#rockstar!eddie x you

[eddiesxangel]

That’s that me, Espresso | rockstar!eddie

@mmunson86 requested: I can’t stop thinking about rockstar!Eddie x pop!Princess! reader! & its all thanks to miss SC & Espresso! Imagine they are at one of her concerts right right & she has Eddie sit in the middle of the stage! she is about to debut this song its the last song for the night and she dances on him , for him , around him & Eddie is loosing his mind so right after the concert he wastes no time and takes her into the dressing room & the rest well you know the rest 🙂‍↔️💗

Cw: modern au, Rockstar!Eddie x Pop!princes wife reader. Age gap, Eddie is a filthy simp for his girl, soft!Dom Eddie (sir), oral (f receiving), p in v (unprotected), small bit of anal fingering. Talks of pregnancy.

2.3kwords

We are back baby!!! From the Wildflower universe, if you want more of the lore on these two.

“You ready, Angel?” Your husband smiles at you.

Husband, it still has a nice ring to it. You’ve been married just under a year. Giving birth to your little one put the wedding on the back burner, but you started the wedding planning once Lila Rose was 7 months old.

“Yeah, I think so,” you smile. You’re already in your hair and makeup, just waiting for your turn to get on stage.

The rowdy crowd of music festival goers grow impatient as the crew tirelessly works to remove the previous acts' set design.

“You think they’re going to like the new song?” You fiddle with the bedazzled mic in your hands.

“You kidding me? They’re going to love it!”

Eddie always encouraged your work, even if it wasn’t his thing. He loved every song because it was yours.

“All performers take their mark,” you hear the stage director in your ear.

You give Eddie one quick kiss and make your way to the stage.

The set went perfectly, but the riding anticipation of the new single was still in the back of your mind.

“Okay, Coachella! I’m going to need you to help me out with something.” You smile. “This is my last song of the night, and it’s brand new, so I’m a bit nervous.” You pace the stage.

“Now I have a special someone backstage with me, and I know he won’t come out unless we pressure him, so I’m going to need your help, okay?” you walk over to side stage and look him in the eye

You knew he would kill you, but you needed him for the extra moral support, and you kinda had a plan up your sleeve.

“Come on out, Eddie, baby,” you smile, and the crow starts to chant Eddie’s name.

Feeling embarrassed and a bit proud of you for getting what you wanted. Eddie stocks onto the stage, giving a small wave, not wanting this to be about him.

“Sit,” you speak into the mic and point to the fold-out chair in centre stage.

Eddie sits, and before he can protest anymore, he hears the first few beats of the music.

“Nice,” you sing in your breathy tone your husband can’t get enough of.

Now he's thinkin' 'bout me every night, oh Is it that sweet? I guess so Say you can't sleep, baby, I know That's that me, espresso Move it up, down, left, right, oh Switch it up like Nintendo

Eddie really loved that last lyric. He thought it was very clever of you because he knew it was about him and how he eats you out.

Say you can't sleep, baby, I know That's that me, espresso.

You and your dancers moved to the beat without missing a step.

I can't relate to desperation My 'give a fucks' are on vacation And I got this one boy

You turn to your husband and wink.

And he won't stop calling

You take a few short steps around to the back of the chair.

When they act this way

You lean in from behind and run your free hand down his shoulder to his chest and back up.

I know I got 'em

You swear you hear him moan.

I'm working late 'cause I'm a singer

You twirl your hair around your finger, then summon Eddie to come closer.

Oh, he looks so cute wrapped around my finger

He gets up and follows you like a puppy as you strut across the stage. My twisted humor, make him laugh so often My honey bee, come and get this pollen.

You flick up the edge of your mini skirt, and Eddie can see the lacy underwear beneath your stockings.

He needs this song to be over so he can finally have you. You've been rehearsing for this moment for months now. Stressing over it and with the baby, you and him have had hardly any time to have sex like you used to.

He's thinkin' 'bout me every night, oh Is it that sweet? I guess so Say you can't sleep, baby, I know That's that me, espresso Move it up, down, left, right, oh Switch it up like Nintendo Say you can't sleep, baby, I know That's that me, espresso

Eddie is back in his seat by the second bridge, and your dancing is driving him absolutely crazy. You know what you are doing. He can see it in your eyes; your mischievous gaze tells him you had this all planned out. You probably faked being nervous just to get him out here so you could seduce him.

Eddie was losing the battle of not getting hard in front of the thousands of fans watching. He couldn't help it; his bombshell of a wife was so irresistible.

Is it that sweet? I guess so That's that me, espresso

Eddie listened as you thanked the crowd. He took your hand and yanked you off stage once he thought it had been enough time for your final bow, letting you soak in this moment before he whisked you away.

“Eddie!” You squeal while trying to keep up with him in your platform go-go boots.

“Gotta have, you know,” he growls in your ear so only you can hear.

“Really baby? I worked you up that much?” You swoon.

After all this time, Eddie still makes your heart flutter. You never thought soulmates existed, but when you met Eddie, all that changed- especially after having his baby. The way he was with your newborn had you wanting to jump his bones before the doctor okayed you for sex again.

The trailer was close but not close enough in Eddie’s eyes. A thin sheen of sweat was starting to form on Eddie’s brow, and he couldn’t tell if it was from the hot Californian sun or the fact that his cock was about to bust through his jeans, and he was trying not to have anyone notice.

“Get out,” Eddie commands as the trailer door swings back. Eddie opens it so hard.

Your team looks startled as you and Eddie enter the small space.

You give them an apologetic look and they place down their stuff and leave you both alone.

“You were perfect up there.” he pulls you in for a kiss. “So fucking proud of you.” He kisses down your neck.

“Mmmm, thank you, baby”

“You’re a goddamn succubus, you know that, Angel?” Eddie shuts the door behind them and locks it before drawing the blinds.

“Is that right? Mr. Munson.”

“Oh, it is, Mrs. Munson.” Eddie pulls you in by the waist for a heated kiss. Still, after all this time, you both were so greedy for one another. Nothing can ever break the bond between the both of you… not again.

“God, Angel, you were a goddamn tease on that stage; you got me looking like a simp.”

You pull back, curious as to where he had heard that term.

“Simp?”

“VR tells me things.” Violet Rose, Eddie's oldest, whom you’ve adopted, is now twenty two.

“Okay, old man,” you giggle, and he walks you back to the sofa in the trailer’s back corner.

“Enough talking, more kissing.”

Your tailored dress, made just for you, was not easy to strip. Eddie was having a hell of a time trying to get out of it, only to groan when he saw your pantyhose as another barrier.

“Why do they make these things so tight.” He grumbles as you giggle at him.

“You weren’t complaining about it ten minutes ago,” you snide.

“Don’t make me put you over my knee.” He smirks.

“No, Sir,” you put your lip.

Finally, once you are out of your garments, Eddie kneels right between your legs.

“Baby, you’re going to hurt your knees,” You push his long hair back. “Why don’t we go -OH - to the couch” Not listening, his lips are already on your throbbing cunt.

The plus from your clit was relieved as Eddie’s tongue grazes it before quickly lapping and flicking at it.

“Oh fuck!” Your legs buckle, and your grip on Eddie’s hair tightens. He growls at the pain in his scalp, but he loves it all the same.

You feel his tongue go down, then to the left, then the right and finally circles your clit.

“Mmmmm, tastes so good, Angel”

“Please don’t stop!”

You feel Eddie's skilled tongue glide through your slick folds before you feel his hands nudge your legs, signalling to open them wider.

Eddie’s thick long fingers pump up into your warm wet cunt until you’re losing the battle to say upright. Your body is hunched over as Eddie sends waves of pleasure through you.

“Mmmm, that’s it, that’s my good girl. Cum for me.” The pads of his fingers graze you g spot each time. He doesn’t stop until he knows you are satisfied.

“That was a big one, baby; singing for me, go, you all worked up, didn’t it?” He stands and leads you to the couch until you’re lying down, legs spread nice and wide for him.

“Mmmhmmm,” you hum as you watch Eddie finally strip.

His body never looked better; he wants to be the healthiest to watch your baby grow up and maybe put another one in you soon.

“You ready for me, sweetheart?”

“Yes, sir, more than ready.” And it was true; it’s been a few weeks since you’ve had time to have sex, and it was long overdue.

All the pent-up sexual tension between the both of you is finally being released when Eddie's hard cock slides into yours effortlessly.

“Fuck I missed my pussy, baby girl.” His head tilts back, and you take the opportunity to suck on his neck, just as you know he likes it.

“So fucking beautiful” his cock pumped in and quickly backed out.

The tip of his dick ring never failed to make you see stars. Already you’re a moaning mess for him, cock drunk, and it’s not even been a minute yet.

“There she is, there’s my good girl” Eddie palms your tit as he continues to thrust deep inside of you. He watches your eyes roll to the back of your head, blissed out by how he makes you feel.

“More” you moan.

“More what?”

“Sir, please, I need you. Baby, I love you. I love you, please, I need it.” You babble.

Eddie's heart swells. He loves you so much he would give you the moon and stars if he could. Hearing you love him, especially when the two of you are like this, really makes him kick into high gear.

He will never take for granted those three words when you say them to him; your past is too painful not to.

“Tell me what you need, baby girl.”

“Fill me.” You pull him down into a kiss. Your tongue explores his mouth.

