’ve been quiet since the car?” He lifted your chin up to look at him. “This is all so new for me. I guess I’m overwhelmed.” It wasn’t a lie; it was overwhelming this new life you made for yourself. “I know, Angel, this world is crazy, but you have me, okay? You don’t have anything to be afraid of.” He reassured you, but it didn’t help. You had lots to be afraid of. You were scared of your feelings for Eddie; you’re scared he doesn’t feel the same way.

Eddie saw the look on your face; your thoughts were spinning, and he saw the wheels in your head turning. He wanted to make it all go away. He needed to make you feel better, to turn off all your thoughts. Eddie did what he knew best; he leaned in to kiss you. It was unexpected. It caught you off guard but brought you back to reality. Eddie was soft and gentle. A peck was all it was, but it was more than that underneath. You two had something special, it was undeniable that you both felt it but were too chicken to admit it.

Eddie was the first to pull away once again, and you hated that he did. “Do you want to come inside?” You don’t know where that offer came from. This was not how the night was to end up. “Are you sure, Angel? You were ready to shoo me off your doorstep a minute ago.” He chuckled. “Do you want some coffee?” You started to unlock your door.

“I don’t think coffee is what I want to consume if I join because of how you’re wearing that dress…” He has that look again like he could eat you. A shiver runs down your spine. “I thought you were trying to be a gentleman? Am I not a Lady.” You turn in your doorway. “Yes, and a Lady she shall stay…for now.” He leaned in to give you one last head-spinning kiss. “Goodnight, Baby.” He takes your hand and raises it to his mouth. “Let me know when you get home safe.” You hum. Eddie has you hypnotized.

After seeing him get into the elevator, you lock your door and start to get unready. You plop down on your bed, makeup wipe in hand, feeling conflicted. On one hand, you have Eddie at your fingertips; on the other, you have your entire career to worry about. You ultimately decide that not sleeping with Eddie was the best choice. It keeps things simple and sure your pussy throbs whenever he kisses or touches you, but that would go away… right? You haven’t been touched in a while.…that’s all it is, so why can’t you help yourself from reaching down further until you feel your wet folds? You had no panties on; it wasn’t a lie on your part. You could feel your slick coating the tops of your inner thighs. You were so wet. How had you just noticed now? Your pussy was begging for attention. You had to give in.

You stripped off your dress you were laying there naked in your bed. You thought about how Eddie’s lips felt against yours, how his big hands felt when he rested them on your back and thigh while driving. You thought about what his skilled mouth was capable of. Your clit was screaming at you for relief as you teased yourself getting ready. You couldn’t take it anymore. You gave yourself the relief you needed, circling your clit with just the right amount of pressure. Your other hand explored your breasts, toying with each nipple that sent a sensation of pleasure straight to your pussy. You kept thinking about Eddie dominating you, how he would use such filthy words. Do you like being such a dirty little girl for me? Letting me use you as my little fuck toy? Such a good girl for me.

You imagined Eddie’s voice repeating those words repeatedly until your head was spinning, the coil in your lower belly was tightening, it was about to snap, so close, you curled harder and harder. You’re lost in the feeling; you don’t even realize your phone is ringing… until you do. It broke you out of the almost orgasm. Fuck you lost it.

You angrily look to see who is calling; your mood switches when you see the man of your fantasy face timing you, so you answer, not thinking about how you're naked. “Hey, pretty girl, made it home.” He smiled. It looked like he was sitting in his bed. “You made good time,” You say, panting, slowly regaining your breath. “Are you naked?!” Eddie's eyes bulge out of his head.

“Who is that, Daddy?” you both hear a small voice coming from Eddie’s end. “Shit,” he said under his breath before he continued, “Cupcake, go back to bed. It’s midnight, way past your bedtime!” He’s talking to his daughter, and you scramble to put on the old t-shirt you had lying on your bed from getting ready earlier.

“Is that Poppy?” You can hear the excitement in her voice. Who is Poppy? Did he have another girl around he didn’t tell you about? “Poppy? Who’s Poppy?” Eddie asks Violet Rose, confused. “POPPY! like Princess of POP!” She explains that he’s a moron. Eddie still doesn’t understand, so she continues, “You call her Angle; I call her Poppy because a Poppy is also a flower, just like me! VIOLET ROSE and POPPY” She spells it out for him. Your heart swells that they both have nicknames to use for you. “I like that, Vi. We can be flower power buddies.” You giggle at the nickname.

The padding of her feet sped up like she was running at the sound of your voice. Eddie shook on the screen before you, and he let out an “oof” sound. “Violet Rose, do not make me ask you again,” his voice was stern. “But Daddy, pleeeeeeease, I just want to say hi, and I’ll go to bed! I pinky promise!” You see her milk chocolate curls pop into view.

“Hiiiiiiiiiiii Poppy! You should come over to our house now you and Daddy are friends! You can come to my pool party! ” She is such a sweet kid. “Hi, cutie, I’ll have to ensure that’s okay with your Dad.” You reply, looking at him. Eddie’s brows furrow, thinking about if that’s a good idea or not?

“Cupcake, you said hello now go to bed,” Eddie chides. “Fine… byeeee!” She waves furiously at the phone camera and slumps off the bed out of view. “Sorry about her; she is very excitable when it comes to you. She hasn’t stopped talking about the concert,” he apologized. “It’s okay, baby; she’s adorable and a really sweet kid.” Baby, it just slipped out. You try and play it off like nothing happened, but Eddie couldn’t allow that.

“Baby, huh? I thought we were off duty?” He slides down his pillows, resting a hand behind his head, propping his head up. You can see the swell of his bicep flexing behind his head, and you blush at the accusation. “Off the clock or not, there is no denying you’re a babe. Some may even say DILF,” What had gotten into you?! Maybe it was all that fancy Italian wine from the restaurant; that was it, definitely. “DILF, huh? What exactly were you doing when I called?” his tone changed. It was sultry and deep, and it shot right through to your core. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” Two can play at this game. “Where you touching yourself, Angel?” He questioned. “Mr. Munson, I have never!” You throw your hand up to your chest dramatically. This made Eddie laugh, so you loved the sound of his laugh and the way his eyes crinkled, making his crow's feet even more pronounced.

“Please, Sweetheart, Mr. Munson is my uncle, don’t make me feel that old.” He shook his head. “Do you think I was touching myself to the thought of you? You dirty old man?” You couldn’t keep a straight face. You let out a barked laugh and apologized. “I’m sorry,” you say between giggles. “I’ll never say that again! I think it’s the wine; my head feels loopy.” You slunk back into your pillows and rested your head. Eddie just laughed in return but thought you were cute and funny. You were easy to talk to. “You look awfully comfortable, Princess.” He wished he was lying beside you. “Wish you were joining me,” you half whispered while fighting to keep your eyes open. “Yeah, me too. Sweet dreams, Angel." Eddie whispers in return. You think you’re dreaming it as you drift off.

🎸𖤐𝄞💿𓆩🎧𓆪 🎸𖤐𝄞💿

The next morning, Roger called to give you an update. “You guys sure sold it last night, let me tell ya! You sure you don’t want to go into acting?” He questioned, “Oh Rog, come on, I’m not that good of an actor,” you brush off. “Sweetheart, please, I saw the video on TMZ, the way Eddie blew up at that pap for bumping into you? Genius!” He exclaimed.

“It wasn’t just a bump, they grabbed me.” You huffed. “Well, whatever happened, I’m glad you’re okay, and you have everyone talking about the both of you!” The plan truly was working, so why did you feel so shitty? “Does the contract say anything about restrictions about when we see one another?” you ask, biting your perfectly manicured thumb. “No, why do you ask?” Roger asks, confused. “Well, his daughter invited me to her pool party, and I was thinking about going?” You had to play this off right; you can’t let Roger know your true feelings and call the whole thing off. “Can’t see anything wrong with that, I suppose? It will make it look more real if you’re seen going over to his house, if anything! Give me a time and address, and I’ll set it up.” He chimed.

Shit, this is not what you wanted.

“Uh, I’m not sure I want the paps around because of his kid; it doesn’t feel right. What if I just do more social media postings?” You rush out. “Fine, but send it to me first; I must approve everything.” Roger commanded.“Ok, thanks, Rog,” you sighed with relief. “Bye, sweetheart.” He hung up.

🎸𖤐𝄞💿𓆩🎧𓆪 🎸𖤐𝄞💿

A week later, you arrive at Eddie’s house around 1:00 p.m. and hear your song blasting from the speakers, which you presume are in the backyard. You make your way around to the side gate Eddie said for you to come through since that’s where all of them were. You walk around the garden to see 7 little girls splashing in the swimming pool and poor Eddie looking so stressed about being the only supervisor. You let out a soft giggle to yourself when you take him in. He was such a girl dad; you could see he had bright pink and blue nail polish that was clearly done by a child. His hair was up in a high ponytail with different butterfly clips pinning his bangs back, glitter in his beard, and he had on purple eyeshadow that matched the glittery purple feather boa wrapped around his neck. It was a great contrast to the all-black ensemble he was sporting. It made your heart melt to see him being such a good sport about all of this. You could tell he literally would do anything to make his child happy.

“I see you are testing out a new stage look.” You motion up and down. Eddie doesn’t care; he immediately embraces you in a tight hug. “Thank god you’re here!” You can feel the stress in his body melt away when you hug him back. “Of course, I’ll do anything for Vi.” You smiled up at him, making the butterflies in his stomach come to life. Eddie was simp, and he knew it. You’re everything he has ever wanted; he just had to convince you he was what you needed. “That bad, huh?” You cock your head to the side. Eddie could kiss you, and he would if his daughter wasn’t five feet away from him. “You know, I thought I would be okay. I’ve done this before, but now she is twelve and a preteen, and I don’t know what I am doing anymore. Soon, she will be a teenager, and I’m going to be the guy she won’t come to for advice, and she will be drinking and partying and the BOYS! Oh god, the boys! Or girls, you never know? I don’t care, but I can’t deal with anyone breaking her heart and-” “Eddie, breathe.” You touch his biceps, rubbing your hands up and down, grounding him back to reality. “I can handle this; why don’t you go have a smoke, take a breather, grab some water or maybe something stronger, and I’ll be right here watching them, okay?” Your vanilla cinnamon perfume is wafting his senses, calming him down. You were grounding him, letting him know you’re here for him. He didn’t think he could fall for you any harder, but here you are, showing up for him and his baby girl.

Eddie returned back to the yard about twenty minutes later. In all honesty, he had needed two cigarettes to calm himself. When he finished his smoke break, he grabbed a tray and brought out glasses of lemonade for everyone. He walked back out and was stopped in his tracks; he was taking you in for the first time that day. The sight of you in your Barbie pink bathing suit, the same one from that music video. You have all the girls lined up, teaching them some choreography you learned from the same music video. You were so patient and kind and looked so good in that bathing suit. Eddie forgot where he was for a moment; his mind flashed to him between your legs, shifting that small piece of nylon to the side so he could ravish you.

“Dad, look what we learned!” His thoughts were cut off by the sweet voice of his daughter. Fucking hell, Munson get it together, he scolded himself. You were like a damn succubus pulling him into a dirty world he never wanted to escape from. “Looking good, ladies.” He couldn’t peel his eyes away from you; the way your hips shifted side to side, it was all innocent, of course, but that didn’t change the fact that Eddie couldn’t help himself.

“Daddy, is Poppy your girlfriend?” Eddie's head snapped up from the conversation he was having with you at the head of the table while the rest of the girls were having their sandwiches. His head snaps back to you, then back to Violet Rose, “Well-” he clears his throat, thinking about his options. He could tell Vi and the rest of her friends the truth and have to risk them blabbing to their parents and getting the story leaked, or he could lie to his daughter…

Eddie grabs your hand. “You see, Vi, Angel is very special to me.” Not a lie. “So she and I have gone out on some dates.” This is also not a lie. “So, yes, she is my girlfriend.” Also, not technically a lie? “Why is she your girlfriend?” This was Violet Roses's first experience with her father dating someone and, on top of that, dating someone so publicly, but this was not a question Eddie was prepared for. “Um, well, Cupcake,” Eddie was now looking you dead in the eyes. “When you find someone that makes you happy, you want to be with that person… commit to that person. She is kind, she is funny and easy to talk to. She understands what it’s like to be in this crazy world we call Hollywood. She knows how to make me feel cared for and respected. When you find someone like that, you never want to let them go, so you ask them to be with you… that’s why she is my-my girlfriend.” The words spewed out of Eddie like word vomit.

He admitted to many preteen girls his admiration for you and felt his cheeks turning bright red. He will blame the sun. A bunch of “awwwwwes” escaped the table, even if you looked at him like he just gave you the world.

“Who wants ice cream?” He shot up from the table and started walking inside.

“Wow, you almost convinced me you really meant what you were saying.” Eddie jumped, not thinking you had followed him back into the house. “Uhhh yeah- totally.” He cleared his throat. “You really had me going there; you sure you’re also not an actor?” You giggle a little bit uncomfortably. You had wished his words were sincere. He shook his head no and went to the freezer to get the ice cream to make milkshakes. “um, so anyways…Roger said we needed to take pictures together and post them.” You changed the subject. “Oh, um, okay, I guess yeah, why not?” Eddie was visibly frazzled, and you still think it’s because of the party.

“Here, let me get this for them? You go get freshened up, and we can take some pictures, okay?” you give him a soft smile. “What, I look that bad, Princess? Don’t want to be seen with an old man?” He scoffs. “Oh, um, I mean, if you want the whole world to see badass Eddie Munson looking like Violet Rose’s personal Barbie Styling Head, then by all means,” You giggle. Eddie had totally forgotten about the little makeover the girls gave him this entire time.“Shit,” he ran to the bathroom to fix himself.

“She going to be my mom”

“You’re so lucky! I wish she would be my mom!”

“You already have a mom. And I don't! ”

Those are the words you overhear when you go back outside with the assortment of different flavour milkshakes. Oh fuck.

“Who wants ice cream?” You ask in a sing-song voice, changing the subject immediately.

Eddie returned about ten minutes later to take an assortment of pictures and send them to Roger for approval. Roger sends you back the ones you can post on your main feed and your stories. He assigned you and Eddie each your own ones to post.

The one of you standing by Eddie's side and him kissing your cheek and Violet Rose with the biggest smile on her face in front of the both of you was your favourite. You got to post that one, and Eddie got to post the one of you and Violet Rose holding hands and dancing. The internet went wild. Everyone was saying how you were such a cute family, how everyone shipped the two of you. It seemed like your perfect little world wasn’t so fake after all? Maybe it could be real?

🎸𖤐𝄞💿𓆩🎧𓆪 🎸𖤐𝄞💿

Being Eddie Munson's fake girlfriend was a dream. He took you out on dates; most were planned by the publicity team, but he would ask you to see him without them knowing because he “wanted to see one another without paparazzi.” He pampered you like no other man had in the past, and he wasn’t even your real boyfriend. He likes to buy you things, little things he sees that remind him of you. The last thing he got you were matching bunny slippers with Violet Rose because “you’re just so cute.”

Things between the two of you were becoming routine. You would go over to his house after long studio sessions. You would hang out with Violet Rose even if Eddie wasn’t home yet. You were becoming very attached to her. She would always be able to bring your mood up no matter how you were feeling. Around 4:30p.m, you’d gotten a call from Eddie, who was panicked. “I’m so sorry. I hate to ask this of you, but the nanny had a family emergency, and I won’t be home until I don’t even know when? I didn’t have anyone else to call, and I trust you with her, so can you stay with VR until I get home?” He was frantic. Your heart fluttered that he trusted you enough to watch over Vi. “Eddie, it’s okay, I’m free to watch her- Oh! We can have a pyjama party! We can paint our nails, do some face masks, eat junk food, and watch movies! Oh, it will be so fun!” You hear Eddie release the breath that he was holding.“Thank you so much. You truly are my Angel. You’re sure you’re okay with this?” you can hear the worry in his voice, so you reassure him that it will only be a few hours and everything will be okay.

“Baby Munson?! Your dad is running late, so it’s just us girls for now; you okay with that?” you smiled at her after the Nanny let you in as she was dashing out the door. “OH EM GEEEEEEE!” She jumped up and down with excitement. You had packed your bag with all the essentials for the ultimate slumber party. You had stopped at the store to get sheet masks, candies and chips, and some teen magazines with those fun quizzes. “Go put in your pyjamas. We are having a slumber party!” You told her and went to the bathroom to change into yours, only you realize that you had forgotten the most important part of the pyjama party, the pyjamas. Shit

You exit the bathroom still in your jeans and t-shirt as Violet storms down the stairs, sounding like a herd of Elephants. “Where are your pj’s?” she asks. “Silly me was too excited about getting all the supplies. I forgot to pack them,” You admit. “That's okay, you can wear my dad’s! He lets me sleep in his old t-shirts all the time!” She tugs your hand before you can protest and drags you to his room.

“Violet, are you sure it’s okay for me to be in here?” You take in Eddie’s bedroom. It seems very intimate to be inside someone's personal space. Violet Rose rifles through Eddie’s armour and passes you a faded Corroded Coffin tour shirt and a pair of grey sweatpants.

“Are you sure this is okay?” You ask her again. “Yeah, you’re his girlfriend? Why wouldn’t it be?” She quizzes you. She makes a very good point. You huff in defeat and walk to the bathroom to change.

As you exit, Vi has a hoard of blankets in her hands that you can only see her feet and the top of her head.

“Let's make a fort!” you hear her muffled cheers. “Ok, you get started, I’ll order pizza.” You smile.

You walk into the living room to tell her that the pizza should arrive soon. “You look cozy,” She says as you enter the family room. Violet runs and jumps into your arms, giving you a big hug. “So do you, baby Munson.” You giggle. After the fort was constructed and too many slices of pizza were consumed, you start painting one another nails. Violet Rose chose her favourite colour for you, purple, not surprisingly… and you chose pink for her. “I’m really happy you’re my dad's girlfriend.” She says while stuffing her face with a brownie. “I am, too.” you try not to blush. “He is a lot happier now you’re here.” She spews out nonchalantly. “What makes you say that?” You question. “He is always humming now; sometimes, I’ll catch him humming your songs. And he is playing the guitar more and writing love songs.” She shrugs her shoulders. “How would you know he is writing love songs?” You look at her quizzically. “I went into his music room and saw them on the table! One of them was titled Forever My Angel! Wanna see!” her eyes go wide god, they are just like her father's. “No, sweetheart, I wouldn’t want to see something he isn’t ready to show me.” You continue to paint her other hand even though you're screaming at yourself for not peaking. “Oh, and he lets me get away with not doing my chores as much, annnnnd he told me a secret. Oh no! I wasn’t supposed to tell you that! Oops!” she covered her mouth with both hands, making the nail brush paint across her fingers. “A secret, huh? Your Daddy talking about me when I’m not around?” Your heart swelled at the thought.

The lines of what was real and what was fake were becoming extremely blurred. Violet Rose nodded hesitantly. “It’s okay, don’t tell me, if it is supposed to be a secret, then it will stay a secret.” You wipe off the excess polish off of her fingers.

The rest of the night was filled with Disney princess movies, more junk food, and pre-teen romance quizzes; according to yours, you were destined to be with Harry Styles, and Violet was most compatible with Ross Lynch. Time flew by with Violet; after you cleaned up your mess, you snuggled back into the fort with her to put on the next movie. She chose the Disney movie Brave and said it was one of her favourites. You haven’t even noticed the time when you put on the movie; it was already quarter to midnight, and Eddie still wasn’t home.

Eddie walked into his house at 12:49 p.m. He had a whole speech prepared about how sorry he was, that they were on a roll and couldn’t stop recording until it was perfection. Eddie followed the sound of the TV calling your name a few times, but with no luck, you didn’t answer. Eddie rounded the corner to see the tented blankets and the couch cushions disassembled. He skimmed to himself and walked around to see if you guys were still in there. Sure enough, he sees both of you tucked up into one another, sleeping. Eddie’s heart swelled; he couldn’t picture a more perfect thing to come home to. It also didn’t escape him that you had on that old Corroded Coffin shirt, their first-ever tour merchandise. Eddie wanted to crawl in and be there with the two of you, but he thought better than to disrupt you. You were probably exhausted. You looked so peaceful he didn’t want to wake you, so he let you sleep.

You wake up the following day to the smell of pancakes and a massive crick in your neck. You open your eyes to a sheet suspended above your head. What the? The reality of where you are hits you. As your bones and joints start popping and cracking, you slowly shuffle out of the fort and make your way to the kitchen.

You could hear Eddie and Violet Rose singing Sweet Caroline. When you rounded the corridor, you saw Eddie had a wooden mixing spoon aimed at Violet like a microphone. You take in the sight and let out a small giggle.

“Good morning, Sunshine.” Eddie grinned at you.“Good morning,” you replied sheepishly. Was he annoyed you spent the night?

“Vi, go brush your teeth before you eat,” Eddie insisted.

He was plating the pancakes, and you glued over the counter it looked like an assortment of plain, chocolate chip, and blueberry.

“I’ll bet ten grand that kid didn’t brush them last night.” He winked at you over his shoulder. “Sorry,” You nervously bit your thumbnail and sat on the barstool. “I am only teasing you, Angel; I’m very grateful you watched over her last night.” He slid a pancake on your plate.

“I’m sorry for spending the night. I didn’t plan on it. You should have woken me up.” You fiddled with the hem of Eddie’s shirt you borrowed. “Nah, doll face, couldn’t do that to you; you were a literal Angel sleeping in my clothes…” Eddie bit his lip, eyeing you up and down.

“I’m sorry, out of all the things I forgot to pack for a slumber party, and Vi said it was okay, especially because I’m your “girlfriend,” You air quoted. “Mi casa es tu casa.” Eddie leaned back on the counter, spreading his arms wide and showing you his home.

“Well, um, thank you.” you tuck a piece of tussled hair behind your ear. “I should be the one thanking you, sweetheart. Truly owe you one, big time.” He sat down on the stool beside you. “It was my pleasure. Turns out being your fake girlfriend is more fun than I thought,” you said in a hushed tone, just in case Violet Rose had already come back down the stairs.

Eddie cleared his throat. He hated that this was all still supposed to be fake when he was catching feelings. He was one big fat simp for you. The guys don’t let him forget it. He talks about you when he is with them; he’s even writing songs about you. You’ve become his muse, saving grace, and Angel and he will eventually win you over. He had to, or else it would kill him if he didn’t…

“I, uh, shit… I couldn't have asked for a better person to be my fake girlfriend.” He shook his head. Way to play it cool, Munson.

🎸𖤐𝄞💿𓆩🎧𓆪 🎸𖤐𝄞💿

It’s been over 4 months since your deal with Eddie was signed, and nothing has died down. Both you and Eddie are being individually followed by the paparazzi when you’re out doing regular things, like when you’re running errands or when he is picking up Vi from school.

"Roger suggested we go on a shopping date together. Can you help me pick an outfit for Corroded Coffin's album release party this weekend?" You convince Eddie to go out shopping with you. Anyone who is anyone will be there. The guest list is star-studded, and it was a crucial night, not only to solidify your “relationship” with the public as you would be showing your support for your man but also to Eddie. He was very nervous about what everyone would think was the first new music they released in almost a decade. You being there for him meant everything.

Walking down the streets of Hollywood hand in hand, not missing the distinct clicks of the cameras, you enter the designer boutique. “So what’s the vibe for the party?” you question, skimming some dresses hanging on the wall. “Hmmm, I guess, metal…obviously. Dark, electric, sexy.” He hummed into your ear. An electric current coursed through your veins and down your spine. “Ok, not usually my go-to look, but I can make it work.” You whisper.

“You can make anything work.” Eddie slid a finger around your shoulder, moving your hair out of the way and down your back, stopping to rest it on your tailbone. “Hi, how can I help you today?” the salesperson greets the two of you. “We are here to find my girl an outfit for this weekend,” Eddie quickly replies. The way he says my girl shouldn’t get you as worked up as it does. You knew he was just putting it on. “Brilliant! what’s the occasion?” They ask with a smile. You rest your hand on Eddie’s chest, and you can feel his heart racing. “This sexy guy's album release party, have to look extra good to let him know how proud I am.” You look up to Eddie, staring down at you with a smile plastered to his face. After telling them more about the event, the floor worker shows you around and helps pick a few options. Eddie is sat by the changing rooms, champagne in hand, waiting for your little fashion show. You show him outfit after outfit, but none of them are working you like you wanted, until the last one.

You looked at yourself in the changing room mirror. You wore a Dolce and Gabbana sheer black lace corset that was practically lingerie and a tight black leather mini skirt that showed off all the right curves paired with thigh-high shiny black stiletto boots. This was 100% the winner, and you wanted it to surprise Eddie. “You coming out, Princess or do you need my help?” Eddie giggled into his champagne glass.

“Nope, you’re not seeing this until Saturday.” You stared to undress. “What, that’s not fair.” You could hear the pout in his voice. “I promise it will be Corroded Coffin approved.” You swing open the curtain, showing you are back in your back dressed in your signature pastel-coloured pallet. “I think I should at least get to see what I’m buying for you,” Eddie’s hand resting on the small of your back, leading you to the checkout counter. “You’re not paying for it?” You question him, confused. “Yes, I am.” He stops at the counter.

You place your clothes down and reach for your wallet, but Eddie is already handing over his black card before you can even unzip it. You open your mouth to protest, but Eddie is giving you that don’t be a brat look. “Thank you, but you didn’t have to do this.” You sigh. “Just want to take care of my girl.” He places a kiss on the top of your head.

There he goes again with those words that make your knees feel like jello. “The both of you are seriously so cute; thank you for shopping; enjoy the party!” The sales clerk waves you goodbye, and you do your best not to wobble with your Bambi knees.

🎸𖤐𝄞💿𓆩🎧𓆪 🎸𖤐𝄞💿

The Party is in full swing by 9:30 p.m., and you’re running a bit late due to your hair and makeup stylists; you have texted Eddie an apology, and he tells you not to stress. You leave the car at 9:55 p.m. and into the event with no issues. The paparazzi cameras flash, and you smile and give your name to the doorman.

“Ah yes, here you are, our special guests plus one. Go right on in. I’m sure it won’t be hard to find them.” He gave you a wink as you passed by.

Inside, it looked like a vampire's nightclub. All black, everything with gold and red accents, the lights were dim and moody. You definitely dressed the part. You had on the outfit you bought at the boutique, matched with a matte smoked-out dark eyeshadow with a glossy red lip and a slicked-back updo. You clutched your bag, grabbed a glass of whatever the servers were handing out on the silver trays and scanned the room for your date. Like the doorman said, you spotted him instantly. He was on an elevated platform with the rest of the band, mingling with the other VIP guests.

You approached the roped-off area, and the big security guard asked for your name. “No need, she’s with me.” Eddie let him know and stepped aside. Eddie took your hand to help you up the stairs. His eyes scanned you, and he subconsciously licked his lips as he blatantly checked you out. “I’m not even mad that you’re late, you look… wow… delicious, shit-no-I mean, incredible.” Eddie scolds himself. “Thank you, handsome; you look delicious yourself.” You kiss his cheek and give a one-arm hug hello.

“You think I’m joking, Princess? I’m not.” He whispers in your ear, making the chills come back to your skin. “Come, I want you to meet the band.” He guides you to sit with the rest of them. “Angel, this is Gareth, Jeff and Felix” You give a small wave, awestruck at who you’re meeting. “It’s so nice to meet you guys. My parents are huge fans, I grew up with your music in the house practically 24/7.”

“Way to make us feel old Angel.” Eddie leaned in and stroked your back. “I really don’t mean to.” You pout, not thinking. Eddie wants to kiss the pout right off your face, but not now; you will have lots of time for that later. “It’s nice to meet you, Angel,” Felix smiles.

You thought of correcting him and giving him your actual name, but you liked this newfound name Eddie has given you; it’s cute and makes you think of him whenever you hear the word. “So, how did you and Eddie meet?” Jeff asks, sitting back on the black velvet booth bench. You didn’t know if they knew or not? Did he tell them this was fake? You stutter a bit before Eddie takes over. “We met at her meet and greet when I took Violet Rose to her concert.” Simple, and the truth. “Your concert? So you some kind of singer,” Gareth questioned.

You weren’t offended, you didn’t expect them to know who you were, hell, you didn’t expect someone like Eddie to know who you were either. “Hey man, don’t be a dick” Eddie tightened his grip around your waist, his fingers buried into the soft flesh that made your skin tingle.

“Baby, it’s fine! They aren’t really my demographic.” You giggle, finally taking a sip of what seemed to be champagne in the black glass flute. Eddie's eyes blow wide open at the pet name, not very subtle Munson.

You continue speaking after your first sip. “Yeah, I’m a singer; I just finished my first headliner tour.” You smile, proud of your accomplishment.

“Angel here has the most beautiful voice you’ve ever heard, give them a few bars .” Eddie was proud and not a fake proud. He wanted to show you off and stake his claim. This feeling was so new to him, in his younger days he would just be with another pretty face but none of them ever made him feel like you do. When you were near, he always wanted to be touching you, never wanting to let you out of his sight, not in a creepy overbearing way but in a way that he was proud to be seen with you.

“Never seen you this smitten before, Munson did not think I would see the day.” Felix chimed in. “I really thought you were catfishing this poor ol’man. Nice to see you’re actually real. I couldn’t believe it when he told us he was dating someone. It's been years since Sarafina!” Gareth laughs. You snap your head to look at Eddie beside you and back at Gareth. “Did you just say Sarafina?” Your eyes bug out of your skull. Sarafina as in superstar runway model, academy award-winning actress Sarafina?! “What the fuck, Gareth!” Eddie scolds along with the other two bandmates.