His hand that was planted on your waist is now travelling lower to your ass.

“This what you wanted, baby? All of your holes filled?” His finger teases your puckered hole.

“Yes!” You gasp.

“I think that can be arranged. Suck” he points his finger at your face, and you take as much of it in your mouth. You suck on it until it’s dripping with your saliva.

“Such a dirty girl, letting me fuck you and play with your ass hole.” His finger slowly glides in, and he pumps it to match the rhythm of his thrusts. “Isn’t that right?”

“Yes, sir!”

“God, I love you.” Eddie can’t help but to fuck you frivolously. The sound of wet skin slapping together filled the thin walls of the trailer.

“Please, please, please.” You were so close you could feel the pit building.

The pressure of his piercing brushing your g spot with every heavy thrust, each shape snap of his hips making him slide deep inside-mixed with the pressure of his finger pressed deep inside of you was bringing you to the edge of bliss.

“You going to come when I tell you to, Angel?”

“I can’t-can’t hold it!”

“Yes, you can,” he growls.

“F-fuck,” you curse him. You can’t hold it for much longer.

“Mmm, that’s right, babygirl. You’re going to listen to what I tell you.”

Your pussy naturally grips Eddie's cock so tight he almost loses it.

“Please, Sir. I want to cum. Please!”

The look in your eyes has Eddie reeling. The way you beg and submit to him, his perfect girl. His perfect wife, the perfect mother to his children.

“Cum” he growls, and you let out a cry of relief.

With your arms wrapped around the back of Eddie's neck, you pull him down into you on instinct. His body weight pressed into you, and your cunt grips his cock so deliciously Eddie is coming with you.

“Shit, baby girl, I think you nearly killed me that time,” Eddie chuckles as his legs give out and his total weight collapses on top of you.

You giggle dumbly as Eddie plants kisses all over your face.

You look up; his face is red and sweaty, but he’s never looked more beautiful.

“That was long overdue.” You sigh with relief.

“You’re telling me,” he chuckles with you.” “Let’s get you cleaned up, mama.”

“You trying to knock me up, Munson?” Deep down, you’d love to have another baby.

“What if I was?” He looks back over his shoulder, catching you checking out his juicy ass.

“Then I’d say we should keep practicing.”

“Wait for real?”

“You’re no,t getting any younger, “ you giggle.

“Oh, you little minx, you’re in for it.” He runs back towards you, lifts you off the couch, and plops you in his lap.

“I’m sorry!” You laugh as Eddie tickles your sides.

“You really want to start trying?” He asks genuinely.

“Yeah,” you nod.

“Guess it’s time for round two, gotta make sure it really sticks.”

Tags: @xxbimbobunnyxx @eddiesghxst @niallerlover8022 @eddiesguitarskills @all-dogs-die

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@callsignraver @allthingsjoeq @ceriseheaven @amira0303 @mmunson86

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[munsonsmixtapes]

I Can Help With That

rockstar!Eddie x bestie!fem!virgin!reader

summary: Eddie catches you reading fanfiction about him and decides to let your experience the real thing

cw: MDNI (18+) smut (p in v) fingering, oral (f receiving)

not proofread!

It wasn’t a secret that you had a huge crush on your best friend Eddie. You had been in love with him since you were kids and everyone knew. Well, everyone except Eddie, but he wasn’t exactly the most observant so you couldn’t blame him.

And you didn’t want him to know anyway. That was something you were going totally take to your grave. The whole thing was just so embarrassing for you and he definitely wasn’t the commitment kind of guy anyway. He usually just fucked women and let them leave, not wanting any attachment to them.

You supposed you couldn’t blame him since he was always traveling and didn’t have time for a relationship. And hey, the guy was only human. What was he supposed to do? Be surrounded by a bunch of beautiful women and not sleep with them when they offered?

You honestly weren’t sure how you came across it. You were just browsing the internet, looking to read about someone else when his name popped up. You were curious to say the least. You had no idea that people even wrote about Eddie in that way and thought it was hilarious, so obviously, you had to read it.

Then it got to the point where you were reading it every day, trying to find the best one to show him. What started out as a joke actually became not as much when you were actually enjoying what you were reading. You started imagining what it would have been like to actually be with him and it was getting out of hand.

You sat at your computer, another fanfiction pulled up and this one was different from the others. It wasn’t no longer soft and sweet. It was dirty. It was sexual with everything described on the page. You had read that kind of stuff before, but not about Eddie. Not about your best friend.

You were really getting into when you heard the door to your room open. You quickly minimized the page and turned to Eddie who looked almost unreal like always. With his leather jacket over his white t-shirt which was tucked into a pair of very ripped jeans that gave you a perfect view of his perfect thighs that you desperately wanted to get your hands on.

“What were you doing?” He asked, suspicious and you just put on a smile, trying to play it off.

“Nothing,” you shrugged, but Eddie just made a beeline for you. He spun your chair around and moved his hand to the mouse but you got there quicker, closing out the page completely.

“Oh, you silly girl,” he laughed. “You seemed to have forgotten that I can see your browser history.” He reached for the mouse and you grabbed it, holding it out of his reach as you rolled your chair away, the back of it eventually hitting the wall.

Eddie stepped over to you, resting his hands on the arm rests as he leaned so close to you that you could smell his breath. He looked like he was leaning in and you closed your eyes in anticipation only to open them and find Eddie at the computer, opening the last tab you had opened. You rolled your chair over, accepting defeat as you covered your face in embarrassment.

Eddie was a little shocked when he opened the page, but honestly wasn’t surprised. You read smut all the time. But wait a minute, was that his name? There it was again! You were reading smut about him? Since when?

“Why are you reading fanfiction about me?” The question wasn’t accusatory, more curious than anything.

“I was going to read about someone else, but then I saw your name and got curious. And then I was so determined to find one to read to you, but none of them seemed good enough.” Eddie knew he should’ve been weirded out, but he honestly just thought it was funny.

“So you’ve read these before?” He turned his face back towards the screen to read a little more.

“Yes,” you nodded. “But none like this, though.”

“Right,” he winked. “Of course not. But you like these though, huh?”

“I mean, I don’t know.” You did. Maybe a little too much.

“Do they get you hot?” His question caught you off guard, making you blush.

“What?”

“I bet they make you wet, huh?” How did he know that? It was as if he was psychic.

“Well-”

“Relax, babe. I’m just kidding.” You let out a sigh of relief. You’d die of embarrassment if he had actually been asking you that.

“Oh.”

“Unless they do actually make you wet.” You were so embarrassed that you didn’t know what to do with yourself.

“Um, maybe a little.” He just chuckled and leaned forward so his lips were right by your ear.

“Sweetheart, if you wanted to do this kind of stuff with me, all you had to do was ask.” His tone was teasing, but there was a hint of truth to his words.

“Really?” You didn’t quite believe him.

“Sure. Why read it when you have the real thing right here?”

“Eddie, this isn’t funny. If you’re going to make fun of me, I’d rather you just leave.”

“I’m not making fun of you. I’d love to give you the real thing if you’d let me.” He was being serious. He was actually offering to have sex with you and actually seemed enthusiastic about it. Was this all just some very real dream you had entered?

“You would?”

“If you want to.”

“I don’t know,” you shook your head. “I’ve just-I’ve never done anything before,” you reminded him and he just nodded.

“That’s okay. We don’t have to.” He stood up, but you grabbed his hand, preventing him from leaving.

“Please fuck me!” Your words came out much more needy than you intended and Eddie just looked at you with wide eyes before a smile broke out on his face.

“As long as you’re sure.”

“I’m sure,” you nodded.

“And you can back out at any point.”

“I know.” He bent over the chair, his hands gripping the arm rests again. His face was so close to yours that you could make out every single detail. God, he was beautiful.

“Can I kiss you?” He whispered and you nodded.

“Yes,” you responded, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth. Eddie reached up and pulled your lip from your teeth with his thumb and let it settle back into place before, leaning in, pressing a featherlight peck to your lips before pulling away.

“What was that?”

“Relax,” he laughed. “I’m just warming you up.” He leaned in again and pressed another peck to your lips. Another. Another until he slotted his lips between yours, capturing them in the softest, sweetest kiss.

Assuming that he was uncomfortable leaning over like that, you stood up from the chair and wrapped your arms around his neck before going in for another kiss. It was like none you had ever experienced before. It was like he put full thought into each one, trying to figure out what you liked and what you didn’t.

His arms wrapped around your waist as his tongue licked along the seam of your lips. You opened up and he slid his tongue inside, letting it swirl around yours. It felt so good and you were surprised that you were already aroused when he hadn’t even done anything.

A sound that was foreign to you escaped your mouth and you pulled away, bringing your hand up to your lips to cover them in embarrassment. Eddie just laughed and pulled your hand away.

“There’s not need to be embarrassed, sweetheart,” he assured you. “Make as much noise as you want. In fact, I’d prefer it.” When you still looked unsure, he continued. “I’m serious,” he pecked your lips once more. “Be as loud as you want. There’s no such thing as being too loud.”

“So, you want me to make the noise again?”

“I’d actually prefer it.” With that, Eddie’s lips were on yours again and he took no time to stick his tongue into your mouth, swirling it around yours. You didn’t hold back that time, letting the moan fully escape your lips and felt Eddie’s boner against you as he pulled you closer.

His hands traveled down your back and slowly moved up your hoodie as he tested the waters to see if it was okay. Once you didn’t say anything, his hands moved up even more to your bra that he realized wasn’t there. The idea of you not wearing one made him even more hard and he decided that he needed to see your tits for himself.

He slowly lifted the bottom of your hoodie and you lifted your arms up so he had so trouble removing it. He let out a gasp as your hoodie hit the floor as he took in your naked upper half. He had really been missing out. God, you were so fucking perfect.

“Christ. You’ve been hiding these from me all this time?” He reached up to touch them, taking them in his hands before giving them a squeeze.

“Well, it’s not exactly normal to show your best friend your tits, is it?”

“And yet, here we are,” he smirked.

“Eddie, our friendship has never been normal.”

“That’s true. But seriously, you’re so fucking hot.”

“I know,” you nodded and it made him even more hard knowing that you were so confident in yourself. Soon, his lips were back on yours again, this time more rough as he took what he wanted from you.

His thumbs moved your nipples in a circular motion and you let out a moan at the foreign feeling.

“Feels so good, Eds,” you told him and he continued, wanting to hear more of those pretty sounds fall from your lips. His lips moved to your neck as he slowly laid you down on the bed, removing his jacket and shirt as he did so.

He attached his lips to yours once again, this kiss slow and sloven, as if he had all the time in the world, and you supposed he did. He brought your bottom lip between his and gave it a little suck, causing you to let out a whimper and you to get even more wet. Once he realized you liked it, he did it again, harder that time before taking it between his teeth and biting down gently.

“Fuck,” you moaned. “More.” He bit down even harder and you let out your loudest moan. As he bit and sucked your lip, his hand traveled down to your sweatpants. He slowly stuck his hand down the front of them, on the hunt for your pussy.

Once he found it, Eddie’s fingers lightly grazed it, warming you up for the main event. He slowly stuck two fingers inside of you and your back arched in pleasure, your eyes closing tight.

He pumped his fingers in and out of you, the only sounds that could be heard were your moans and the squelching of your slick as he moved his fingers in and out of your cunt. You were already experiencing more pleasure than you ever had and he hadn’t even fucked you yet.

“You like that, hon?” He asked as he pumped a little faster.

“So good, don’t stop.” He hooked his finger and found just the right spot, causing your legs to stretch out at the pleasure.

“Oh my god, Eddie, I think I’m gonna-”

Just as you said the words, you reached your first climax, screaming his name as you did so. Eddie removed his fingers from you and you sat up just in time to watch him slowly lick your slick from his fingers.

“Fuck,” he moaned. “Taste so good, sweetheart.”

“You can have another,” you told him, your confidence building.

“You let me finger you and now you’re going to let me eat you out? Well, sugar. It must just be my lucky day.” Eddie lowered himself onto his knees on the floor at the edge of the bed and grabbed you by the ankles, pulling you with him.

With your permission, he pulled down your pants and let out a dramatic gasp at the wet patch on your underwear. He then removed those as well and spread your legs, licking his lips at the sight of your sopping wet cunt.

“You did all of this for me?” He gasped. “Sugar, you shouldn’t have.” He draped a leg over each shoulder and pressed open mouthed kisses to your thighs, not wanting them to feel left out before he inhaled your scent, desperate for a taste. “You look good enough to eat and I’m starving.”

Eddie let his nose brush your cunt as he dove in and you let out a gasp, gripping the comforter underneath you as you got used to the foreign feeling. He then slowly licked a stripe from your slit to your clit, eliciting a whine from you.

“Oh, my god,” you moaned and Eddie pulled away for a second, just so he could speak to you.

“Taste so fucking good, sweetheart,” he groaned his voice all raspy, making you even more wet. “Swear I could do this all day.” He went in for more and licked and sucked as your back arched in pleasure, his fingers digging into your thighs as he lapped up every single bit of your slick.

His teeth grazed just the right spot and you swore that your vision went hazy at the pure euphoria you were experiencing. Was it always like that or was Eddie just that good? You were pretty sure it was the latter.

Your thighs pressed against his head as Eddie stuck his tongue fully inside you and your hands moved to his hair as you reached yet another orgasm, but he wasn’t done just yet.

His tongue swirled around your cunt and you yanked on his hair in reaction to the feeling. You hadn’t experienced anything like it and were sure that you definitely wanted him to do it again. It was too good to just pretend like it didn’t happen.

“Fuck,” you whined. “Right there.” He hit just the right spot to make a mewl fall from your lips and you fell back onto the mattress as you came down from your climax. Eddie gave your cunt one last lick before pulling his face away, the entire thing soaked in your slick, but he didn’t care. He’d be happy to lick it all up just to get another taste of you.

“God, could eat you for hours, baby. You taste heavenly.”

“Need your cock,” you said through labored breaths and Eddie was surprised. He thought you’d need a little break before you were ready.

“Baby, we just-”

“Eddie,” you said through grit teeth. “I need you now.”

“Alright, alright,” he pulled a condom from his wallet and quickly removed his jeans and underwear before rolling the thing onto his cock. He then lined himself up with your cunt and slowly inserted himself, both of you letting out moans at the sensation.

Eddie slowly thrusted into you since it was your first time and as good as it felt, you needed more. He wasn’t moving fast or harder enough.

“Harder,” you told him and he kept going slow, unsure of that was the right move for you. He didn’t want to hurt you, especially not on your first time.

“Are you sure?”

“Very fucking sure. Fuck me hard.” With that, Eddie pounded into you and you mewled in reaction.

“Oh,” you moaned. “Oh my god-fuck.”

“That’s it, honey,” Eddie responded. “Look at you, taking me so well. Look like a fucking princess underneath me.”

He continued to pound into you and the moans that left your mouth were enough to make him the hardest he had ever been. None of the other women he had fucked had been nearly as responsive to his moves as you had. You ate up every single thing and he loved that about you. That you took whatever he gave you and was nothing but grateful for it.

“Fuck, feel so good, princess,” he moaned, grabbing the onto your legs and wrapping them around his waist so he had more access to your pussy.

He thrusted and thrusted, eventually moving the fastest and hardest he could and that seemed to satisfy you. In return, Eddie was eating up all of your reactions, loving to hear your moans, desperate to have a recording of them because of how lovely they sounded.

Once you both reached your climaxes, Eddie pulled out of you and made you go pee while he disposed of the condom. He then joined you in the bathroom and the two of you got into the bed, not even bothering to put your clothes back on.

Eddie laid next to you and pulled you to him, bare skin to bare skin and pushed some your baby hairs off of your sweaty forehead. He then pressed a kiss to it and moved all the way down until he got to your lips, pulling you in for a sweet kiss.

He then pressed his forehead to yours, his brown eyes boring into yours. His hand moved leisurely up and down your arm and he licked his lips before he spoke.

“What if I told you that I wanted to do that more often?”

“I’d totally let you.” If it was anything like you had just experienced, you’d let do it anytime he wanted.

“Well, what if I told you that I wanted you to be the only person that I slept with?”

“Like a friends with benefits kind of thing?” What ever he was suggesting, you were down for.

“No, more like a boyfriend-girlfriend kind of thing.”

“I’d love that.” You rolled on top of Eddie and peppered his face in kisses while he let out numerous giggles. You then pulled him in for a kiss that left him breathless to solidify your relationship status. The first of many that night and for the rest of your lives.

[eddiernunson]

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

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

Warnings: Older Rockstar!Eddie, Harrington!Reader (Steve’s daughter), use of excessive nicknames, no use of y/n, ambiguous ending, smut

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

Word Count: 6.8k

This is the last chapter so…enjoy! Thanks for reading! Sorry for the delayed posting today! Parenthood is kicking my ass.

Chapter 6

You hesitantly accept his offer, getting up to sober up a little and grab a bathing suit as Eddie comes from behind you, hands grabbing your shoulders and resting his chin on one of them as he asks, “Where are you going?”

“Grabbing a bathing suit,” you answer, gulping at his stubble pressed directly against your cheek.

“Don’t think so,” Eddie jerks his head, not giving you a moment to wonder what he meant before you hit the icy cold depths of your pool, hearing Eddie also hit the water as you went under.

“Jesus!” You cry as you hit the surface, wiping your face from the water that got into your eyes. “Warn a girl!”

“We were going into the pool anyway, we got towels, where’s the fun in that?” Eddie asks, starting to swim circles around you.

“You could’ve at least let me take my shorts off, they are already falling off my legs,” you whine, grabbing the pair from below the waters’ surface around your shin to throw on the pool’s edge.

Eddie scoffs, attempting not to leer to your underwear under the water, wondering if the pool’s liquid had made it see through, or what kind you were wearing. It occurs to him he hadn't thought this impromptu swim very well through.

He swims to the edge to take another drink of his beer, offering you one as well when you pout to your beer still sitting by the dwindling fire. “Alright, I bet…” he trails off, his eyes shining mischievously, “I could beat you to the other end of the pool,” Eddie announces, already starting the race.

“Hey, it’s not fair if you’ve already started!” You huff, quickly starting some breast strokes right behind him.

He beats you by mere seconds, grinning at you cheekily when your face lifts from the water. “You got a head start,” you pout, splashing him childishly.

He splashes you right back at twice the force, a tidal wave completely drowning your head. “You’re just a sore loser.”

“Alright, then, one two three go!” You launch yourself off the wall, giggling when Eddie gives the same attitude towards your unfair headstart as you did to his.