“Oops,” Gareth shrinks back into his chair. “No more drinks for you, man.” Jeff takes away his glass of whiskey. “Is that Violet Rose’s mom?!” It's all clicking for you, of course; that gorgeous little girl’s mother is the most beautiful woman on the planet; she looks just like her!

Eddie can see the wheels in your head spinning. “She doesn’t know who her mom is, so please don’t say anything to her.” Eddie pleads. “Of course.” You grab Eddie’s hand and give it a squeeze. “Thank you.” He gives a small smile. “You dated Sarafina?” you half-whisper. “It was a long time ago. We were young and so dumb. We were partying so much I hardly even remember that week. Vi wasn’t planned. Sara didn’t want a kid, so she asked me to keep it hush-hush so she could live normally after the baby was born. No one knows except our inner circle.” Eddie sighed. You were surprised he was divulging all of this to you. Was it to make you feel better? Or was it to protect Vi? Probably the latter.

“Your secret is safe with me; I would do anything to protect that little pumpkin.” You smiled. Eddie felt his heart swell at the way you spoke about his baby girl; she is the light of his whole life, and for you to protect her made Eddie’s admiration for you grow tenfold. “Looks like you got yourself a keeper, Eds.” Jeff smiles at you and his best friend. “Yeah, I picked a good one.” He kisses your cheek, and you can’t help but feel butterflies.

As the night went on, several more drinks were had, and more dancing was done, more so you than Eddie. He mostly sat back and watched you sway your hips in that tiny dress that hardly covered your ass and those heels that made your legs look long and mouthwatering. He had to keep conscious not to pop a boner in the club, his unforgiving leather pants would not aid him.

You can feel Eddie eye fucking you as you dance the night away. The music was blasting, the alcohol was flowing, not enough to where you were drunk but enough to have a nice buzz that your inhibitions were slowly lifting, giving you the confidence to pull Eddie up to dance with you. “No, no, no, Sweetheart, I am excellent right here.” Eddie shakes his head.

“Eddie pleeeeeeease, I have no one else to dance with” You gave Eddie that little pout he cannot seem to resist. He throws his head back in defiance and gives in you your request letting you pull him out of the padded booth and into your arms. You start off slow to ease him into it. He is awkward and stiff. You see why he didn’t want to get up. A small giggle leaves your lips, and Eddie groans. “This is why I don’t dance, I don’t know how” He pinches his brows looking down at you.

“Come on, baby, you’re musically inclined; just find the beat and move your hips with mine.” You spin around so your ass is to his crotch, grab both hands and pin them to your hips so he can follow along. Eddie is stiffer than a board. He needed to loosen up, but how can he when you’re pressed up to him so close like this? He was struggling not to pop a boner just watching you. He can feel your cheeks pressed up against his shaft. He can smell your strawberry shampoo mixed with your vanilla cinnamon perfume, tingling his senses. He is snapped out of his trance when he feels your ass is sweeping across his dick.

“Eddie, you need to follow my lead. Move your hips.” You look over your shoulder to see his jaw clenched, eyes black with lust. Your hips slow down, dipping from side to side until Eddie starts to follow along. You smile up at him when he finally gets a feel for it. You grid your ass into the partial hard-on you can feel him sporting. You bring an arm up to rest on the back of his neck, and you can feel a brave hand run up from your hip to your middle and back down again. Eddie is feeling more confident. He can’t believe he is in a club grinding with you at his age, but hell, this is Corroded Coffin’s night, and he will live it up.

The song went on, and Eddie's semi didn’t take long to become a full-fledged chubby. “I don’t think you understand your power over me, Angel.” You can feel Eddie’s head dipped lower, his hot breath masking your ear. The heat rose to your cheeks as he dug his hips into the flesh of your ass, really showing you what he means. Your head is spinning too much to think of a witty comeback, so you rest your head on his shoulder, pushing your hips further into Eddie's crotch.

“Do you realize what you’re doing to me, little one?” His breath is hot on your neck; you feel his lips graze over that sensitive spot, and you moan. Eddie doesn’t hear it over the loud base but knows he is riling you up. You quickly turn around to face him, surprising him with your sudden movement. You gently graze your hand up Eddie’s inner thigh to his stomach, grazing his hard cock.

“I think I have a big idea of what I’m doing to you.” It wasn’t hard to miss. You could feel how big he was through his pants. Your mouth watered at the thought of what he could do with it. Eddie pinned your hands against him.. “There you go again, teasing me.” He growled through gritted teeth. “My mouth can do a better job of teasing you than my words can.” You speak into the crook of his neck, testing the waters, and you give a small nibble, leaving a lipstick stain.

Before you knew what was happening, Eddie was pulling you back to the VIP section; tossed you your purse and pulled you out of the club doors. His grip is strong not enough to hurt but it is firm. Not another word had been spoken as you exit through the back. A black car pulls up and Eddie opens the door for you and guides you into the back seat. Dread starts to fill you, you’ve gone too far, and he wants you to leave. Why can’t you just stick to the stupid contract?

“Where, too?” the driver asks as you get in. Eddie gives the man your address, and your heart sinks; you feel the tears well in your eyes. You feel stupid for ever thinking this was more than a contractual obligation for him. Fuck, you think back about earlier in the night and remember that he had arguably the most beautiful woman on the planet before you, so why would he ever settle for you? The car door shuts like it is the final nail in the coffin. Ironic, isn’t it?

You’re so distracted, eyes blurry from fighting back tears, that you don’t see Eddie run around the other side of the car and let himself in. Your trance is broken when you hear a second door close, and you snap your head up. “What are you doing?” You try and calm your voice, not to let him see your tremble. His hands are clenched in a fist. “Taking you home.” Your shoulders sank, and not another word was said for the rest of the way home.

You get out of the car before Eddie can run around the side to open it for you; when you turn, he rolls his eyes, and your heart sinks even lower than you thought possible.

The walk from the parking lot to the elevator to your front door was dead silent. Eddie shifted uncomfortably from side to side, fist still balled up as you rode up to the 16th floor. You unlock your door, step in, and whisper a quick thank you and goodnight before Eddie stops you. “What are you doing?” He asks.

“I-well-umm-” “Don’t think you’re getting off that easy, sweetheart,” He whispers, tucking a piece of fallen hair behind your ear. It makes a shiver run down your spine. He was so close, close enough to kiss. “I’m sorry I’ve taken things too far. I overstepped your boundaries. I understand we can stop pretending now. There aren’t any more cameras.” You hold back a sniffle. “Does this feel like I’m pretending?” He glides your hand down his middle over his pants to the hard bulge between his legs; a soft gasp leaves your throat when Eddie waists no time melting his lips onto yours. He continues to kiss you as he walks you back into your apartment. He kicks the door shut and fiddles with the lock behind his back until he hears a click, not breaking contact with your lips the entire time. You melted into his touch; the taste of his lips was addicting, and you never wanted to stop kissing this man. “Eddie, what is happening?” You ask as he breaks the contact and starts to kiss down your neck, hitting that spot that made your knees buckle so hard he has to catch you. “What is happening, little one, is that you’re going to take me to your bedroom, and I will show you how you’ve been making me feel for the last five months. What will happen is that I will have my way with you, understood?” Your heart flutters. You dumbly nod your head. The moment you’ve been hoping for is finally coming to fruition.

“Now go into the room and get ready for me, I’ll be there in just a minute.” You turn and walk into your room and throw all of your clothes left out from getting ready into your closet not caring they’re tossed haphazardly, that will be a tomorrow problem. You check yourself out in your floor-length mirror and fix your hair and lift up your boobs in to corset before Eddie walks back in. You turn and think of where to go? Stay standing in the room? No, that’s awkward. Should you sit on the bed? Do you lay down? Kneel? Yes, kneel. You want to show him how good you are at listening to him.

You get down on the floor at the foot of your bed facing the door, and Eddie walks in a few seconds later, looking like the definition of sex. You can smell his intoxicating cologne as he gets closer. He’s pulled back his hair into a low bun at the nape of his neck. His button-up shirt is now unbuttoned and untucked from his tight black slacks. Your mouth waters at the signs of Eddie’s skin being exposed to you. His “dad bod,” which wasn’t really a “dad bod,” was still quite fit, not as fit was when he was in his 20s, but it was doing it for you. You notice how his chest and shoulders were filled out when he stepped closer to you, letting the shirt fall to the floor behind him. “Ohhh oh oh- Look at you, such a good girl for me,” he praised as he took a few steps closer to you. You subconsciously wiggled your hips when you heard him continue to speak. “You want to be a good girl for me, don't you?” The back of Eddie’s hand gently stroked your cheek as he looked down at you. You could see the hunger in his eyes as you looked up at him. He wants this just as much as you do, maybe even more. “Answer me, Angel.” he tilted your chin up towards him. “Yes,” you answer. “Yes, what?” His tone was firm, and it made your pussy tingle. “Yes…Sir?” You tested the waters.

“Pretty and smart.” he bends down and brings your face up to meet him halfway to kiss you; you can’t help but moan into his mouth. “Tell me you want this as much as I do; I need to know.” His chest heaved up and down with anticipation. “I’ve never wanted anyone as much as I want you in the moment,” you admit. He lets go of your face, and you sink back to your kneeling position. “Let’s see if you were all talk earlier, hmm? I’m going to put that mouth to good use.” He unbuttons and unzips his pants tantalizingly slow. You raise to your knees and pull his pants out of the way, and he lets you this time.

“You want to be my good girl, don't you?” He stroked your cheek and bit your lip. “Yes, that’s all I want.” You lean into his touch.

“Then show me, Angel” Eddie takes his throbbing cock out of his briefs, and your eyes go wide at the sight of him. What first caught your attention was that he is pierced. The silver ball sticking out of the tip was the first thing that caught your eye, not the fact that he was big, long, thick and veiny. The red tip leaking pre cum, just begging for attention. Intimidating was one way to put it. You hadn’t been with anyone in a few years. A hesitant hand gently grips his thick shaft; your hand looks tiny compared to his size, “Don’t be scared, little one. I won’t hurt you.” He looks down at you, stroking your cheek.

You tentatively kiss the tip with your glossy, red lips. Your lips catch the silver ball, and you twirl it around on your tongue. Eddie, let’s put a moan of pleasure, and it entices you to keep going. You swirl your tongue over the tip even more, taking in the metallic, briny, salty taste that was wholly Eddie. You bob your head lower to take in more of him, enjoying the weight of him on your tongue. You can feel the vein under his shaft brush against your wet lip as you slowly drag your head back. Eddie places a hand on the back of your head, and you look up at him. His eyes were glazed over with lust. Eddie could not believe he was here with you right now. “Fucking hell, Princess, you’re taking me so well.” Eddie praised. Your siren eyes looked up at him as your plump red lips swallowed him even further.

How he looks down at you makes you want to do so well for him, to be his good girl. You take him as far as your throat will let you. You breathe through it, using your hand to grip the rest of the exposed shaft. Your hand and head moved in tandem; it was messy and hot. Your smudged lipstick rubbed off on him, only making the tip look more angry.

“I need you. Bed. Now.” Eddie's strong arms lift you up by your armpits, and he tosses you onto the bed. You giggle when you land with a soft thump on your hands and knees. A strong hand grazes down your back, unzipping the designer corset top. You shimmy the straps down and top it haphazardly into the room. Eddie’s hand traces down your back to the curve of your ass. A small slap echos the quiet room, your back arches into his hand, and you let out a mmmpf. Eddie smirks as he kicks off his pants so he’s fully naked. You turn over, propping yourself on your elbows as your eyes rake him in in his entirety. His thick muscles made you feel tiny in his presence but also made you feel protected and safe with him here in front of you. You were drinking in his tattoos covering his chest and arms; he has a large snake running down his rib cage around his abs, ending just below his happy trail, which you now see for the first time.

“Take a picture, sweet thing. It'll last longer.” He smirked before crawling over you, and you rolled your eyes in return. He placed both hands beside your head as he leaned in to kiss your mouth, then moved to kiss down your neck, hitting that same spot again, making you sigh with pleasure. “Let me hear you, sweetheart,” he coos into your ear. That oh-so-familiar feeling of your throbbing in your core sends you into a frenzy. You moan out his name as he slithers down your chest.

“Prettiest set of tits I’ve ever seen,” he mumbles into the swell of your breast. You arch your back into Eddie’s mouth as his hot tongue flicks your nipple. Eddie loves that you’re so reactive to him. He latched onto your second nipple, swirling his tongue around until the little peak formed. He continued kissing down your stomach, kissing every inch until he found the hem of your skirt. “You’ve been teasing me with this all night, Angel.” He tucks his thick-ringed fingers around your skirt's waistband and rips it down your legs, taking your panties with it. You let out a small yelp at the speed at which you’re now naked.

He finally reaches where you’ve been neglected the most. He kisses your mound softly before he sits back on his heels to take you all in. “I knew you would have such a pretty little pussy. Open up for me, baby. Let me see.” His eyes felt like they were burning into your soul. You couldn’t look away as you slowly obeyed his request. You slid your knees apart, opening up for Eddie. It is like he has you in a trace; you want to do everything and anything he asks of you.

“Oh Angel, Look how beautiful you look, all spread out and ready for me. You’re such a good girl getting so wet just for me. You're all mine, aren't you?” Eddie kissed down your inner thigh, agonizingly slow until he broke contact just as he reached your dripping core. “Don’t make me ask you again, Princess. You won’t like what happens if I have to ask you again.” He warns. You rush out your answer to his question.

“Yes, Edd-” He gives you a look of warning. “Yes, Sir-” you correct yourself. “-it’s only for you OH ooooh,” Eddie latches his mouth onto your cunt without hesitation. He is a man starved, starved for 6 years, but who’s counting? It’s hard to date, never mind sleep with people as a single Dad with a younger child.

“That’s it, baby, let me hear you scream my name.” Eddie slips a thick finger into your dripping hole. “OH! Eddie! Baby, yes, just like that!” He grazes your velvety walls in a spot you didn’t know existed until this moment. Eddie continuously pumps his fingers in and out, making your eyes roll back into your head. You feel Eddie moan into your pussy. The vibrations from his mouth on your clit send you over the edge, your walls clench around his fingers, and the rush in your pussy consumes your body as all your muscles tense.

“That's it, little one, that's it, just let go, let yourself feel good.” You felt so taken care of; this is all new for you. Your past partners never looked after you like Eddie is doing. They always chased after their own orgasms, leaving you feeling used. Overwhelmed by the feeling of being taken care of, a tear escapes your lashes, and you quickly wipe it away, embarrassed that you’re crying during sex with someone for the first time. Eddie slithers his way back up to kiss you. “Don’t worry, baby, I got you,” He stroked your cheek, leaning in and giving you a head-spinning kiss. “I don’t even know why I’m crying. I liked it, I liked it a lot,” You choke back.

“You want to stop?” He cocks his head, his big brown eyes looking down at you with concern. You shake your head no. God no. “I need you to say it, baby.” He strokes a piece of hair behind your ear. “I need you, Eddie, I’ve waited so long.” You grind your hips into Eddie, and his head falls back with a groan. “You have a condom?” He asks.