Somehow, he manages to get ahead, out of breath as you reach the surface but grinning stupid all the same, proud of his besting you once again. “Cheaters never prosper.”

“Yeah, or you just have better lungs and longer legs, Munson,” you sneer, not letting him be too proud of his second win.

“Better lungs? Prove it. Wanna test it?” He teases, his eyelashes dripping with the chlorine water but not paying any mind how it drips into his eyes.

“By what, by seeing who can hold your breath under water the longest?” you joke, giggling when he nods in all seriousness.

You agree to it, but just as you could’ve predicted, he wins all three tries. He shrugs, saying something about you must’ve been right about his singer’s lungs.

You usually don’t take losing so well, a competitive streak from having three siblings who all succeeded in almost everything they did, but you were getting so much joy from your adventure in the water with him you forgot to be sour.

“You talk a big talk, but I could beat you in math any day, Munson,” you jeer, internally panicking when it doesn’t affect him in the slightest.

“Oh yeah? Well math ain’t gonna help you here, sweetheart.” He lurches forward, initiating a chase that sends a thrill up your spine, immediately turning away and freaking out when you hear his splashes grow closer and closer.

The pool wall ended up being much closer than you had expected, turning around to him nearly colliding with you from the full force of his momentum. He’s breathing heavily, his bare chest after complaining about his shirt dragging him down pale in the blue night lights, two hands right next to your shoulders on the tiles. He licks his lips, a playful grin still on his face yet slowly fades.

Your shirt has also dragged you down, having taken it off and throwing it just a few feet from where your shorts lie. Your underwear does little to hide what it’s meant to, two thin fabrics between you and the wall. You recall when you considered putting on a bathing suit after your shower earlier but thought it would be silly.

Now all of that seems silly.

The music, now faint, still carries on in the background as Eddie nor you move from the spots, the space between your chests seemingly smaller and smaller.

You’ve held back from this tantalizing temptation so many times, you’ve lost track. You don’t have the strength to hold back any more, so you don’t. You finally take a bite of the damn apple, whether or not there’s hell to pay for it.

Your legs wrap around his waist, tugging him in as you finally press your lips to his gorgeous pink ones. Eddie immediately tenses up, going stiff as a rod. Your first instinct is that you’ve obviously made a blunder, misreading all the signs and were waiting for the humiliation to start, for his apologies to bumble out.

When you attempt to let go and apologize profusely, he cuts you off, pinning your back against the pool as his hands work their way up your body, restless and careless until they stay still on your ass, rough and commanding as you feel his boner right on your desperate heat. His lips against yours take complete control, one hand landing on your cheek as he opens his mouth just a little bit more to allow your tongues collide, beers and smores and musk and watermelons and oh fuck he’s a good kisser.

His stubble collides with your cheek and burns in the best way, drinking in every moment as he kisses you slow but desperately, not wanting to waste a single second after burning for it, his lips on yours.

“Do you know what you do to me, you beautiful little tease?” He mutters, rutting himself as if to demonstrate what he meant.

“I have an idea,” you smirk, gasping the smile away as soon as the boner collides again, harder.

“Do you? Do you know that everytime I see you in a new slutty little outfit I get fucking hard? Every small action you make, taking joints out from your fucking bra, licking jam off your hand,” he ruts again swallowing a whimper that leaves your mouth, “the fucking ice cream, fuck, it is torture just being near you.”

Your legs cling onto him, heels digging into his thighs as one hand wedges itself between your panties and your hip, toying with the thin fabric, his hand roughly digging into the doughy skin of your thigh. “Tell me more,” you plead, chasing his full lips as they messily plant kisses all down your neck, teeth scraping against your skin while his nose nuzzles it, taking deep inhales on his trek.

“God, baby, everything about you had me ready to mark you as mine, I just needed you so fucking bad it drove me insane. Did you need me too? I-I fucking know the answer, but I need to hear it, you need me too, right?” He borderline begs, his voice gone from rough and aggressive to needy almost instantaneously.

“I-I need you, Eddie, I really, really need you,” you answer him in full honesty, overwhelmed by the force of vulnerability that rushes through you like a gust of wind.

The only thing that you can call what comes out of him next is a whimper, his brown eyes searching both of yours rapidly as his hand tightens on your bare hip. “Say it again?”

“Say what again?” you frown, your face close enough to his that the only thing that passes through it are the loud gasps in the quiet of the night. Even with the music still playing in the background, it really only feels as its you and him alone in the world.

“Say my name?” He licks his lips right before scattering kisses all along your collarbone, sucking and nibbling weaved with little whimpers, his wet hair brushing against your chin in the meantime.

You smile, not having noticed the subconscious attempt at distancing yourself. Referring to him as Eddie, even in place of Munson, feels too personal, too real. If he’s Eddie, he’s on your level. Attainable.

Something you have told yourself all weekend that he is anything but.

Your mouth opens to give him exactly what he wanted, but you decide against it at the very last second, “Make me,” husking out instead.

The breathy, seductive tone took him aback, his brow scrunching for just a fraction of a second until a change cascades over his face. Half of his open mouth quirks itself upward, and it’s dark out, the sun having said its final goodbyes, but his brown doe eyes darken as he collects himself. “Make you, hmm? S’that my pretty girl asking me to make her moan my name?”

You nod, out of focus but staring up at him through your lashes all the same, arching your back when he takes you by surprise as he gropes the soft skin of your ass.

“You have been a very good girl, I suppose,” he hums, as if still considering your offer, like he wasn’t just begging for it only moments ago.

You could argue against that, but you won’t if he’s offering you this leeway. “Mmhm,” you nod eagerly, your breaths growing shorter and faster biting your lip in anticipation.

“Alright, then be my good girl and say please,” Eddie mutters, landing one hand next to you on the pool tiles.

“Please,” spills out your lips before you even process it, your legs slowly wafering through the water as he remains still, his lips and hand once all over you now a simple tease in comparison to the touch he finally granted you.

“Please?” Eddie mutters, tilting his head in false curiosity. “Please, what, baby?”

“Please, please t-touch me,” it ‘s so simple, so delicate yet so intimate, crossing a boundary the both of you tried so hard to refrain from. “Want you to please make me moan your name with your fingers, Please.”

“See?” Eddie’s hands start again, hand on the tiles slotting itself on your cheek, the other abruptly slotting itself on your heat. “See, I knew you were a good girl.”

Just his touch alone sends a jolt up your system, a hot flash of lightning as your body jolts up weightlessly held up by his support but mostly the water. He watches you, his jaw dropping as his fingers start moving with purpose as the searing pleasure overwhelms and electrifies your nerves, starting to gasp out little mewls for him no more than two minutes after they started their pattern.

You leant in to kiss him but he keeps your forehead glued to his, turning away from your quivering bottom lip when you lean in again. “No, I know, I just wanna watch your pretty fucking face fall apart for me,” he whispers, his eyes raking across your increasingly ruined form. “Jesus your pussy is so fucking wet f’me. Did checking me out really get you this hot n’ bothered, baby?”

Your eyes start to close, fading out as that similar heat starts to build low in your stomach, as slow as his circles on your clit are, the impending orgasm is rushing at you in a record speed.

Your eyes jolt open as he shoves a long digit in as he barks out, “Nuh-uh.” You’re even more weightless as you practically float on his finger, jaw dropped as his actions have completely halted. “Keep those pretty eyes open and on me, got it?”

“Okay,” you whimper, clenching around the digit three knuckles deep.

“Good, good,” Eddie mutters, slowly moving his finger, watching your face carefully. “Jesus, you’re tight,” he bites out, adding a second finger without any warning. You sob through a little moan, the skin of his shoulders dimpling around your nails as they dug into it.

Slowly your moans have gotten louder, the temptation to allow your eyes to flutter closed fizzling at your vision but you push through it, bobbing up and down in the water in sync with his arm, giving your weight completely to him.

Your tongue laps across your bottom lip easily into a bite, still watching his face with his eyes on yours, what was just half a grin now spread into a manic smile. “You’re being so fucking good for me, sweetheart, just like you have all weekend. You take my fingers so well, can’t wait to see how you fucking take my cock.”

A whimper gasps through your lips, spasming around his fingers at his deliciously filthy words. “Fuck–Eddie–p-please–”

“See, making you moan my name wasn’t so hard,” Eddie whispers right as he leans in to capture your lips in his. His thumb starts rotating on your clit, quickly flooding you with an orgasm that you weren’t even aware you were that close to.

Eddie’s lips muffle the cry that otherwise would’ve been heard by the entire neighborhood, a shout of pure ecstasy that has you writhing up against his strong chest.

Your lips let go of his in a gasping breath, your lip trembling your elbows dig into the delicate skin between his ear and shoulder, pulling him closer as you bore into those big brown eyes. They’re as dark as the night sky yet they shine just as bright as the stars.

Smile lines and dimples are present as he stares up at you, his thumb still rotating slowly and fully responsible for the shaking of your poor thighs. His fingers are still in you, nestled and happy as he feels you flutter around them.

“You,” he drawls, slowly moving his fingers, “are radiant,” you can barely focus on the next kiss he seeks from you, your thighs clinging onto his hips, the momentum building even quicker and hotter than before.

“Oh m’god,” you whimper, throwing all your weight on one forearm as you suddenly have to get his fingers out, its too-too fucking much. “Ed–fuck!”

“You can take it,” he mumbles, one arm across your back as he peppers wet sloppy kisses along your collarbone. “Right? You can handle one more little orgasm.”

You buck into his hips as a silent confirmation, the splashing water around your forms loud from all your thrashing.

The kisses along your collarbone have moved south, the sudden scrape of his teeth against the curve of your breast a welcome shock as he starts to peel back the soaked fabric now glued to your skin like latex. “Look at these fuckin’ perfect tits,” Eddie growls, his hand movements turned sloppy as he wraps his tongue around the peaked nipple.

The added sensation clouds your head, bucking against him and practically sobbing into little whines while he perfectly works you like he already knows you.

“That’s it, fuck yourself on my fingers, you look so good like this, baby,” the praise lights your body ablaze, clutching onto him tighter.

Oddly enough the thing to send you over the edge again was a long lick up your sternum, an image you’ve seen time and time again on the edge of his guitar. Stars crash into your vision, knocking you senseless as you tug him in for a kiss, more teeth than lips as your legs shake but the giggles bubble out from your chest.

“Just one more?” He smirks, adding, Jesus, a third fucking finger.

“Eddie–” you startle, choking on your own oxygen.

“I really need to repay you,” he mutters, starting back on your jawline.

“Repay me?” You manage out, choking back a near shout when he curls his fingers just so.

He nods, focusing a toxic mix of his tongue and teeth against your racing pulse. “Mmhm. Repay you for every little time you managed to make me rock hard.”

“Huh?”

“Don’t worry.” he laughs, gnawing down your shoulder line. “I couldn’t repay you for every time, you’d be here for hours. And we both just found out how quick I can make you cum.”

You gulp, barely able to think through any of what he had just told you. “I-huh?”

“Jus’ one more, baby? Jus’ one more after being relentlessly teased by those fucking thighs of yours? Your pretty tits? That chokable neck–baby fuck you really make me fucking crazy–” his voice has somehow gone from commanding back to whining, his voice drowning in pure, needy, wanting.

“You are–” you start, cut off by a kiss he throws in as he becomes restless in his motions, “you are going to be the–” you giggle as he kisses you again, nipping at your bottom lip. “Ah–the end of me.”

“You fuckin’ like it, don’t you?” He laughs, one hand spread on the back of your neck as his eyes remain on yours. “You love how much my fingers can ruin you.”

“Your–your voice,” you choke out, eyes rolling into the back of your head. “Your voice does a lot-a lot a lot-of the work.”

He chuckles darkly, curling his fingers against your g-spot impossible harder, an impossible fire somehow hurling through your pussy still submerged in the pool. “I think I know why Hell’s Angels is your favorite album, hmm? It is a very carnal album.”

You giggle, somehow more cognitive. “My number one most played on Spotify.”

Eddie huffs out a chorus of laughter, leaning down to lick a wide fat stripe up your neck. “That is so fucking hot to me.” You shiver, blinded by the roll of ecstasy that just ran through you. “Would you believe I am just as obsessed with you?”

“It-it’s a high bar,” you admit, peeling your other arm out of its bra strap to completely expose yourself.

“Oh my god you’re fucking adorable,” Eddie hums, nibbling all down your chin, his lips seemingly unable to rest as they roam around you. “Now fucking cum for me so we can get out of this pool and I can finally fuck you.”

Something that’s only been possible under perfect circumstances while bonding with a vibrator occurs, you squirt all over his hand following a sudden heat that boils in your skin and acts like an anchor in your body weighing you down. The weightlessness water usually brings to you has disappeared swiftly, clinging onto him as he peels his fingers from where they sat still nestled as they finished working you through it.

He reciprocates the tight hug you give him, strong arms holding you close to his chest as your legs still spasm and quake.

“That’s my good girl,” he whispers encouragingly, gently petting your dampened hair. “C’mere, I’m gonna see if I–” he grunts, the muggy air engulfing you whole as he lifts you up onto the edge of the pool as if you weighed nothing, winking playfully as he lifts himself out.

“Ok, you obviously lift,” you mumble, being tugged by his hands and escorted into the house, leaving only the still lit embers of the pit and the scattered ingredients and clothes behind.

He chuckles, momentarily squeezing you as he wraps his arms and clasps them together in front of your torso. “Please, you weigh nothing.”

He stays like that every step on the cement to your house, playfully nipping at your neck, tickling it with his deep breaths until you reach the threshold of the double doors. Eddie lets go of you, watching your ass for a moment, your hand yanked by his hand in yours as he leans against the island kitchen counter.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he doesn’t give you a chance to respond, tilting your head as he lays a wet one on you.

“U-upstairs–” you sigh as he interrupts you again, magical, only the smell of beer left over but his lips so nice and plump.

“I don’t think so,” he mumbles, working his other arm around your torso to single handedly undo the bra clasp. It falls from your chest,Eddie eagerly kneading his hand on your left tit, two fingers playing with the nipple as you sigh into his mouth.

A whimper passes through your lips, gyrating your hips against his needily as you crave more friction despite your greedy cunt still soaked from its three releases. “Well then hurry up,” you huff, starting to play with the band of his boxers. “Can’t wait much longer.”

Your panties are yanked down, landing on the floor with a wet plop. Eddie lifts you effortlessly onto the counter, working his tented fabric against you roughly, watching your jaw drop as he rolls his hips against yours. “Please.”

“I would tell you to be patient but ever since I heard you yesterday I can’t think of anything else, baby,” Eddie sighs as you pull down his boxers, gasping as it bounces against his taut belly.

A sudden urge fills you to have its weight on your tongue, the girth down your neck, to fill your throat, the primal need alerting you as you never knew wanting a cock like this so badly was even possible. By pure instinct you reach out to grab him, basking in the moan he chokes out.

His voice could satiate a hungry belly, if you had one.

His previous confession suddenly sparks, looking up at him curiously as you work your hand along his devious length. “What did you hear yesterday?”

“Baby, your house has some thin fucking walls,” he husks out, watching your eyes go bug wide in the revelation. “I didn’t hear anything but moaning, but if it's any constellation, I hope you were thinking about me, because I sure as shit was thinking about you right outside your bedroom.”

You start to guide his leaky tip toward your mound, biting your lip as you peer up at him with doe eyes. “Please?”

“Were you?”

You sob out of desperation, your forehead landing on his shoulder. “Eddie, please–”

“Patience, slut.” You pause, pouting as you look up at him. “Were you thinkin about me while you greedily came over and over again?”

You nod, biting your lip anxiously as you glance down to his length only mere inches away from your weeping, begging entrance. “You used your tongue on the soft serve like it was–”

“I know I did, baby.” Eddie smirks, watching the shiver roll through you as the head collides with your clit. “So glad you noticed.”

You sigh impatiently, clawing your nails into his shoulder as he continues to tease you. “Eddie, pl–”

Your pathetic begging is turned off as soon as he pushes in, splitting you open as he slowly works his way to the hilt. “Jesus.”

“Eddie,” you moan, the heels of your hands digging into his collarbone. “F-fuck!”

His dark eyes bore into yours, labored breath piercing the air in the otherwise deadly quiet house. “I fuckin’ knew your pussy would be like this.”

“Like what?” You ask, pulling him closer as he did with you.

“Like a fuckin’ drug,” Eddie growls, rolling his hips against yours, the symphony of moans swallowed as he crashes his lips onto yours with an almost angry force.

It begins with a few stings, but the pleasure drowns it out before you even get a chance to revel in it, his cock hitting places you didn’t even know possible.

Your legs cling onto him, lapping kisses and nibbles down his chest hungrily as he works into you with choked out moans, seemingly losing himself in the heat of your pussy.

You slowly bruise your way down his chest, remembering every time you’d ever said how badly you’d wanted to bite him and to mark your territory as yours. All through the night he has called you his girl, but you finally get the chance to claim him. “Mine.”

“Feelin possessive, are we, baby?” He gasps out, curling his fingers through your hair and pulling at your scalp.”Wanting to claim this old man all yours?”

“You’re all fucking mine, Ed,” you claim again, moving to lap at one of his peaked nipples.

“As long as you’re mine,” he gasps back, pulling your head back up to where you can kiss him again.

You nod eagerly, the double meanings of the words seemingly lost on you to what he actually might mean. Regardless, the following kiss is desperate, even more so as his hips continue on their relentless pace.

You whine at the sudden loss, feeling empty and lonely when his body warmth leaves yours for the moment. “Bend over the fucking couch.”

It takes a minute to register, floating on the kitchen counter in a daze.

“Awww, my cock drunk slut,” his voice is sweet, malevolently so as his fingers dig into your hair and pull on your scalp as he leans in against your ear. “I said, bend over the fucking couch.”

You whimper, scrambling to climb down and run shakily to the living room. You’re guided by his hand in your hair again to the arm rest, using his foot to widen your stance. “Arch your back. More. There you go. Now be a good slut and tell me how fucking good it feels to be ripped in half by the rockstar of your dreams.”

Eddie lets go of your scalp to smack your ass, the thwack startling you in the best of ways as he watches it jiggle from the force. “Shove your face into the pillow, there we go.”

No more warning is provided when he pushes himself into you, making what you used to think was hard and fast into slow and pathetic. Eddie’s relentless hips are in their own fucking league. He sirens primal moans from you, your fingers digging into the cushions as he pounds into your pussy relentlessly.