You sit up and dig through your nightstand. You swore there were a few left in there somewhere. “I have an IUD,” you mention while rifling through the messy drawer. The thought of fucking you raw makes Eddie’s head spin. The feel of your velvety walls clenching down on him almost made him say fuck it. Then, reality slams on the brakes hard because the last time he did that, he ended up a single dad with no idea how to raise a kid.

“Ah ha!” your voice snaps him back from his thoughts, and he sees you wave the wrapped condom by your head. He snatches it from your hand and puts it on himself. “I’m going to make you feel so good,” He growls in your ear. “Please, Sir, I need it, I need you.” You beg as he runs his tip through your folds; the ridged metal of his cockring makes your body jerk into him. “You’re being such a good girl for me, using your words.” Eddie slowly breaks through your barrier and slides the tip into your tight hole. The burn made you tense; it had been so long, and he was much bigger than you were used to. He was halfway in, and you felt full already. Your grip on his biceps was so tight that your nails created half-moon indents in his skin. “I need you to relax, Angel. I’ll take care of you” You tried to loosen your vice grip on Eddie’s cock.

“I’m so proud of you for taking me so well, such a good girl,” Eddie spoke when he finally bottomed out. He felt you clench down on him when he spoke. He started to move his hips slowly, building up speed with each thrust, bottoming out each time.

“You like it when I talk to you, Angel? I can feel it.” You nod your head, so consumed by the feeling of Eddie taking over your whole body that you can’t speak. “Oh, what’s this? My baby can’t talk anymore? I haven’t even gotten started, and you’re already been fucked dumb, huh?” He chides.

“Please- I- keep going.” The speed at which Eddie was thrusting into you was astronomical. The hollow sound of skin slapping skin filled the emptiness of your quiet apartment. Hands latching on to one another, Eddie pins your arms above your head, lips bruising, teeth clashing, tongues at war. Legs hiked, skin hot and slick with sweat. “Your fucking cunt was made for me, fuck, you’re perfect,” Eddie praised.

There was no one else that existed at this point in time, it was you and Eddie together as one. The mind-numbing pleasure the two of you gave each other devoured your minds. He was pussy drunk, consumed by lust, want, and need. Eddie was close to his breaking point, but he had to get you there first. “You take my cock so well, Angel. Give me one more, just for me; you're doing such a good job.” Eddie praised, and once again, he could feel you clamp down on his cock. “More, please I can’t”

“Yes, you can.” Eddie flips you onto your hands and knees and thrusts back into you, once again hitting that spot you didn’t know existed. “Oh. fuck. Me. yes!” You cry out with each thrust. You could feel the build with each thrust. Eddie's hands tightly gripped your ass, bringing it down on his cock, using you to fuck him as he chased his pleaser along with yours. “Give it to me, baby I know you can tell me what you need,” Eddie gritted out.

“Touch me!” You cry. Eddie wraps a hand around your tummy and down to your clit. The connection of his rough, calloused fingers lit the string of white-hot pleasure that fuelled your body. “I can’t, it’s too much,” you cry. Your hands were gripping the bed sheets so hard your knuckles were hurting. The vibrations pulsed through you, and you had to scream into the pillow to muffle the sounds. Eddie grips your hair into his fist to pull your head back. “Don’t shy away from me now. Let me hear you.” His thrust became deeper; you didn’t even think it was possible.

“Please, please, please!” You could feel the sensation building and building, and it wasn’t going away. Eddie let go of your hair, and your head fell into the mattress. Eddie's fingers dug into your left hip so hard you’re sure there will be bruises where his fingers are. His right hand never left your clit.

“DON’T STOP PLEASE,” you beg him. He didn’t slow down. He kept pounding into you. The feeling was building more and more. It was so good that you couldn’t help it. “Come on baby, I can feel it; you’re getting tighter, cum for me.” His words broke your dam, a silent scream was caught in your throat. Your body trembled beneath him. Spasming under him as he road out your orgasm, not stopping. The feeling was so intense. You’ve never cum this hard before. It was becoming so intense that you were starting to become overstimulated. You reach back for Eddie to grab onto something, anything. You find his wrist and beg him to stop. It was too good, “please, I can’t,” you gasped. “oh, little baby, can’t take anymore. You were begging for more, and I’m giving you more.” he kept pounding into you until your third orgasm built up again. You cried out from the pleasure again as tears streamed down your face. The feeling he was giving you was so intense, so overwhelming. He finally released his fingers from your clit, and noticed it was so hot to the touch. You felt Eddie’s thrusts become more and more uneven as he shot his load into the condom.

After a few minutes of silent recovery, only the sounds of both your heavy panting and slight sniffles of you trying your best to pull yourself together, Eddie was the one who broke the silence. “Holy shit, I hope that wasn’t too much, I’m sorry if it was. I get carried away. That side of me has been locked away for so long that I- are you crying?! No baby, please. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.” Eddie was frantic. You cut him off mid-apology with a kiss to let him know they were good tears.

“Eddie stop I’m okay, I’m not hurt, I’m not upset, I just- fuck this is so embarrassing.” You hurried your face into his hard chest. “Tell me, Angel, it’s only me.” He stroked the back of your head. You let out a deep sigh and let out your confession. “No one has ever taken care of me like you did, and I don’t know what came over me. I never felt so cared for, and it was really nice. I don’t know.” Your mind was racing; this wasn’t supposed to be like this. This wasn’t supposed to be real, but it sure as hell felt real. “I’ll always be here to take care of you. That’s my job.” He kissed the top of your head. “You’re just saying that under contractual obligation.” You half joke, breaking your own heart. “Don’t say that.” Eddie pulled out from under him to look you in the eyes. “This has nothing to do with that piece of paper we signed.” He pointed between the two of you.

Your heart fluttered with anticipation. “What do you mean?” you wiped away the tear stains from your eyes. “My feelings for you were never fake, Angel.” He sighs. “What?” You sit up to get a better look at him. “Contract be damned, I care for you. I want to be with you for real.” He took your hand. “When did your feelings for me become real?” You asked. “The night we first met.” He moved in closer, noses touching. “I don’t think I can fake being in a relationship with you anymore…” Eddie's heart sank into his stomach. He knew this was taking it too far. “Somewhere along the way, my fake feelings became real for you. I want to be with you for real,” you finish.

Eddie can’t believe the words coming out of your mouth, the relief he feels, the way his heart dropped into his stomach at the thought of losing you. The thought of losing him was at the back of your mind, too; only a few more months and the contract would be up. You had to focus on your career; that was the whole point, but he made you feel like no one had ever been able to. You feel Eddie shift, and it breaks you out of your spiral.

“I’m crazy for you” Kissing you quickly before getting up, he let you know he was going to get a wet cloth to help clean the both of you up. When he padded back into the room, he not only had the towel but also brought your makeup wipes and your moisturizer from the bathroom, your heart fluttered that he remembered your conversation about how you told him to never sleep with makeup on, and no matter how drunk you’d get you always took your makeup off before bed.

“Thank you, Eddie, for everything,” you sighed. “Of course, Angel. I’ll do anything and everything for you.” he nuzzled his head into your neck, and you giggled softly as the scruff of his beard tickled you. You yawned, “Get some sleep, Baby.” he stroked your hair, and you fell asleep within seconds.

🎸𖤐𝄞💿𓆩🎧𓆪 🎸𖤐𝄞💿

“Things seem to be heating up between music royalty’s hottest new couple”

*scroll*

“Corroded Coffin’s front man-”

*scroll*

Videos of you and Eddie dancing not so PG were swarming the internet, TikTok, Instagram, and Twitter. You couldn’t escape it. In retrospect, the plan was working. However, all the attention the two of you have been receiving can’t all be positive. You had Facebook moms coming after you saying you were a slut, and a bad influence on your younger audience; you had to be a role model and not slut yourself out like some whore.

You come across more headlines: Things look more than cozy for Corroded Coffin’s notorious Eddie Munson and the up-and-coming Princess of Pop!

You huff, and a large hand emerges from under the tangled sheets and grabs your phone. “Hey!” You huff. “It’s too early for that bullshit,” he grumbles, pulling you closer.

Waking up next to Eddie made you feel safe like nothing could no longer hurt you. Neither the words nor the Karen’s of the internet could dull the light growing between you and Eddie. “Good morning to you, too,” you mumble into the crook of his neck. You left soft kisses that turned into more heated kisses on his thick neck. He let you keep going, sucking harder. You left a purple bruise in your wake. You pulled away with a not-so-convincing “oops.”

“You trying to mark me, baby, make sure everyone knows I’m taken?” Eddie rolls you on your back, and you sink into the mountain of pillows and blankets that dawn your king-size bed. You hum in agreement while nodding, “Can’t have anyone else hitting on my man.” You strain your neck up to kiss him; morning breath be damned, you need to feel his mouth on you once more. Eddie’s heart fluttered at your words. He finally had you, truly had you, and you weren’t going anywhere, contract be damned. “You’re insatiable” Eddie pulled away, cock already standing proudly; you can feel it dig into your thigh.

“I’d say you are the insatiable one, Sir” You ground your lower half up into him to create some more friction. “Ohhh you have no idea what you’ve just done little one. Eddie used his skilled hands to spread around your arousal, finding your clit in seconds. You arched into his touch

“Fuck you- you’re so good at this.” You sucked in a breathy moan. Eddie laughed to himself “Is that right baby? Is the next thing you’re going to post, get you a man who can finger pussy as good as he plays guitar” he slips his thick fingers in and curled them up hitting that spot. “EDDIE!” You half scolded him, half moaned from the feeling.

“That’s it, say my name, let the whole building know who’s fucking you” his hands were pumping in and of you at such a speed, your pussy clenched before you even knew what was happening. Eddie pulled out completely.

“Baby, no, please I was-” “Did I say you could cum” Eddie interrupted you. “No, Sir,” you shake your head. “You cum when I tell you to, got it?” “Yes, Sir,” you pout. “Don’t be a brat, wipe that pout from your face” This side of Eddie was making your pussy ache. He was so sexy, so dominant, you wanted him to take control. You needed him to take control,

“Sorry, Sir,” you apologized. “That’s better.” Eddie reached over to the bedside drawer, pulling out the last condom you had stored away. “remind me, I need to be getting about 30 more boxes of these,” he teased. Your eyes go wide at his suggestion. “I don’t think I can even walk now after last night. You’re going to have to carry me everywhere,” you laugh. “That’s the plan, Angel.” He spoke as he sunk back into you.

🎸𖤐𝄞💿𓆩🎧𓆪 🎸𖤐𝄞💿

A month into being Eddie Munson's real girlfriend, Corroded Coffin’s North American tour was starting. They have been slaving away with promotional photoshoots, rehearsals, and pushing their newest album. The feedback from their fans had been really positive; it still sounded like them but ultimately a bit more modern. They were accumulating younger fans as well. Their demographic had grown with this new release; more and more people were talking about them on social media, and videos of old shows had popped up on your feed. You were going down the rabbit hole; you couldn’t peel your eyes off all the videos of your boyfriend while on stage. The way he commanded the crowd, the way women would sneak past security and grab onto him… and he liked it. He would play into it, kissing them with full tongue, and jealousy was brewing within you, but you had to remember you were a child when all of the concert footage was taken.

Sure it happened all those years ago… but what about now? What would happen when he leaves you for the tour for the next 3 months? Long distance has not been your thing; paired with your trust issues in men, your mental state was frantic. Your past relationships were not ones to brag about.

Your Ex Charlie chipped away at your self-esteem; he had broken down your self-worth, gaslit the fuck out of you to the point that you believed in your heart of hearts that you would never be good enough to make it. You used to stay in bed for days when it was awful. The abuse you had gone through was something that you never spoke about in detail to anyone. The embarrassment you felt looking back at how much he was in control of you made you sick to your stomach.

Your internal monologue was running rampant. You had to turn it off before it was too late. You were almost in tears continuing to watch these videos of women throwing themselves at Eddie. You couldn't look away no matter how hard you tried. The way Eddie would entertain them, you dove in even further, googling old articles, old TMZ footage of him out with so many girls. There seemed to be a different one every month. The articles would explain how he was a womanizer and a playboy. He partied too much; his coke addiction was also the main topic of these articles. One he never disclosed to you.

This was bad; you were not okay. The first show is tonight. It’s kicking off in New York at MSG. You weren’t going to be there. You couldn’t handle the unknown of what he would do. Will he go back to his old ways when he is out touring again? It is so easy to fall back into old habits. Of course, women will still be throwing themselves at him, and nothing has been confirmed about your relationship in the media. He is a signalman, according to anyone who is concerned. Sure, you would be spotted together numerous times, but the paps never saw you kissing. The social media posts helped initially, but it’s been so long since you’ve posted anything, and the most the public had gotten were the videos of the two of you dancing. They probably thought you were just his little fuck-toy.

As you kept spiralling in deeper, you found that people were starting to speculate it was all a setup. You couldn’t stop the tears from welling in your eyes. The deeper you dug, the more you found. Newer articles would pop up throughout the weeks, and pictures of Eddie being spotted with a woman you did not recognize only sent you further into your spiral. You avoided his calls. You were in your head so much that you could no longer decipher reality from your own delusions about who she was and what they were doing.

Communication with Eddie over the past few weeks has been rough. He wasn't good with his phone as it is, and it wasn't aiding your intrusive demons scratching at your mind about the what-ifs?

Eddie could tell something wasn't right, that you had become distant from him. He just didn't have the time and energy. His age was catching up to him; performing and being on the road for weeks was not kind to Eddie. From all the Hotels to going back on the tour buses and staying up late, it was catching up to him. Even the band's personal trainer was having a hard time with Eddie. His health and the band members' health was her top priority. She was on top of everything they did. She was having them eat better and work out more to keep up the demanding schedule, but it was still gruelling to keep up with.

After each show, the adrenaline from the crowd died off as soon as Eddie the showers. In his heyday, he would stay up until five o'clock in the morning after some shows because he was so hyped by the crowd, or maybe that was the drugs? Whatever it was it was no longer the same for Eddie now. Exhaustion took over his body. He would sleep late, perform late and then repeat it all the next day. He missed you and Violet Rose more than anything. Life on the road can be lonely, and he would call VR every night before going on stage, no matter where he was.

Tonight was no different; they were in Montreal, Canada, about to head out when he FaceTime’d her and was really surprised to see you in the background cooking.

"Hi, Cupcake." You hear his hard voice rasp through the phone speaker. You freeze at the sound of his voice. You haven’t told him you've been coming over here every day to be with Vi. "Hi, Angel” You hear your name in a way that soothes you. You haven't had time to speak to him on the phone in a few days.

Your anxiety was consuming you. Not knowing what could be happening, you avoided speaking to him, afraid of a confession of him hooking up with a groupie or that woman you didn’t know. You were obsessed; you would scour all social media fields to find anything incriminating about him, but nothing ever came to light because nothing was happening. Eddie was swatting women and men off of him left and right; he wasn't even interested in them because they weren't you. He hasn't even had a chance to admit his feelings about missing you, but tonight, he would ensure it. He has been putting it off for too long; he needed you; he needed to speak with you. No more of this texting bullshit because that wasn't real to him.