“I just started, and you’ve already gone completely dumb? God I’ve ruined you for every bad fuck you’ve ever had.”

It’s true. Eddie Munson has ruined you in ways you simply could not comprehend, your torso practically flat on the couch as he tightens his grip on your hips. You push your ass against him, somehow communicating how fucking much you need him.

“Bet you’ve dreamed of this, yeah?” He mocks as his grip tightens on your hip. “Well for the last three nights I guess I returned the favour because I have dreamt of nothing but you. What you’d sound like, what you’d look like, god what you’d taste like— you’re in my fucking head.”

Your knees dig into his legs, your toes curled close to your ass as they possibly can be as you feel the impact of his hips start to form an ache against your thighs, your cheeks, fuck–your hole. Regardless of the spreading throb, you squeeze him tighter, silently begging for more. Just when you thought you understood what the term fucked stupid meant, you realize you had no idea as your brain starts to turn into mush.

“You’re taking it so fucking well, princess,” fuck, usually princess is a massive turn off but even you could tell the immediate reaction of you gushing around him. “Likes bein’ called princess, hmm? Give me your arm, then, princess.”

It’s a reflex how your hand raises backwards toward him, limply hanging as high as it can go which is barely a foot over your torso.

“Good, other one, too,” you whine, cut off by a sharp thrust as he grabs your other wrist to hold them both together in one hand. You think you’ve gotten the new position figured out when one hand moves up to your forearm, yanking it harshly so he has his good arm slotted between your elbows and the small of your back. “There we go.”

You’re practically standing on your two feet again, your back arched at an impossible angle as his other hand wraps itself around your neck. “Aah, that's much better. Look up.”

Your eyes flutter up to see a small round accent mirror on the wall directly across from you on the wall directly above a record player, yours and Eddie’s reflection featuring your faces, your hair tussled and eyes dazed. You blink to Eddie’s who’s smirking over your shoulder with hot cheeks and half-mooned eyes. You shyly look way from his possessive hold, having pulsed around him at how fucking gone you both look.

“Look back in the fucking mirror,” he commands, tightening his once lax grip on your neck so he constricts your airway just the littlest bit. “Look how fucking gone you are, you’re just covered in me, hmm?”

All you can do is bite your lip and push back on him, begging for his hips to continue that oh so powerful trek.

The following movement of his hips are barely noticeable, but your reflection gasps, her jaw dropping to the needed friction. “Ed–”

“Keep being my good princess and watch yourself be fucked in the mirror for me, won’t you sweet girl?” You nod, but Eddie doesn’t seem to care to wait for your answer, his hips colliding with your in a harsh slap, officially rendering any left over brain you might have had completely useless.

“Look at your fucking pretty face,” he shudders, starting to sound quite desperate himself. “There’s not a thought behind those gorgeous eyes of yours. Every muscle on your face is relaxed, your jaw falling open as if begging for me to shove my cock past those lips of yours, fuck you look so fucking perfect for me, princess.”

Your brain begs you to say something, to tell him how fucking good his cock feels, how he’s splitting you open as he feels impossibly deep as if he were kissing your cervix with every hit, how sex like this was only supposed to exist in softcore porn. How watching yourself get stupider with every hit with his hand wrapped around your neck in a claim of ownership turns you the fuck on, adding fuel to an out of control forest fire.

But your brain has turned into a puddle.

“That’s it, baby, keep bein’ good for me I’m almost done,” he lets go of your neck just to grab a handful of your hair once again. “G’nna fill that fuckin pussy up, s’ that ok?”

You find it in you somewhere to nod yes in direct juxtaposition against the grip on you, vision now fizzling as your eyes slowly fall closed. Whatever you have ever wasted time fantisizing clearly will never live up to the real thing.

Eddie’s words have warped into grunts and half finished sentences, hitting somewhere deliciously deep until his sticky ropes cover your walls up in him, filling you to the brim to make you impossibly, impossibly full.

He works himself through it, whimpering at his own sensitivities when the arm clutching yours sets you free but works itself on your clit once more, jerking you up from where you crumpeled forward onto the couch.

“Just need to feel you squeeze my cock while you cum, princess,” he mutters, sounding utterly destroyed as his voice croaks.

You try to wiggle away from him, feeling so oversensitive it forces its way up your throat in an intense sob. “Too-too much!”

“I know you can take it, princess,” he drawls, darkening his voice in the way he knows you like.

“Ed–”

“Please, jus’ for me?” He asks, his grip on your hip too tight for you to keep crawling forward.

“I-I c–” stars crash in your vision, thrashing as you feel his strong torso directly against your back.

“See?” he mumbles, peeling his arm around your tummy as he maneuvers you and him on your sides, spooning you on the couch, both covered in sweat. Eddie lifts your chin in his grip, shoving his tongue down your throat, the vibration of his humming helping you come back down to earth. “I knew you could do it.”

Somewhere in the kisses he slips himself out, distracting you with his marvelous kissing expertise as his hands find themselves enwrapping yours, fingers intertwined against your sternum fiercely as you get lost in his taste. Eventually you need to catch your breath, gasping as your head lands on the fabric of the sofa roughly, slowly drifting off to sleep.

Eddie gets up, ignoring your calls to stay with you. After some loud rummaging and swearing he returns, shocking you with a yelp as a wet cloth cleans you from the dripping cum out your full pussy. “Sorry. Didn’t want to ruin the nice couch.”

“Think we past ruined long ago,” you comment, peering up at him as he sends you a soft smile.

“Might be true.”

First thing you notice is he’s gotten dressed again, and just like that the spell is broken, and the aftermath of your adventures settle in.

His brown eyes tentatively meet yours, pensive and careful as you slowly sit up on the couch. What now?

He wears no smile on his face, searching yours as he leans in, his pointer finger hooked under your chin as he plants a gentle kiss on your lips that makes you miss the feel of him already. “I’m definitely not tired, would you like to watch a movie with me?”

You nod, eyes still closed as you reel from the whiff of emotions that repeatedly compound through you. “I don’t think I can stand.”

“I’d be insulted if you could,” he huffs, planting a sweet kiss on your nose. “Be right back. You want sweatpants or something more akin to those pretty dresses you’ve been flouncing around in?”

“Hmm, happy middle, please,” you ignore his jab, if just for the obvious amusement in his voice.

“Aah, a thong and a necklace coming up,” he jokes, running up the stairs before you could playfully glare at him.

He brings you a matching tank and shorts and a light blanket, setting up Smile for you two to watch as he curled you into his chest. When the movie is over you glance up at him, worried for what exactly came out his mouth next.

We probably should keep it as a one time only event.

You reluctantly agreed, crawling into a too big bed as you already miss his comforting weight right next to you. Sleep never comes, in fact, sleep has stopped texting you back because you have never been more wide awake.

Sweat seeps through the sheets and shines on your forehead as you wrap yourself up in an accidental burrito from all the turning and tossing, your emotions one puddle, thundering and storming into a lake of aroused confusion and clouded judgment as your weekend plays on repeat.

By the time the sky shines a periwinkle blue once again you’ve decided you could not take it for two more seconds, impulsively getting up to run back across the hall.

The door opens to a wildly disheveled head of curls, his hand raised as if he was about to knock. His mouth opens but you don’t give him the chance to tell you Yeah, no, fuck that, because your lips are on his in a flash, arms recklessly thrown around his shoulders and pulling him into your bedroom for some more of his lips, his hands, his hips, his tongue.

Neither of you had enough resolve to decide it would only be a one time thing.

-

Six Months Later

Eddie huffed a few bouts of laughter as you litter kisses all over his neck, refusing to listen to his out of breath protests as you nuzzle into his intoxicating stubble. “Babe, babe! I have to take a shower, I fucking stink!”

You giggle, working your hands up his fishnet shirt layered under the graphic tee. “Mhmm,” you hum, lapping up some rank sweat that has built up at the hinge of his jaw. “Smells amazing.”

“You’re a fucking freak, have I ever told you that?” He laughs, intertwining his fingers through your hair as he shoves his tongue down your throat.

“You’ve mentioned it,” you sigh, gasping against his minty breaths. “Helps having a smoking hot boyfriend, you know?”

“Baby, I really need a shower, I will meet you in the lounge,” he sighs, sounding like he’s about to give up.

“I could join you,” you suggest, pulling him in closer against you.

“As tempting as that is, we both know neither of us are getting any cleaner if that happens,” he sternly holds your face at a distance from his, his eyebrow flickering up pointedly when you attempt to lean in for more. “I promise to fuck you into the mattress, against the couch, and wherever else you might want later, okay, my sweet princess?”

“Fine,” you huff, grinning against his lips at the final sweet kiss he gives you, at the shivers down your spine that have never stopped, that have never shown signs of stopping.

The dressing room door closes behind you as the spray of the water hits the shower floor, a taunt that you are not in the cramped space with him, the one place you crave.

After offering his bandmates your best compliments, you act as a wallflower, watching the moon-eyed fans get their selfies as you played with the guitar pick chained around your wrist. You scrolled through your twitter app, saving photos of your gorgeous boyfriend in quality photos and the litter of hickeys you had spent hours giving him for hours the previous night.

A sudden impossible yet familiar laugh fills the air, your eyes snapping up to your dad’s familiar swoop of brown locks tossed back in a full body chuckle. Your stomach falls into the pits of hell.