"I'm going to call you after the show tonight, Angel." You hear him address you again. "Okay, Eds." The butterflies erupted in your stomach; you missed him so much it was starting to physically hurt, yet you were so scared of the unknown.

Unbeknownst to Eddie, you were spending the night at his house because Vi had begged you for another sleepover, and you wanted an excuse to sleep in Eddie's bed. You gave her nanny the night off when you arrived at the Munsons household. Around 10:00 p.m, you put Violet Rose to bed and ensured she brushed her teeth this time. There was a three-hour time difference between California and Montreal.

You were already tucked into his bed by 10:45 p.m. when Eddie called you your time. "Hi handsome," you answer the face time, it looks like he is lying in a hotel bed. "Hi, Sweetheart, it's so good to hear your voice." He sighed. Your worries melt the second you hear his voice. It's raspier than the hours previous; the shows were taking a toll on his vocal cords. "You should be on a vocal rest," you joke, "It's that bad, huh? You really don't want me talking to you?" He laughs. “I miss you,” it just slips out, you can’t keep the feeling down any longer, even with all of the doubts swimming in your mind because you knew in your heart that he wasn't like your ex in any capacity. You knew you were acting unhinged, you didn't want to scare him away. “I fucking miss you so much, Angel, it hurts to breathe. To know that you’re not in the crowd, that you won’t be waiting for me when I get off stage. I think I’m losing my mind.” He rubs his large hand down his face in frustration.

“I wish I was with you” You shuffle your bare arms out from under the covers “Are you in my bed?” A shit-eating grin forms on his face. “Maybe… Vi wanted to have another sleepover, who am I to deny that sweetheart?” you chide as wiggle your arms out of the covers.

“You’re killing me here, baby” he replied. “I might be naked too” It has been so long since you and Eddie last had sex. You were like rabbits when you were alone together. You had so much time to make up for, your sex life was not one to be denied.

An animalistic groan fell out of Eddie’s mouth. He was already shimming out of his pyjama pants before you could reply. “I can’t wait to have my way with you Little One.” Eddie props the phone on his nightstand and sits up to position himself in front of the phone. He is sitting there fully naked for you, his cock becoming stiffer by the second as he roughly tugs on it will one hand. “You’re so mean, teasing me like this. I want you in my mouth so bad.” You pout for him. “Fuck what a perfect pout you have, baby girl.” Eddie’s hand has slowed down, but it hasn’t stopped. His thick fingers were teasing himself in front of you and you.

“Come on baby, don’t hide from me, be a good girl. Show me.” You slowly lift the dark grey comforter off your chest, exposing yourself fully to Eddie. Your nipples were already peaked, and your pussy was already getting wet watching Eddie touch himself for you. “That’s my girl, touch yourself for me. Let me see.” You move your phone down lower so he can see you spread open for him.

You slowly work yourself up, lightly touching your clit; you dip your index and middle finger between your lips to gather up the slick to massage your precious bud. “You are already so wet for me, baby. I bet you could easily slip in your fingers for me.” Eddie’s grip never faltered. You could hear the smacking of wet skin coming from his end. “Fuck I wish you were here with me. It’s not the same. My fingers aren’t big enough.” you moan in frustration. “What are you saying, baby? No one can fuck you as good as I can? Not even yourself?” He smirks.

“Yes,” you whine out. “I’ll walk you through it. You want me to help you?” He asks. “Yes, Sir” You bite your lip. “You’re going to need both of your hands, so lean the phone on the nightstand baby.” You mimic his setup and sit on the edge of the bedside table for him. “Sucha a good girl. Now spread your legs for me, let me see all of you.” He pants. A shiver runs through you, straight to your clit when he speaks to you like this.

“First you’re going to tease yourself, I know you’re very good at that” He scoffs. “Asshole” you mumble under your breath “I know you’re not back talking me Princess.” His voice is clear and firm. “No Sir” you were being cheeky, and only because he wasn’t there to punish you. “Don’t smart mouth me” he warns. “No sir, I would never,” You say sarcastically, running your hands all over your body, showing Eddie exactly what he has been missing out on. “Fuck Angel, I thought I was supposed too in control.” He breaks for a moment.

“That’s what I want you to think, but the thing is baby… the woman is always in control” You slid one finger into your tight hole for Eddie. “Tell me, Sir, am I doing the right?” you pump your finger in and out a few times before adding a second. “Fu-uuck baby, a very good job.” Eddie gripped his cock with both hands now pumping himself, he needed to slow down if he wanted to last, but it just felt so good and you were being so so dirty for him. “You like it when I play with myself for you?” you ask moving your other hand so you could rub your clit, grinding your hips into nothing as you do so.

It dosn't take much, as a rush of pleasure rips through your body. You let a moan slip out, you were conscience that Violet Rose was just sleeping down the hall. “Yes pretty girl, let me hear those pretty sounds” He grits through his teeth. You can see one hand has moved down to play with his balls to mimic how you sucked on them. “Baby please, I want you so bad, ahhhh Eddie-fuck I-I-Eddie!” a wave of pleasure washed over your whole being, you’re coming whether Eddie allowed it or not. You collapse on your back as your body tense, forgetting for a second that you are still on the phone with Eddie.

“No, no, no baby girl come back, I need to see that pretty face, you have such a pretty face, let me see you please, I’m so close, come to me Angel” Your fog lifts slowly at the sound of Eddie’s voice begging you, calling out your name. You slowly sit back up to see and hear Eddie cuming in his hands. “Shit shit yes, take it, you’re such a good girl for me Angel” His chest heaves as he slowly comes down from his high. It is silent for a moment, to collect yourselves, before Eddie broke it.

“Why didn’t we do that sooner? The only thing I’ve been working within that picture you sent me of you in that fucking red dress” Eddie admitted. “You know porn exists…for free” You giggle. “Come on, baby! Give me a break here I’m trying to be romantic.” he wines. “There was nothing romantic about what came out of that filthy mouth of yours, rockstar” You laugh.

“Shut up” he laughs. “Maybe I can send you some more stuff to work with, and keep you tied over for the next few months.” The realization hits Eddie that he won’t be seeing you for a long time. Relationships were so hard to do while on tour but he will do everything in his power to keep you. He creates a self-reminder to send you flowers in the morning, he has been neglecting you, he knows. He needs to do better no matter how tired he is.

“Yea Angel that would be nice” He sighs. “I miss you,” you say as you snuggle back into his cozy bed. “I miss you more, I’m sorry I’ve been distant, that’s not fair to you.” He lays back down on the bed.

Those were the exact words you needed to hear from Eddie to put your mind to rest. “Yeah, I’ve been kinda driving myself insane if we are being honest.” You admit to him. “What do you mean Angel?” He questions. “Well I may have taken a deep dive into old footage of what Corroded Coffin used to get up to when you guys were on tour back in the day, and I saw some paparazzi pictures of you with that girl and I…” You avoid Edd’s eyes as you trail off.

“Oh baby, is that why you have been off? You don’t have to worry about that, I am not that guy anymore. I’ve grown up a lot since then, I don’t do drugs, I don’t party, I definitely don’t do random hookups because I’m a dad now, and I lo-like you more than you know.” he sighed.

“I’m sorry Eddie I didn’t mean to accuse you do anything, I get into my own head sometimes and my ex use to gaslight the fuck out of me to the point where I knew he was cheating but made me feel like I was going crazy. Having a healthy relationship is a new thing for me but I am working on myself, I promise.”

“I’ll do everything in my power to keep you Angel”

“Who was the girl Eddie?” you question.

“What girl?”

“She was tall, dark skin, beautiful, long curly hair, you were walking outside with her, she had a blue workout set on you were opening a door for her…”

“OH, that’s just Terra” He confirms

“Who’s Terra?” you question.

“She’s our personal trainer, we were walking into a gym with the guys. Honestly baby you have nothing to worry about, I would never cheat on you and to be honest she can be scary.”

His words were helping you settle down about everything.

“I believe you Eddie, Sweet dreams”

“Sweet dreams Angel”

🎸𖤐𝄞💿𓆩🎧𓆪 🎸𖤐𝄞💿

Corroded Coffin was in Las Vegas tonight on one of their last stops for the tour scheduled to wrap up this week. It had been a month since you admitted to Eddie your doubts, and things have been much better since that phone call. So you devised a plan to surprise Eddie by attending tonight's show. You arranged it with the rest of the band, and they were just as stoked about the surprise as much as you were!

You’d flown out mid-afternoon, and the tour manager had let you into Eddie’s hotel room to put away your stuff and get ready. His manager assured you he would be at the venue for the rest of the day until the show. You decided to show your support by wearing custom red panties with Corroded Coffin printed on the front. You slipped on the same leather skirt from the album release party and paired it with your most recent purchase of Corroded Coffin merch. The T-shirt was a little oversized, so you cropped it yourself.

After you were done getting ready, you got a ride to the venue around 6:30 p.m. so you would arrive during soundcheck. You had been escorted by the security team to the green room to wait for the band to finish. You texted your little group chat that excluded Eddie to let them know you were in place.

About fifteen minutes later, you heard footsteps approaching the door, and the butterflies in your stomach came back to life. The anticipation building and building, 3 months of not being together physically, was tough, but you both managed to make it work. Especially when Eddie started getting really into sexting. He loved sending you before pictures of his stiff cock and after pictures of himself when he finished. He loved how riled up he got you over just his words and the little videos you would send for his eyes only. He begged you to send him one of you getting off; that was his favourite to hold him over.

You could hear the starting act over the intercom speakers in the room as the latch of the doorknob clicked and the muffled voices became more precise.

“I think tonight’s crowd will be really rowdy. I just have this feeling,” Eddie says to the guys while looking over his shoulder and walking into the green room.

“Well, at least one person in the crowd will be.” You speak, and Eddie’s head whips forward. There you are standing before him, looking like his perfect little groupie. (in the best way possible)

“Angel?” He stopped in his tracks. He was in shock.

“Hi baby” you speed walk toward him, closing the gap.

Your bodies collide as you give him the biggest hug you can. Your arms wrapped around his neck, and he finally snapped out of it.

“Holy shit” he screamed with joy spinning you around

“Surprise,” you gave him a small peck.

“What are you doing here?” He puts you down.

“I came to surprise my man.” You look up at him, not wanting to let go.

“Why are you holding out on me? Gimme some sugar.” He leans in to kiss you, and you melt into him.

“Hi, Angel!” You hear Jeff greet you.

“Hey guys! Thanks for all your help. I brought you some donuts as a thank you.” You pull away from Eddie, giggling, pointing to the table.

“Fuck yea!” Felix cheered.

“Don’t tell Terra she doesn’t allow us to have sugar,” Gareth whispers.

“You guys knew?” Eddie asks

“Of course we knew; how else could she get in here?” Jeff laughs

“Enough chitchat, wanna show me your dressing room?” you whisper into his ear.

Eddie has never moved so quickly in his life. Tangled fingers lead you down the hallways into the small room designated for him and him alone. The door slam startled you as he kicked it in behind him.

Eddie didn’t spare a minute. He had you pressed against the door, kissing you deeply. Curious hands explored your body, and you gripped at his t-shirt. You kissed for what felt like an eternity. So much lost time needed to be made up for. Eddie pressed you harder into the door. He had your hands pinned above your head, his hips mindlessly grinding into you.

“This reminds me of the first time we met, Angel… how I wanted to bend you over and claim you as mine when we were in that dressing room. You were such a little tease wearing that tiny little skirt, just like this one. I could almost see your panties when you were doing those sexy dances on stage.” You moaned at his words, and he latched into your neck. His kisses were rough; you knew he would break some blood vessels. You have been so touch-starved that you managed to wiggle your hands out of his grip, begging to feel him. Your hands land on his sculpted chest as your fingers moulded into the stiff muscles, as Eddie simultaneously slips his hands lower down your body and back up to your bare thighs. His touch was leaving an electrical current as the rough calluses of his fingertips scratched your supple skin. They slowly made their way up, up, up, grazing over your dampened panties. The pool of arousal that had collected was being smeared over your lips as Eddie's four fingers ran back and forth through your folds.

"You're soaked for me, Babygirl. You got my fingers all pruned up." He pulls his hand away, and you whine at the loss of contact. You can see your arousal coating his fingers as he spreads them apart, showing your sticky liquid caught between his digits.

"I think we need to get rid of these '' Eddie takes a step back to hook his fingers on the waistband of your panties and pulls them down your legs, and you step out of them without hesitation.

A mischievous grin appeared on Eddie's face as he popped back up, holding out the sopping material before him so he could read. Corroded Coffin printed right on top of your cunt like you belonged to him.

"Oh, hohhh, hohhhh," He laughed, shaking his head, shoving them into his pocket for later. Eddie dropped to his knees before you could say anything more, his plush lips latched into your soaking cunt.

Sounds of muffled moans and grunts could be heard from the hallway behind the door, but there wasn't a care in the world for that. You both were too distracted by the fading of the music over the speakers to notice that the opening act was over.

"Yes, right there, Eddie, baby, I am so close; please, please, please don't stop," you panted as your hand gripped his hair like your life depended on it.

Just as you were about to come, the loudest bang from the other side of the door startled you so much that you let out a yelp of fright.

The vibrations of Eddie's mouth were no longer the only vibrations running throughout your body. You felt the reverberation of the door through your back as the person on the opposite side of the door pounded their fist against it.

"Come on, man, it's showtime. We have stalled enough," Gareth yelled.

With an unsatisfied sigh, you hoisted Eddied onto his feet and pulled your skirt back down.

"Sorry baby, I'll meet you after the show," he readjusted himself in his tight pants. He kissed you one last time before another startling knock rattled the door.

"I'm coming!" Eddie belted out, obviously annoyed.

“At least one of us is.” You mumbled under your breath, following.

Eddie had you situated front and centre so he could keep his eyes on you. The shows could get wild, and he knew mosh pits were always possible. He assigned Craig, the most oversized security guard they had, to pull you up and over the barricade should one break out.

It was nice being on this side of the stage for once. You'd forgotten what it was like, the anticipation of the stage lights coming to life at any minute, the strum of the guitar to warn everyone that the show was beginning.

The crowd lit up the second it happened. You cheered your little heart out as the man you adored rose from under the stage, looking like an adonis.

A single spotlight cast down on the band as the dry ice travelled across the stage. His shirtless chest adorned the strap of his beloved Warlock that has seen better days.

You noticed something tied to the end as you scanned the beloved guitar. The red fabric dangled as he strummed the first notes to the old song. Your eyes bulge as you realize what is precisely attached to the end of his guitar... Your panties, the ones you completely forgot you were no longer wearing, were upfront and centre like Eddie's little trophy, showing them off to a crowd of 40,000 people.

Eddie strutted forward to the mic; the confidence that executed off him was the sexist thing you've seen. Seeing Eddie like this in his element, you were willing to jump over the barricade and bone him right then and there.