You had checked with Eddie before hand that Steve hadn’t gotten any tickets emailed to him to avoid this very particularly sticky situation. You had agreed to keep it quiet until it started getting more serious.

Well…it had turned serious but you knew for a fact your dad wouldn’t be too happy with the coupling.

Your eyes jolt around the room to look for a quick escape, forgetting there’s only one door in, and unless you were going to turn unrealistically stealthy in the next minute, sneaking past him was not an option.

Your hesitation turns out to be your doom, just as you make a choice his brown eyes landed on you, lighting up in surprise.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

“Sunshine!” He calls out, holding his arms out and reaching for a hug. “What are you doing here? Thought you were staying with your roommate for the week!”

You had specifically told him you were stuck with your roommate who was getting over an ex boyfriend. The ex boyfriend part was right, but you were assisting from afar, with your own boyfriend luring you off the phone.

You hug him back, a wave of guilt washing over you, unable to relax in his familiar arms. “I made it down last minute!” The lie is forced, reminding you of times you knew you were caught but chose to dig deeper rather than climb out.

Sometimes it's just easier that way.

Steve’s brows furrow, crossing his arms just as something occurs to him. “How-how did you even make it down so quickly, I just called you this morning—“

He is interrupted by a familiar set of arms thrown around you from behind, squeezing you tight until you weasel out of them, your nerves on a hotwire.

For a moment that stretches out, lasting forever enough for you to see the V between Steve’s brow deepen, his head tilting ever so slightly, a slight frown downturning his lips.

And the panic that shifts every muscle of Eddie’s face when he sees Steve.

Finally, things set back into motion as puts on a facade of surprise, well not a facade as he’s actually surprised, he certainly knows how to put on a face of delight.

“Steve, my boy!” He collides his chest with his best friend, back pats exchanged as they embrace one another. “I didn’t know you were coming!”

Steve shrugs, his hands slotted into his pockets once they separate. “You didn’t answer my email, but Gareth did.”

When you switch your gaze to the drummer, he winks, telling you he has been paying attention to the shit show the entire time.

A few beats in the conversation, Steve starts to wonder if he was making everything up in his head, if he was just imagining your awkward stances and the way you’re standing just an inch too far away from one another.

Because there is no other reason you’d have to lie.

But all the little things keep sticking out to him. Your disheveled hair, in a way that couldn’t be manufactured. A bruise on Eddie’s neck, no bruises, but this one seemed familiar—

Steve’s eyes dart to your smudged lipstick, just barely fixed.

The fidgeting of a bracelet around your wrist, your anxious swaying, Eddie’s nervous rambling.

The way Eddie rushed to hug you like an old friend yet can’t seem it dare keep his eyes on you longer than a second.

”Eddie Munson, tell me you are not hooking up with my daughter.”

-

Oop.

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This is the last chapter hope y’all loved 😭

[cacoetheswriting]

celebrity skin. (part nine)

pairing: rockstar!eddie munson x popstar!fem!reader word count: 4.6k summary: an album release forces some feelings and conversations — one thing's for sure though, Eddie will always be thinking about you.

content warnings: 18+, minors dni: suggestive & mature themes, adult language, use of pet names, mentions of alcohol consumption, mentions of blackmail — if i missed anything in this chapter, pls let me know!

& psa: images used in the header don’t depict readers physical attributes! these are also described vaguely in the story, only that she’s a little shorter than eddie.

celebrity skin. masterlist

“We are here this morning with a true music icon in the making, who’s hits like Compromising Positions and most recently Honesty took the world by storm. Now, Eddie Munson is just a few short days away from releasing his sophomore album with his Corroded Coffin bandmates, Assistance is Futile. Welcome to Eddie Munson everybody, yes!”

“Happy to be here, Charles.”

Good Morning America was definitely not the type of talk show the rockstar pictured himself ever getting invited on. He didn’t think his personal style, or the music he was putting out there with the band, would be something the producers would welcome. Considering especially the whole thing was televised live. No cuts, no edits, no take backs. Whatever is said remains out there forever. Quoted and interpreted until the next schmuck makes a fool of himself.

Hosts, Charles Gibson and Joan Lunden, were also known to be quite blunt with their guests. Blunt, but not in the rude sense of the word. Given their history on the network, their experience, they're simply good at what they do, which sometimes means effortlessly picking at a topic until they get a satisfactory reaction or better yet, television worthy answer. Of course there’s always a list of pre-agreed questions, carefully discussed with management and PR teams, but things have known to… slip out.

But Marianne trained him. Extensively. She flew out to New York the second this interview was arranged and spent hours in Eddie’s penthouse hotel room going over details that to most people, people not from this world, may seem minor: how to sit, how to smile, what to laugh at, the amount of seconds it should take him to answer a question. The list goes on. And now she was here, at the studio, to make sure Eddie saw a friendly face in the crowd. Someone to look at in case he got flustered at any point during the fifteen minute round.

“Before we get into the nitty gritty,” Joan begins, crossing one knee over the other, “Eddie, why don’t you tell us a little about how you and the band first got started?”

So Eddie talks. He’s charming as he tells the story, sparing a few details ‘cause he knows he doesn’t have a lot of time. He does however, crack a few jokes, including one about the list of names Gareth and Jeff brought to him one night before they all agreed on Corroded Coffin. Charles laughs before asking the next question about the band's success so far, and what he makes of it.

“Oh man, it’s so insane,” Eddie answers truthfully, “I still have days where I don’t think any of this is real. All of us in the band feel incredibly lucky, for sure.” He nods along as he speaks.

Joan and Charles take turns asking a few more general questions about the band plus the other members who couldn’t make it out today, before settling on the whole reason Eddie agreed to do this interview in the first place: promotion for the new album.

Assistance is Futile was a collection of songs about you — but that was not going to be an answer he gives today, accidentally or otherwise. Instead, the rockstar focuses attention on how the record was built. Technical language that he dumbs down slightly to make sure he’s continuously captivating his audience (Marianne’s advice). He tells them what instruments the group played around with that may not have featured on their last album, which was more classic rock than this new project. And he’s excited as he talks. Passionate.

He continues to lay out the facts. List the number of tracks it features, eleven plus two bonus songs on the extended version. He talks about the writing process, still carefully avoiding mentioning the influence. He won’t say he wrote them all during the aftermath of your breakup. He hasn’t even admitted that to you, despite the fact that you spent every waking moment together since the afternoon at Cove City Sound Studios. He knows he won’t be able to hide that for much longer, but until the album comes out and you hear the songs for yourself, he’ll keep it to himself because things have been so… great.

Sure, things weren’t back to normal. It can’t be the way it was until Eddie finds the time to speak with your management and nip this whole evil grandmother blackmail thing in the bud. At least he’s got you in some capacity. He gets to talk to you again, laugh with you. He gets to hug you, kiss you, touch you. Friends with benefits, or whatever the term is. Eddie’s just glad to be around you.

“Now, here at the studio, we got an exclusive, sneak peak listen to Assistance is Futile, and there’s a little bit of speculation between the crew about the meaning behind some of the songs.”

Boom. There it is. The dreaded topic. And it was going so well.

“Care to share where the inspiration for these lyrics struck you? Who, in particular, they might be about?”

Eddie smiles. “Give into the charade”, Marianne’s words ring in his ears, “But by any means, don’t confirm their suspicions”. Not an easy task. A slippery slope by all accounts. He ever so slightly glances in the direction of his manager who nods her head to show encouragement.

“Who do you think they’re about, Joan?” Eddie bounces the question back.

The presenter smiles. She knows she shouldn’t say. Yes, it would be good for ratings, but bringing up your name is not something that can be done lightly. She knows that. Hence why Joan hoped Eddie Munson wouldn’t be smart enough to avoid the initial question. But the rockstar’s been trained and he’s not about to mess up with two minutes to spare.

“Well, I’d say my friend Charles here. He’s got, what was that one lyric, legs for days and a wicked smile.” Joan deflects. Ever the professional.

The whole studio starts laughing. Eddie joins in, satisfied with the way this worked out. 

“You’d be right on the money there, Joan.” The rockstar nods with a wide smile before continuing, “Charles Gibson has been a constant inspiration for Corroded Coffin songs. There’s not a lot to do in Hawkins, where we grew up. Gotta write what you know and my uncle has an affinity for this show.” 

He turns to the camera to say hi to Wayne, “I know you’re watching.”

Then shifts to look at the hosts once more, winking at the gentleman sitting across from him.

“Charles, you sexy devil, you.”

The laughter continues. People start to clap, whistle along to Eddie’s perfectly curated response. Marianne is beaming with pride because for a brief moment, she didn’t think he could do it. There've been so many mishaps in the past, wild things the band — the curly-haired frontman in particular — have done that she’s had to either smooth over with the media or keep hidden from the public altogether. This morning she finally exhaled. He did well.

You’re laughing too. Feeling proud too as you watch him through your television screen, just like you promised Eddie you would.

Blanket covering your body, all the way up to your chin, as you sit comfortably on the couch. The smile on your face is as genuine as they come. He’s so good at this. Considering how nervous he was, how much time he spent with Marianne going over every possible scenario until his head hurt. You took a mental note to tell him later that he really had nothing to worry about. He’s a natural.

The question about his inspiration for the album didn’t surprise you. It’s pretty standard for these types of press junkets. Even more given the fact your relationship has been the talk of the town for months, especially when the two of you weren’t even together. People love to speculate.