Halfway through the show, your thighs were slick with your own arousal. Watching how his nimble fingers moved over the fret, how his body became shiny with sweat. The way Eddie commanded the crowd and the stage, he was made for this. It boggles your mind how he could leave this behind for so long. No wonder women were flinging themselves at him in the past. He looked like a god onstage, and you were ready to worship him, sacrifice your body to him.

You were so wrapped up in your thoughts that you failed to realize that the crowd around you was getting louder, girls screaming, men head banging, and people pushing because your boyfriend hopped off the stage. Someone from behind jolted you forward, and you snapped out of your daydreams. In front of you was Eddie propped up on the barricade. His guitar was behind his back, only a mic in one hand and another hand holding him up. You lock in on his sweaty abs centimetres away from your face. You didn’t think twice when you stuck your tongue out to lick them. The salty taste of sweat coats your tongue. Eddie gazed down at you with a look in his eyes that was maddening, but he kept on performing, feeding into the crowd's energy.

The lights lowered, the song got louder, and the crowd was at its peak; Eddie leaned in with all the adrenaline pumping in his veins. He didn't think twice when he bent down, gripped your chin, forced your mouth open and licked into your mouth. Then something wet and hot hit the back of your throat. A needy moan left your mouth as Eddie put the mic to your lips so the crowd could hear how he controlled you. It was the hottest thing he has done to you yet, still in your little Eddie paradise, unbeknownst to you, the whole thing was caught on the big screens. The crowd's roar grew louder as the whole scene of Eddie spitting into your mouth played out for them.

You could feel everyone's phones pointed at the two of you in your vicinity, but you didn’t care. This was your Eddie’s time to shine.

Eddie motioned for Craig to help you over the barricade; you shook your head no because, for one thing, you would flash the entire crowd, and for two, you wanted to keep watching. However, Craig did as he was told and lifted you from your armpits over his head up and over the fence and back down again before you knew what was happening. He took you and led you to the dressing room.

“Ed said that the show only has two more songs, and he didn’t want you to deal with the madness of the after-show.” He explained when opening the door for you. “Oh, thanks, Craig.” You smiled, and he closed the door behind you. He was right. There were only about 15 minutes left of the show. Disappointed that you didn’t get to see it, but you could still hear it.

To kill ten minutes, you scroll on your phone, seeing that you’ve been tagged in so many videos of Eddie eating your face in front of the thousands of people in the crowd. If anyone had doubts about the two of you before, they definitely wouldn’t anymore. Watching the video over and over again only made your pussy throb more than it had been when it actually what happening.

Another five minutes pass, and you hear the roar of the crowd die down; you decide to not waste any more time and strip down into nothing for Eddie. The seconds tick by, and your anticipation gets the best of you; you sit on the couch with a throw pillow to cover yourself just in case he isn’t alone.

The door clicked open, and your heart fluttered; Eddie walked in, alone, thankfully, and locked the door behind him. He was glowing from the sweat that clung to his body, but that didn’t bother you. You were feral, and the instinctive need for him was taking over.

Eddie stalked towards you as you stood up, removing the pillow. “Fuck baby, such a good girl already ready for me.” Eddie gripped the back of your head and pulled you into the sloppiest kiss. Your hands gripped anywhere there was skin; you needed to feel him after what seemed like the most prolonged foreplay ever. Eddie bent lower into you to deepen the kiss, but the tightness in his back says otherwise.

“Ah- fuck ow” he pops back up and grips his lower back.

“Baby what’s wrong?! You as in a panic. You asked in a panic.

“Fuck, it’s my back, babe, I went too hard on the closing number,” He winced and shook his head.

As he hobbled to the couch, you helped ease him down so he was propped up with a pillow behind him to support his back.

“I’m sorry, baby, I was really going to rock your world.” He sighed, tracing his hands up and down your outer thighs.

“Oh, that’s too bad. I’ll just have to rock yours then.” You unzip his pants and shimmy them down his legs as he winced at the jerky moment his leather pants were jostled from his sticky skin. After what seemed like an eternity, you managed to get his cock out of the tight confines of his pants. Mumbling a sorry when you heard him curse under his breath.

You place your knees on the couch straddling his lap and grip his hardened cock in your hands as you run his tip through your pussy folds. You let your head fall back at the feeling of Eddie connected to you before you skink down on his cock. He slid in easily; you've been ready for him since you stepped off the plane.

The feeling of him bare for the first time against your wet walls was intoxicating.

“Fuck me, baby, you’re so tight” Eddie was so drunk off your pussy already. He didn’t even realize this would be your first time having sex without a condom.

“Uh, you feel so good, Eds” You rode his cock up and down, building speed as the tip of his cock hit your g spot with every bounce.

Eddie took one of your hardened nipples into his mouth, sending waves of pleasure to your clit.

“You like riding my dick baby?” Eddie looks up at you as you continue bouncing like his little feral bunny.

“Yes, Sir! Feels so good,” You cry.

The feeling in your lower stomach was building, but you needed more.

“You're a greedy bunny, aren’t ya? He nips at your perked bud again, making you yell out from the sting.

“Answer me, little one.” he slaps the top of your breast, only making you grind your hips harder and faster. Your fingertips gripped his shoulders as you tried to come up with words. You feel another slap but this time on your ass.

“Yes Sir! I’m so greedy for you” You pant, your legs becoming numb, Eddie’s hands circled your plump cheeks, then gripped onto them, and he pumped you up and down on his thick cock.

“Yes! Baby, yes!” You praise.

“Fuck Angel, this tight pussy was made for me… mmpff” he threw his head back against the couch cushions.

“Baby, I’m so close.” you wine

“Fuck me too, bunny. Seeing you bounce on my big cock with your tits bouncing in my face got me feeling like a teenager, going to bust right now” his hands gripes into you tighter.

“Me too, just a little longer.” You lean your head down to kiss his mouth, then his jaw and then that place on his neck, making him thrust his hips faster and harder. The incessant smacking off skin to skin filled the empty room; Eddie moaned as he came quicker than he thought he would; he usually lasts longer than this. You kept bouncing on his cock, pumping his cum into yourself further up up up until Eddie pulled out of you and lifted your body so your dripping pussy was eye level to his face. He latched his mouth onto your clit, as you hiked one leg onto the couch's armrest so Eddie could access your sticky cunt. Your fingers only dug into Eddie’s muscular shoulders more as he played with your swollen bud. The coil was tightening, and you wanted to let go and let the euphoria wash over you.

“Baby more please” You whimpered.

Eddie’s thick fingers broke through your cum coated entrance, you could feel it dripping down your leg. That's when Eddie realized in his post-nut clarity that he came inside you for the first time. Not caring about the consequences, he just wanted to make you feel good. He could see in your face you were close; he replaced his tongue with his thumb to talk you through it. He knew you loved his mouth in more ways than one.

“Come on, pretty girl, I know you can do it. Come for me, come for your Eddie. Fuck you’re so fucking sexy. Yeah, that’s it, that’s my pretty girl. You’re getting tighter; I can feel it. I won’t let any more of this come slip out of you until you finish. “ Eddie’s magic fingers brought you to the brink, and his words made you spill over. The euphoric feeling washed over your body as you spasmed in Eddie’s lap. Your body shook like it was possessed, and you clenched your jaw so tight that not even a sound left your body as your orgasm washed through you. “Fuck baby, that must have been a big one” Eddie stroked your hair as you collapsed onto his body. “Yeah, I don’t think I've ever come that hard before,” You panted.

Eddie patted himself on the back, and you gave him a look that said what the fuck. “What?” Eddie laughed. “I did all the work!” You got up onto wobbly legs.“Oh, so that’s how it’s going to be? I swear if my back was right, you’d be over my knee, young lady.” he pointed a finger at you. “Oh, I’m soooo scared,” you laughed as you went to get a towel from the bathroom clean up. “Just because I can’t move at the moment doesn’t give you the right to act like a brat.” You could hear the amusement in Edie’s voice. “Oh yeah, come and get me, old man.” You stood a few inches out of his reach. “Not fair, babe.” He pouted and crossed his arms against his bare chest. You giggled at the sight in front of you. “Oh my poor baby,” you gave in; you would be soulless to not give into those big brown puppy dog eyes. “Yes, your poor baby!” He dramatically flung his arms around you as that was the part of his body that didn’t hurt. Laughing at his dramatics, you wrap yourself back into his lap. “You were incredible tonight, baby; I almost forgot to tell you.” You kissed his cheek. “Really? Lil old me?” He batted his eyes. “Yes, baby, I’m serious! Your stage presence, you command the crowd, you were made for this baby. I’m so happy you and the band are back doing what you should be,” you smiled. “Thank you, baby.” Eddie’s head swelled at your praises. You were everything to him, and hearing you say those words only made the love he has yet to confess to you grow stronger.

🎸𖤐𝄞💿𓆩🎧𓆪 🎸𖤐𝄞💿

The tour wrapped up just in time for the winter holidays. Your time off was split between your family on the East Coast and the Munsons on the West Coast. Your family was disappointed that you couldn't bring around your new man, but they understood the circumstances of the relationship. It was only supposed to be business as far as they knew. One night at your parent's house, cozied up by the fire, you were having a nightcap with your mom after your dad went to bed. You confided in your mom your true feelings for one another. The age gap worried her like it would any mother, but you did your best to share how much Eddie meant to you, and he meant a lot to you. The L word was looming. You tip-toed around it, trying so very hard not to admit it out loud because the consequences were disastrous. It had been on the tip of your tongue, but you suppressed those feelings because you knew in your heart things would have to end eventually, and you had to protect yourself.

New Year's Eve was spent with Eddie; he threw a party every year, and this year was the first time Violet Rose managed to stay up for the stroke of Midnight. She fought back her heavy lids and managed to make it to 12:15 a.m. before sleep took over.

The new year was filled with writing, recording, and performing music. You were asked to perform at the Grammys this year, as you were nominated as Best New Artist.

Eddie and you pulled up to the Red Carpet of the Grammys as your first official outing as a couple. It has been eight months since the contract was signed and 4 months since you and Eddie confessed your feelings for one another. Tonight was a bit nerve-racking, seeing as though this was your first red carpet, your first time being nominated, your first time being invited to the Grammys, your first time performing at the Grammys and your first official public appearance with Eddie. You stepped out of the limo after Eddie. He helped you out of the car, holding your hand the entire time. He was always dressed in black, and you wore a strapless lilac Oscar de la Renta gown that you tried so hard not to trip over.

"I got you, Angel. No need to cut off the blood flow to my hand," Eddie chuckled.

"What?- Oh, sorry" You hadn't noticed how hard you were squeezing him until you looked at both of your hands intertwined, and Eddie's fingertips were bright red from the blood pooled there.

"Breath, Angel." Eddie wrapped an arm around your waist, guiding you to the row of paparazzi lined up. Your name and his name are yelled from every direction, the flashes of light temporarily blinding you. You went through the motions as your heart rate went up, playing off your nerves to the camera as Eddie talked you down, whispering sweet nothings in your ear.

You had made it to the primary carpet all the interviewers had been at. Eddie guided you to a lady with one of the biggest smiles on her face. "Oh my god, I can't believe I have Hollywood's hottest couple here with me tonight!" She cheered. You and Eddie both said hello. "So it really is official? The dating rumours seem to be going on for months, with you two being very sneaky with no confirmation, but by the looks of it, tonight, this is the big reveal!" She pointed the mic to Eddie.

"Yeah, I can't believe I managed to swing this one, she sure is something to be putting up with me," Eddie laughed. He was such a natural at this with all his years in the limelight under his belt.

"So you are performing tonight. Has your man given you any words of wisdom, seeing as though he is an OG?" She directed the question at you.

"Well, he has definitely calmed my nerves, that's for sure. This is my first big event like this, and I'm really glad he is by my side for it. I don’t think I’d be able to be here if I was on my own.” You look up at him and continue, "He has all the confidence in me that is enough for the both of us, so having him here with me tonight makes it extra special."

"Oh em gee, love is in the air tonight! The way he is looking at you, how can you not swoon?" she flutters her hand over her face. "haha yeah..." you laugh awkwardly. That dreaded L word brought up when you and Eddie had never discussed it makes you overthink what you were doing again. "Don't make me do another one of those. I don't think I’ll survive," You whisper to Eddie as you walk away from the interviewer. Eddie barked out a laugh that caught everyone's attention. You could hear another interviewer you were walking towards. "Seems as though Hollywood's newest couple is enjoying themselves this evening. Maybe we can get a word or two?" "Come on, baby, I'll do all the talking. You just stand there and look pretty, okay?" Eddie kissed the side of your head and guided you along.

The rest of the night was a blur; your performance had gone perfectly, according to your manager, but you blacked out from all the stress of the night. You were relieved when you didn't win Best New Artist because you didn't have to go up and talk in front of everyone all over again.

Thankfully, the only thing after the show was the afterparty, and you and Eddie stayed briefly. About an hour and a half was spent mingling, and Eddie introduced you to everyone at the party, and your social battery was fried.

When you and Eddie got home, well to Eddie's home, you couldn't wait to crawl into his bed. The place you felt the safest and calmed you, the place that consumed you by all things, Eddie.

You asked Eddie to unzip your dress. It was the first thing you said to him since you got into the limo. Tonight had knocked everything out of you, and Eddie sensed something was off.

"I'm sorry again, baby, that you didn't win; let me make you feel better." He kissed across your bare shoulder and up your neck. "Baby... is it okay if we maybe don't tonight?" you turn to face him, holding your dress to your chest so it doesn't fall. "Yeah, baby? are you feeling okay?" He puts a hand on your forehead to check your temperature. "I'm fine, Eds." You giggle. "Well, something must be bothering you if you don't want any of this." He swings his hips around, pretending to thrust into you, making you laugh more. "Baby, I'm just exhausted. I promise I'm okay about not winning; I just want you to hold me?" you look up at him with that look he cannot resist. "Of course, Angel." He wraps you into his chest and kisses the top of your head. "I'm going to get out of this thing before I ruin it, and I'll be right there." You motion to the dress that was worth thousands. You crawled into bed with Eddie, fresh-faced in one of Eddie's shirts. You snuggle your head into His bare chest, and he smooths down your hair.

"You were amazing tonight, I am so proud of you. Did I tell you that?" He mumbles. "I don't remember? I blacked out for half the night." You laugh. That makes Eddie jerk up so he can look down at you. "I knew there was something off about you tonight, baby. I'm sorry" He pulled you in tighter. "I'll be ok, Eds, now that I am here with you." You drift off. "God, I love you," Eddie says under his breath as he kisses the top of your head just as sleep takes over you....

Eddie’s confession had gone unnoticed by you. The following day, he was anxious and jittery, but he blamed it on not getting a good night's sleep because his back was acting up again.

🎸𖤐𝄞💿𓆩🎧𓆪 🎸𖤐𝄞💿

Weeks passed, and Eddie never bought it up again, scared that you’re pretending you didn’t hear him to spare his feelings, but honestly, you did not hear his declaration.

Eddie planned an extravagant getaway for the two of you since your one-year mark of the contract was approaching, and he wanted to celebrate what brought the both of you together.

You were sitting in your condo’s living room watching TV with Eddie when he cleared his voice. “So, what do you say about joining me on Thursday for breakfast on the Amalfi Coast?.” He cocks his head like a curious puppy. “Ha, good one babe!” You laugh at the thought. It was already Tuesday evening. “I’m serious!” He laughs back. “Babe, what do you mean? We can’t just up and leave?” You question. “Why not? You have any major plans I don’t know about?” Eddie was getting kind of nervous that you did because if so, it would ruin everything. “Well..” You think, no, you really didn’t have anything booked, studio time, no interviews or photoshoots. In fact, your manager had called to tell you a bunch of stuff had been pushed back until the 20th… did Eddie?

“What did you do?” You look at him suspiciously. “I don’t know what you’re talking about?” He gave you a smile like the Cheshire Cat while pulling you into his lap. “Babe,” you warn him. “Angel, I took care of everything because you and I are going on a little getaway alone.” He nibbled under your ear. “Oh my god, I have to pack!” You jump up and run to your closet for your suitcases. You can hear Eddie chuckle as he follows behind you.

“Babe, can you at least let me pay you back for the ticket?” You ask as you pull into the grounds of the airport. “No, can do, babe, I didn’t buy a ticket,” he laughed. “But how are we?- Shut up!” It suddenly hit you that Eddie once told you on your first date that he has a private jet, one you haven’t seen until now. As you stare out the car window, the plane is coming into view.

The car had parked on the runway right beside his jet; Eddie jumped out first to open the door for you, a custom you have gotten used to, so you just let it happen.

“After you m’lady.” He bowed and gestured to the plane beside you.

A slight “wow” left your lips as you looked at it in awe. You climbed the steps with Eddie getting the best view of your ass as he tailed right behind you.

You walked in, and your jaw dropped. There was a cream leather couch just as you walked in by the door, another that mirrored another sofa on the opposite side, with four matching leather swivel chairs up at the front of the plane. There were cream carpets that ran throughout the interior adorned with accented black lacquered wood that ran up the walls of the plane, and across the front of the cabin was a soundproof divider that separated you from the caption and the one steward that was to travel with you.

Eddie introduced you to Charles the captain, an older gentleman probably in his mind 50’s, and Paulina, the air hostess, who was way too pretty to not be a model in your opinion.

“Mr. Munson, a pleasure as always,” she greets him, ignoring you. Oh, so that’s how it was going to be? “Paulina, was it?” You turn back to her, and you set your purse down.

She gives you a tempered smile

“How about you get us some Champagne? We are celebrating.” You wrap your hands around Eddie's waist protectively, and Eddie senses your threat. He rolls his eyes and shakes his head at your ridiculousness. “Of course.” She nods her head and walks away.

“You, Little One, have nothing to worry about.” He boops your nose before he plops down, pulling you down with him. “So you and her never?” You pout. “Never. Ever.” He nuzzles his head into the cook of your neck.

Paulina walks in and sets the tray with the champagne flutes on the crystal coffee table before you.

“Is there anything else I can get for you?” She asks cordially. “No, I don’t think we will need much this trip. I’ll ring the call bell if anything, but it should be relaxing for you.” Eddie charms her. “Sounds good, Mr. Munson.” She turns and closes the cabin door.

About half an hour into the flight, you and Eddie could take off your seatbelts, and you and Eddie got comfortable. He asked Paulina to help him make up the sofa that turned out to be a daybed and then put on a movie for the two of you to watch and have background noise while you talk.

“I was thinking… I can get you into this club I know of while on this trip… if you want.” Eddie trailed his index finger dawned with a ring with a dragon's head up your thigh. “Oh, what kind of club?” You ask with genuine curiosity. “Very exclusive; only people who are very high up get to be a part of it.” Eddie holds back a giggle. “Oh? Would this club be called the Mile High Club?” You giggle as you feel the third glass of champagne take over. “God, you’re so smart.” Eddie leaned in and kissed your lips. It was sloppy due to the alcohol so early in the morning, but you were on vacation.

Eddie pulled you into his lap so you could straddle him. He pressed his already hard length up into you and loudly moaned. “Shhhh, Baby, they will hear you.” You look over to the cabin door. “No, they won’t. It’s soundproofed; we can be as loud as we want, Baby, and I want you loud.” he kissed the column of your neck as you leaned your head back in pleasure.

“Now, be my good girl and tell me what you want? Hmm?”

“I want you to do whatever you want to me,” you breathed into his mouth, asking for another searing kiss.

Eddie placed a hand on the back of your head and guided you down so he was hovering over you as you lay on the pullout couch.

The leather squeaked beneath you as he adjusts your bodies.

“I’m going to undress you, then I’m going to kiss every inch of your body, and you are going to let me. You’re not going to rush me or beg or pout. You’re going to let me worship you. Understood?” He started by taking off your shoes.

“Yes, Sir,” you nod your head.

“Good girl,” he smiles. You feel a rush in your pussy at his words. How he looks at you, how he wants to please you, and not because you asked him to but because he wants to, is making your head spin. Never has any other man you’ve been with been this attentive to your needs.

He had you down to your underwear, the plane was cool, and goosebumps spread across your skin.

“Don’t worry, Baby. I’ll have you warmed up in no time. He grabbed an ankle and started kissing around your perfectly manicured foot. He wasn’t playing around when he said he would kiss every inch of you. He was going at an agonizingly slow pace. He made his way down your leg to your inner thigh and took off your panties. He breezed over your mound; your hips jerked up, and Eddie gave you a look of warning. “Don’t disobey me, Angel”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to; it’s just what you do to me, Baby.” You looked up at him with sorry eyes.

Eddie threw his head back and groaned. You were his succubus, his own personal vixen. He continued kissing across your other thigh, down your leg to your other ankle. The feeling of his beard and soft lips made you shiver. He tried kissing your feet, but you begged him not to because you’re so ticklish and didn’t want to accidentally kick him in the face.

“I can’t ruin that smile, Baby.” Eddie’s heart fluttered when you called him your little pet names. He leaned forward after gently putting your leg down. He kissed you from your forehead across both cheeks, getting copious giggles out of you. Your giggles subsided when he moved lower, down your neck, across your chest. He kissed over your baby pink lace bra that didn’t hide your perked nipples. You lifted your back so he could unhook your bra, and you shimmied your shoulders so you could release your arms out of the straps. Eddie looked down at you like you could give him the world. The words were on the tip of his tongue, but you pulled him by the back of the neck to kiss him, not caring about the consequences. The way he looked at you made your stomach flip. Eddie cascaded his tongue over your bottom lip, pushing his way into your mouth. Your tongues danced as his hands trailed down your body, leaving goosebumps in their wake. Lower and lower until they reach your silky folds.

“You wanna know something, Angel?” Eddie pulls back, slowly brushing over your

“What, that handsome?”

“You have the perfect lips for kissing”

“Then come back here.” You reach up to grab him, but he stops you.

“Those weren’t the lips I was talking about” He gives you a cheeky grin and then slides down your body until he is face to face with your needy cunt.

This man was too smooth with his words; you didn't need any more foreplay. He could slide in right now, and nothing would be blocking his way. You felt your wetness drip down your leg as Eddie spread you open, leaving one kiss on your pussy before he flips you onto all fours.

“Babyyyyyy” you whine while wiggling your ass in the air.

“I told you, Little One, I am kissing every inch of your body, and you’re going to take it.” He whispered in your ear, hunching over you.

He made his way up your arm, across your shoulders, and down the other arm. The goosebumps came back as he continued down your spine and across every inch of your back. You swore he’d given you 100 kisses by now, but that didn’t stop him.

“Arch for me baby, let me see you” You couldn’t see Eddie’s face, but the tone in his voice the was it went active lower letting you know he was no longer playing around.

“Yes, sir.” You arched your back and sped your legs wider so he could see, just like he had asked.

“Fuck look at you,” He whispered under his breath, and you felt his warm lips come in contact with your cool skin. You felt his soft lips kiss from the top of your tailbone and down to the fat of your ass. His teeth scraped the large muscle, and his mouth left rings of saliva that became cold once he lifted his lips from your skin. You felt his mouth moving closer to your centre, lower until you felt his two hands spread your cheeks open, giving him a small yelp, not being ready to be so exposed, especially in this well-lit plane. His warm mouth fell onto the inside of your cheek, and you gave out another yelp. No one had been so close, so intimate with you like this before.

“I told you, baby, I’m worshipping every inch” You didn’t have time to think before you felt his mouth on your puckered hole.

“Oh my god” you gasped as arousal shot through you.

“Anyone ever plays with this little hole” Eddie kissed you again before a strong hand came down on your ass cheek, making you moan.

“No, Sir” you sucked in a breath.

“What a shame, she’s real pretty” he circled a wet finger around your asshole and your pussy cliched around nothing.

“Would you like me to continue?” He whispered in your ear.

“I did tell you to do whatever you want to me,” you countered back.

“But do you want it?” Eddie grabbed your chin and made you look up as he hovered behind you.

“Yes!” You cry

“Yes. What?” He gritted through his teeth because you should know better.

“Yes, sir, play with my asshole.”

“God, I love when you talk dirty” Eddie slid down your body and licked a long wet strip from your clit to your second hole. A breathy sound of pleasure rips from your lungs, one so loud you even startled yourself. “That's it, baby, let me hear you.” Eddie lapped and circled you so good your eyes were rolling into the back of your head. You never thought you would be into this, but it was Eddie; he made you feel safe, and you liked it when he showed you new things in the bedroom.

His tongue glided across and around your tight hole, as his thick fingers penetrated your pussy. “Doing alright, sweetheart?” He checked in, but you were too zoned out, lost in your own pleasure, you didn’t hear him. Moan after moan left your mouth, not even able to form words.

“I’ll take that as a yes” He smirked before he dove back in, this time his tongue broke its way through your tight walls. Before you knew it, you were coming. The combination of Eddie's fingers and tongue fucking you made your walls tighten, and a roar came from your lungs. “That's it, Princess.” Eddie removed his wet fingers covered with your spend and circled them around your other hole.

“Hollyshit” you breathed out.

“I’m not finished with you yet.” Eddie pulled you back by your hair, sticking his tongue in your mouth. By far the filthiest thing he’s ever done to you, but you were already begging him to do it again. “Please, please, give it to me.” he drops your head from his hand, and your face softly falls onto the cushion. “Such a filthily girl. You want me to split open your pussy with my cock while I finger fuck your ass?” He spoke while taking off the rest of his clothing.

“Please,” you begged.

“My girl is greedy, but what my girl wants, she gets” You felt the couch shift as he knelt down to align himself with your needy pussy. He spreads your lips to get a full view of himself slowly entering your wet hole.

Eddie pumped into you slowly, picking up the pace with each stroke. He spread your ass cheeks open to expose your two holes. You hear him spit as hot saliva cascades down your hole.

“You sure you want this sweetheart?” He grazed his finger over your hole, getting it ready for him. “God! Yes, Eddie! Please!” His cock was hitting your G spot perfectly; with each stroke, you could feel the hot metal of his piercing rubbing your inner walls but needed something more to get you to the edge.

Eddie let it slide that you didn’t call him Sir because he was too damn excited that you let him play with your ass. “Fuck yea, Princess.” He slips his wet thumb into your puckered hole. It surprisingly felt good. Honestly, you were prepared for it to hurt, but the added pressure made your head spin.

“Who does this ass being too?” He gritted, slapping his hips into you, his cock so deep inside that you see stars. If you turned your head to look over your shoulder, you would have seen Eddie’s body glow with sweat, flushed face and a look in his eye that would’ve convinced you he was so madly in love with you. But you never did, too consumed by how Eddie made you feel. The way he fed you the pleasure you always craved, the pleasure you always needed but never received until now.

More moans filled the room, unable to answer. All of your senses were on overdrive. “Huh, baby girl? I didn’t quite hear you?” he slowed down, making you feel every inch of him leave your body and then slammed back into you. “You! Oh god, my body is yours!” You bury your face into the couch cushion. “That's right, Little One, you’re mine.” Eddie pulls you back up with one strong arm and fixes your body to parallel his.

“But if you’re mine. Then I am yours. Tell me I’m yours,” he panted.

“Fuck Eddie, you’re all mine, mine, mine, mine,” you chant your mantra until your walls spasm around his cock, your orgasm cascading through your whole body, your limbs struggle to hold you up as you try to hold yourself up. Eddie continues to thrust into your throbbing cunt until he is so close he pulls out again, being reckless and “forgetting” to put on a condom. He pulls out, and you hear the lewd sound of wet skin smacking as pumped his load on your ass. You feel the hot streams of cum coat your skin.

“Shit, that’s a pretty picture. Don’t you dare move” Eddie grabs his phone off the table and snaps a picture of you with your ass in the air, fucked out of your mind with his cum running down your crack.

“This is going to hold me over for a long time” Eddie laughs

🎸𖤐𝄞💿𓆩🎧𓆪 🎸𖤐𝄞💿

The car pulled up to a villa right on the edge of the water. You could hear the crystal blue sea water splashing the rocky coastal line. You could smell the salt in the air, the sea breeze was cool on your skin, and the hot sun beamed down in the cloudless sky. The concrete building was painted a terracotta that was slowly failing but only added to the vintage flair.

“Welcome home, Baby” Eddie kissed the top of your head and led you inside.

The large wooden door creaked open, and you entered the most beautiful home you’ve ever seen. “This house is yours?” You asked, “No baby, ours,” he corrects. “Not what I meant, Eddie; I meant you own this place?” You reiterated. “Yes, Angel.” he pulled you in closer, put your bags down and kissed you.

You didn’t even get a chance to look around before you and Eddie jump one another’s bones again… On the sofa, the porch daybed, the kitchen counter, the shower, and the bedroom. It was a miracle you convinced Eddie to get out of bed and show you around. Wrapped up in the crisp sheets, which remained black even in this home with this distinctly Italian decor.

You reminded him he promised to take you to that Café on your first date. “Eddie, you promised me the best pastry in the whole world, we have been here 34 hours, and I still haven’t experienced it” you pout.

Eddie’s propped up on an elbow, giving you a look.

“What?” You ask innocently.

“Just looking at you makes me so horny” Eddie leans into you, pushing you into the plush pillows that adorn the bed, he was an addict, and you were the fix, the only one that could cure his hunger.

Eventually, you had gotten Eddie out of bed and into the Italian streets. Your days were filled with walking hand in hand. He took you to the Café first. They did, in fact, have the best croissant you had ever tasted and the best Caffe latte you ever had. Eddie and you strolled through every shop you said you wanted to go into, buying a bunch of trinkets and gelato. He took you to the beach the next day, and the day after that, you toured around the city some more; he booked a cooking class where you were taught how to make homemade pasta. The next day, you went on a winery tour. There was so much to discover and so much history to see; the week was jam-packed with things to do, and you never felt so free. Being here with Eddie in another country where no paparazzi was hounding you every moment of every day. You kept your socials quiet, not wanting to tell anyone where you were. Having it just be you and Eddie was a dream. Not that you didn’t miss Vi, but the break was needed.

You only had 2 days left of your trip. Tonight, Eddie cooked for you. It was one of the most romantic evenings you two shared. He had put out candles on the dining room table, had music on in the background, and asked you to dance with him on the balcony under the stars, and now you were standing in a moonlit room in front of a floor-length mirror, naked.

Still fully clothed, Eddie walked up behind you, and his hand slowly grazed your shoulder, up across your collarbone, and then he teasingly wrapped one finger at a time around your throat. He jerks your head to the side so he can speak to you. You can feel his hot breath on your ear as he says, “Look at you. America, Sweetheart, getting all wet and sticky just for me. Are you going to let me touch you, Princess? fuck that sweet little cunt of yours?” You desperately try and nod your head, but Eddie’s grip is firm. “Use your words,” he growls in your ear.

“Yes Sir” you sighed.

“God, no one makes me as horny as you do,” he growls in your ear.

Eddie leans closer, his other hand not on your throat, wraps around your waist, pulling you into him as he pushes his stiff cock into your lower back. He moves in to kiss you, and goosebumps appear all over your body as his lips connect to the supple skin of your neck. It’s more gentle than what you're expecting. His hand slides down from your waist, leaving your throat to cup your breast.

“Look at yourself while I touch you,” Eddie whispers. You don’t dare disobey his orders tonight; something about tonight is different: you want to be good for him no matter what. He has been so good to you. All you want is to be that for him in return. So you turn your head and look at where his fingers connect with your skin. His calloused tips are rough on your breast's soft, delicate skin. The pads of his fingers cascade through your wet folds, and you try so hard for your knees not to buckle at the sight you’re witnessing.

“That’s my pretty girl. You’re so good to me.” He slowly circled your clit as you continued to watch. You tried so hard to not fall to your knees. Your hands find his muscular thighs, and you drip onto them for dear life. You let out a breathy moan as Eddie sucked on your neck, hitting that sweet spot he is good at locating on the first try. You finally broke and turned so you could be face to face. You needed to kiss him like you needed air to breathe.

Eddie grabbed onto your bare ass and hoisted you up. You wrapped your legs around his thick torso, and he walked the two of you over to the bed as you left a trail of kisses down his neck.

Eddie ever so gently laid you down on the bed like you were made of glass. You watched him from the bed as he stripped down into nothing, missing his touch the entire time he was away. “Baby I need you,” reach out for him.

“I know Angel, I’m right here. I gotcha.” he crawled on top of you.

You were right; something about tonight was different between the both of you; the dynamic wasn’t raw and animalistic. It was soft and delicate. Eddie crawled on top of you and slowly slid himself into you. The execution was effortless. Your slick canal was more than ready to take him. He kissed you and kissed you, and kissed you. Eddie kissed you all over. No words were being spoken. The only sound that filled the room was the sound of skin-on-skin and illegible moans of pleasure. No words needed to be spoken, not anymore. Not tonight. You and Eddie both knew that tonight was about making love. He was soft and gentle, 180 from where you two usually went in the bedroom, but this is what you needed, the missing puzzle piece finally being found. Eddie’s hands intertwined with your own; considering all of the intimate things you had done thus far, this moment takes the cake. He was gazing into your eyes, and his cock brushed the walls of your pussy. Each thrust had meaning behind it. Each time he leaned in to kiss, you meant something, something more than you would ever have the pleasure of knowing. You felt love, even if he hadn’t said anything; you knew deep, deep down this was his way of showing you how much you meant to him. To take care of you, to be there for you… and the same goes for him, even if you don’t know it. You being there for Violet Rose and being there for Eddie also made you the missing puzzle piece to his life.

“Eddie, baby, I’m close” You broke the silence and tucked his wild main behind his ears.

Eddie smiled and brought his hand down between your bodies so he could massage your clit, knowing how much you loved when he played with the bundle of nerves. Only a few circles do it for you until your body is jerking under Eddie’s.

“That’s my girl, fuck yes, that’s it. Just like that, come for me, Angel.” he kept thrusting as the orgasm took over your body.

The feeling of his head hitting the top of your cunt as your pussy clamps down on his cock like a vice has Eddie following not far behind. He tried to pull out before he came, but when you begged him to come inside you. Who was he to deny the women he loves? He’s only but a man, a man blinded by your magical pussy that was sucking him back in.

“Fuck baby, you want my babies, you want me to get you all round and pregnant. You want my cum that bad.” He whispered.

All you could do was nod and pull his body closer to you, not ever wanting him to leave.

“Fuck” Eddies thrusts became less uniform and sloppy as he came, releasing his seed inside you.

Eddie pulled out a few seconds later. you were at a loss, but you had to clean yourself up, so you tried getting up, but Eddie stopped you.

“Where are you going?”

“To the bathroom, I have to you know” suddenly feeling shy.

“No, you stay here. I’ll go.”

“But I feel it leaking already” you giggle

Eddie hopped out of bed and ran to the master bathroom; you couldn’t help but check out his little tush as it glowed in the moonlight.

Not even 30 seconds later he was back with a damp towel helping you clean up. “I, um, I hope you know about the baby thing… It was just um, I uh.” He cleared his throat.

“It’s okay, I have an IUD remember.” You roll over to face him. “Okay, good, right. But never can be too careful,” he clarified.

“It was um in the moment, I liked it” You shuffle your body so you're resting your head on his bare chest.

“I’m always careful, but somehow, you know how to make my brain mush.” He laughs.

“I guess I have that effect on people.” You tilt your head up to kiss his neck.

“Fuck Angel, I don’t know if I can go again,” he sighed.

“ M’sorry baby, you’re just so sexy” You hum in his ear.

Eddie turned his head and lifted your chin so he could kiss you. You melted back into the bedsheets, feeling the best you’d ever felt.

“We should go to sleep, baby. I have a big have a big day planned for us tomorrow."

“Okay, goodnight baby” you sigh as he gives you one last goodnight kiss.

The following day, you woke up with dread coursing through your veins. Wide awake, laying in bed, your head cleared, you realized the mistake you had made last night. The bond between you and Eddie was too woven, too tight. It will kill you to break it, but you had to, and now you ruined everything.

You were spaced out the rest of the day; you hardly realized you had been outside walking by the water. "I have something special planned for us." Eddie took your hand as you walked through the ancient cobblestone streets, snapping you out of your daze.

Your heart sank, this was all becoming too much, but you played it off, not wanting to crush Eddie's heart, so you sucked it up and gave him a smile.

You could see a single yacht docked at the end as you approached the water's edge. As you approached, it was lit with hundreds of tiny fairy lights. You could see red and white balloons and many flowers. Assorted wildflowers mixed with purple roses and... poppies. A nod to the nickname his daughter gave you. Your heart was racing; you couldn't bear to do this to him. You couldn't let him go through with whatever romantic gesture he had planned. Halfway up the ramp, you stopped, and Eddie had tugged on your arm, thinking you were still trekking along behind him.

"What is it, Angel? Are you scared of boats?" He looked concerned, not thinking about that option when he had planned that night.

"No, uh, it isn't that." You fought back the crack in your voice.

"Then come on, I have to show you something." He said with a smile tugging your arm again, but your feet were planted. Refusing to go any further.

"Eddie. I can't," you whisper.

"Sure, you can come on." He was oblivious to your inner turmoil.

"I can't do this," you shook your head, fighting back the tears.

Eddie's face went from happy school boy to concerned father instantly.

"Baby, what's wrong? Talk to me." he rested both hands on your shoulders, looking down at you with a furrowed brow.

"I need to go. I can't be here." The panic in your voice broke.

"You're scaring me angel, what is wrong?” you didn't think the look of concern could get any more profound, but it did.

You didn't answer him; you turned and walked off the ramp and back down the dock onto the cobbled streets.

Eddie chased after you, not letting you go by yourself in an unfamiliar city alone at night.

"Baby, wait!" you didn't look back. You just kept running. You no longer were able to hold back your tears. The crying turned into sobs. You could hardly see where you had been going before Eddie caught up with you, placing a hand on your shoulder to bring you around to face him.

Your sobs mixed with your panting from running, made you need to catch your breath before you could speak.

"Don't make me do this," You sobbed into him.

Eddie stroked the back of your head, trying to console you; he was confused but more frightened than anything. He didn't understand what made you run? What had he done wrong? Was it the boat?

"Let's get you inside" He guided you down a few more streets, and you caught your breath as you approached the doors to Eddie's home.

Eddie sat you down and went to fetch you a glass of water

"You need to talk to me, Angel. What is going on?" He squatted in front of you, placing both hands on each knee for you to look at him.

"Eddie, we can't do this, this is too real! We took things too far. I don't know what to do? How can we keep doing this when we know how this will end?" you rambled.

"Angel, who says it has to end?" He needed clarification.

"We both signed that contract. You know we can't keep this up forever. We only have one week left before this is all over!" You raised your voice because now you were frustrated. What was he not understanding?

"Who cares about the contract?!" he yelled back, now frustrated.

Eddie had never yelled at you before; never once had he raised his voice at you in the past year.

“I care! My whole career depended on this stupid arrangement!” You yell.

“Oh, that's really all this was to you?! A Stupid arrangement? I’m just a way to get you to the top, huh?” Eddie was hurt. His words came out laced with venom.

“Fuck! No, not anymore! That isn’t want I meant!” You reach your hands out to Eddie, but he flinches away.

“But it's what you said!” He pointed.

“God, Eddie! That’s not what I meant! How we feel no longer matters; we can’t go on!” You cried.

“How could it not matter?!” He stood up and started pacing.

“Because it just can’t! You screamed.

“Yes, I can because guess what? I AM IN LOVE WITH YOU!” Eddie shouts back.

Your heart stops beating, your head starts spinning. Eddie loves you. That's what this date was about; he would profess his love for you...but it’s too late. All of this is too much. You should have kept things professional. It was supposed to be easy. No heartbreaks, no feelings, no getting attached. Simple. It was supposed to be simple!

“None of that matters...” you whisper with a solemn sniffle.

“Doesn’t matter?! How could this not matter?! You’re my world!” your real name fell out of his mouth. Not once in this year had Eddie even muttered your actual name. Your heart breaks into a million shards of glass ripping through your chest. He fell to his knees, kneeling in front of you.

“We can’t be together! This wasn’t supposed to happen!” you stand up off the couch and continue, “We can’t be together, okay! What don’t you understand? We HAVE to break up, Eddie. The contract is over; it's finished. We are finished.” you started pacing the room, you can't look at him, you refuse to look at him. You think you'll be sick if you glance in his direction.

Eddie’s heart was literally cracking into two pieces, how could you be saying these things to him? Why was this happening now? He was going to ask you tonight, he had everything planned… and now you’re breaking up with him? Because of a contract?

“How can you say that? After everything we have been through!” he belted, feeling betrayed.

“The contract says so! My career says so.” You were beyond frustrated and hurt, but this had to be done because legally, it needed to happen.

“Angel, please.” He took a step towards you with his arms reaching out.

“Eddie. Don’t.” you took a step back. Eddie winced as if he had physically been burned.

“I can’t believe you’re throwing all we had away.” He shook his head, refusing to look at you. “There is nothing we can do! We both signed the contract. You knew this day was coming! I don’t understand why I’m the bad guy?!” you pleaded.

“You think I gave two shits about what that piece of paper says? Do you think I read anything it said when I had a dream girl placed in my lap! Do you think I read that?! NO, I didn’t, not when I would be with you!" He tested the waters, taking another step forward, but you took another step back.

“Eddie, please, no. Tell me you knew that we had to break up… please.” you cried.

“Of course not! I don’t care about it. I love you, why don't you understand?!” He pleaded.

“I care! I can’t fuck up my career, don’t you get that?!” You could pull your hair out.

"So that's it? Just like that, we are done? You stand there, and you can look me in the eye and say your career is more important to you than our relationship? That's what all of this is about for you this whole time? I know you love me, and you won't say it back!" Eddie threw his pointer finger at you.

"That's not what I'm saying. You mean everything to me!" Your nose was running, and the streams of mascara and eyeliner cascaded down your cheeks.

"Then why are we fighting?!" Eddie's voice carried more than he knew. You winced at his tone.

You can't handle it when people yell at you. It only makes you cry more.

"Because I can't allow myself to love you." You shake your head in defeat.

"Baby, please don't do this to us. I can't live without you; Violet Rose needs you. I can't picture a life without you in it.” That little red velvet box felt like fifty pounds in his jacket pocket right now.

“So because you say so, that's it? This is the end?" Eddie pinched his brow bone.

“It's not me who decides, Eddie... We both signed a deal..." you seethed.

"Fine," just like that, he turned and stormed out of the front door.

🎸𖤐𝄞💿𓆩🎧𓆪 🎸𖤐𝄞💿

You stood in the grand room with nothing but regret and sorrow to keep you company. You didn't eat, and you didn't sleep much over the next twenty-four hours.

You don't know how long you stood there before your body collapsed from exhaustion. You didn't know your catatonic state would last you a few days. You didn't know how you ended up at the airport, and you don't know how you got on the airplane back to L.A.

You didn't know that that would be your last time seeing Eddie.

You needed to fix this. You called Roger when you finally snapped out of the trance a few days later, but it was too late.

"The story is already out to Princess. It is being streamed on TMZ, People Magazine, and ETalk... There isn't anything we can do. Why do you want to keep it going?" He asked, confused. Knowing he would have cut it shorter, you never disclosed the truth to Roger.

“Never mind, Roger, I guess that’s it then.” You hung up without saying goodbye, no longer able to fight back your sobs.

That was it; the story was out, and you were curled up in bed for days. When the crying finally stopped you were more like a zombie, sleeping, waking up, then sleeping again. Anything to avoid life, you did. You just went through the motions.

Your phone and TV had been off after your phone call with Roger. You decided to turn your phone back on, with the thought of your mom freaking out from not hearing from you in a few days crossed your mind.

The first notification you get as soon as it turns on…“Hollywood's most beloved couple call it quits.”

The reality of your actions came crashing into you like a Mack Truck. You would never hear his laugh, never be able to hold him, never be able to help VR with her homework again. You would never be able to feel complete. So that was it; what’s done is done. You could do nothing to reverse the damage you brought to Eddie’s life. You just hoped that one day he would have it in his heart to forgive you, to understand why you did what you did… because you are in love with him, and you always will be.

~end~

Thank you for taking the time to read 💜 comments, reblogs and likes are always appreciated and encouraged ! 🫶🏻

Tagging some moots and ppl who asked to be tagged : @rip-quizilla @munsonology @ali-r3n @callsignraver @changemunson @allthingsjoeq @ceriseheaven @xxhellfiregirlxx @amira0303 @mmunson86 @lofaewrites @taintedcigs @take-everything-you-can @lokis-army-77 @hellfiremunsonn @hellfire--cult @hellfirenacht @oneforthemunny @lma1986 @mimsie95 @straykeeks @crazycat-ladys-blog @purplehazed-h

#SO GOOD STINK #U HURT ME IN THE END BUT OMG #IM SO EXCITED FOR PART TWO

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