When Eddie told you about the upcoming album, one night after you came down from another intense orgasm, you assumed he wrote about your relationship — especially the failures. Honesty came to the rockstar after only one night. Makes sense that a complete record would be next. He didn’t confirm it though, because you didn’t ask. You would know once it came out, when you purchased your own copy to listen through. Artists supporting artists, and whatnot.

“Corroded Coffin’s Assistance is Futile. Coming to a record store near you, this Thursday, October 14.” Charles Gibson announces, holding up a shiny compact disc to one of the cameras, showing off the album’s cover art: a thundering night sky, with something sinister looming inside the blood red clouds. An ode to the band's Dungeons & Dragons days.

“Eddie Munson, thank you for your time today.” Joan Lunden flashes a pearly white smile.

The rockstar returns the expression. “Thank you for having me.”

Backstage, Eddie gives Marianne a big hug. Thanking her for being here. While returning the embrace, she reassures him that’s never going to change. “Or at least until the contract ends,” his manager teases and ruffles his already wild hair before sitting down on the velvet sofa.

“So, tell me, am I flying back to LA alone?”

Eddie picks up a bag of previously opened Funyuns before leaning against the vanity. He shuffles the remainder of the onion-flavoured corn chips inside the plastic, then starts eating them, one by one.

“Yeah,” he says, shrugging as if it was an obvious answer. “We’ve got the release party for the album. The guys would kill me if I missed it.”

“I’d kill you first.”

He smirks. “Then why ask me the question?”

Marianne gives him a pointed look. One that says, no, screams, he of all people should know why. Eddie got on a private plane to New York so he could “sort something out”, then ended up staying for weeks longer than intended with no explanation. Marianne called him at the hotel multiple times, asking for a return day, but he always gave a vague answer. Then Gareth called, as did Jeff (who sort of already suspected the reason for the delayed homecoming, kudos to Holly), but Eddie continued on the road of avoidance, all while Page Six posted about sightings of him with a certain pop sensation.

“Eddie, you haven’t been this happy since—”

“I know,” he interrupts, “I know and yes, to whatever you’re thinking, but I don’t wanna talk about it now because there’s something I need to do first.”

“What do you need to do?” She asks, puzzled because in the time they’ve worked together, the rockstar has never once left her out of action. She did everything for him. That was her job. One she did gladly because she’s grown to care for these boys.

Eddie sighs, wiping his crumb covered hands on the material of his trousers. The bag of chips lays empty on the table next to him. Of course he contemplated telling Marianne everything on multiple occasions, but each time he chickened out at the last minute. He knew she could fix everything in the blink of an eye. Simply, the rockstar just didn’t feel worthy of that. 

His entire life, Eddie ran away. From situations, from people, from feelings. Anything that was messy, or just became messy. He ran until the distance felt comfortable enough to continue with his life. Growing up in Hawkins, he didn’t have a Marianne. He didn’t have anyone that would stand up for him, so running became second nature. Running fixed his problems. 

By the time the band hit stardom, running turned to escapism in the form of drugs and alcohol. The bubble. Under the influence, the rockstar didn’t care who cleaned up after him and Marianne was so good at her job that most of the time, Eddie didn’t even know there was a problem to run from until it was resolved.

The situation with your grandmother however, was different. It involved you. 

He gave into his instincts and ran. Only this time, Eddie ran to protect you. Threats were made to potentially ruin your career — fucked up, considering the person that made them was also the person who helped kick-start your fame. And as selfish as he may seem to people that don’t know the real him, the rockstar wasn’t willing to gamble everything you built for yourself. He ran.

But Eddie was done running. He was going to fix this and he planned on doing it alone.

“What’s going on?” Marianne stands and takes a step closer, crossing her arms. Concern is starting to fill her veins, though she’s trying her best not to show it. Trying and failing.

Maybe solving this alone wasn’t the way to go.

“Someone’s been blackmailing me,” he admits eventually, reluctantly. 

“What?!” Marianne just about shouts. “Who? For how long?”

“It’s uh…. It’s a complicated story.”

“Well, fuck.” She’s slightly annoyed ‘cause how could he have hidden something like this from her? This is why the band has her. Managing them, planning shit to maintain their career is only a small part of her job. Protecting these boys is a priority and blackmail is a big fucking deal.

Exhaling, Marianne lets her arms drop and proceeds to take a much less confrontational stance. 

“Eddie, you know I’ve always got nothing but time for you, so spill.”

And he does. Starting right at the beginning with Chrissy Cunningham.

-

When Eddie stops by your place later that afternoon, he kisses you, the second you open up your apartment. He kisses you fully, deeply. He’s kicking the door closed with his boot, lips continually locked together, his hands holding you firmly by the waist. A man on a mission and the mission being to make you feel like you're floating all the damn time. 

You smile against his soft lips. Mission accomplished.

“That’s one way to say hello.”

“Hello,” he whispers back, also smiling. “How was your morning?”

“Not nearly as interesting as yours,” you answer his question and turn in your spot, wanting to lead him to the couch. Eddie’s hands remain on your waist as you do so, no inclination of letting go.

MTV is on. The wild-haired rockstar instantly feels at home — a stark contrast to that first night he showed up at your door. Adrenaline pumping. Unsure of the outcome. But it was better than he could’ve imagined, dreamed. Back in your arms with little to no arguments. Back where he for sure belonged.

Honesty comes on. The video makes him smile as he effortlessly pulls your legs over his thighs, hand settling on your soft flesh and giving it a gentle squeeze. The memory of that day with you on set. Eddie wouldn’t call it acting. Hugging you, kissing you on camera. Not a tough act. Natural, actually. That was a good day. You’re thinking it too.

“Magnetic.”

“Huh?”

Eddie can’t tear his eyes away from the screen. “You’re magnetic. Utterly. I almost forgot, but I didn’t really, you know? I-I think about that day often and how much fun it was,” he rambles. It’s sweet. 

“But what I replay in my mind the most is how fucking talented you are, sweetheart. A goddess in front of a camera, I swear.”

You smirk, your own mind flying to something much, much dirtier than what Eddie meant, and he flicks your leg at the institution, all while glancing at you from the corner of his brown eyes. Because there was a video camera left under the rockstars California King bed with a tape inside, a tape that could get you both — although the sexist industry you’re lucky to be a part of would blame only you, mainly — in a lot of trouble, if it ever saw the light of day. A tape for private eyes only. And Eddie wasn’t wrong, you were near damn a goddess.

“Wish we could work together again,” he says, then quickly adds, “Professionally, sweetheart, before you get any kinky ideas.”

That makes you laugh.

“Think you should focus on the album the band is about to release, hotshot. Once that’s a sure hit, then we can talk about doing something together.”

“Well, there is a box in my room, back in LA, with notebooks full of songs…”

He’s trying to be encouraging. Motivational. Really what Eddie’s doing is building up the courage to ask you to go back to Los Angeles with him. In a complete roundabout way, to be honest. The guys would call him a pussy. He was being a pussy. There was however, a lot he still needed to tell you. This whole thing with your grandma, for one. But Marianne was handling that now, and once she gave him the agreed upon sign, there was nothing stopping Eddie from screaming he loves you from all available rooftops — which he hoped to do for the first time at the place you two officially met. 

And with his manager on the case, he knew it would be sooner rather than later.

“Eddie, you’re a dumbass.” Marianne states. There’s a frown on her face, but it’s not serious. Accompanied by a smile that’s giving him a little bit of hope.

“I know—”

“No,” she interrupts, “You don’t.” 

He exhales. “I do, though.”

“Eddie. If you came to me when this first happened, you would’ve never lost all this time with Little Miss Perfect. The fact that you didn’t, the fact that you didn’t trust me with this information, makes you a dumbass.”

“So, you can fix this?”

“There’s a little thing called a Cease and Desist,” Marianne says as if it’s the most obvious answer in the world. And in a way, it is. “No one is going to threaten the career of my favourite client and get away with it.”

Eddie smiles. Genuinely. Something reminiscent of relief is flowing through his body, down to the tips of his toes, until he no longer feels heavy. The burden of this situation is slowly lifting.

“With your permission, I’d like to approach her team with this information. They’ll most likely also issue a cease and desist, so that her career is also protected.” Marianne says. “But I guess since all you’ve tried to do is keep her out of harm’s way, the only way you knew how, I’m assuming I have your permission without even asking for it?”

“Yes, yes, thank you.” He’s repeating over and over and over, wrapping his arms around Marianne. A hug they’d both cherish forever.

“Like I said, let’s get you to survive this record release first, okay?”

You’re looking at each other now.

“Take it day by day, Eds.”

“What if I want to skip ahead?”

There’s a lot hiding behind that question. The future is uncertain in many ways. He knows that he wants you, you know that you want him. That’s enough, but at the same time it isn’t. Day by day is easier than thinking about tomorrow, or the next day. He just loves you, which he’ll tell you soon. That’s what he wants to skip too.

On the other hand, you’re terrified. Giving into him again brought no shortage of anxiety about his past behaviour. Eddie Munson hurt you, twice. Second time worse than the first. You forgave him, yet the fear was still there. The question remained: what if he did it again? He wouldn’t, but what if he did? So taking it day by day, as it came, was easier. A shield, of sorts. Protection against hurt. 

Also, it was a lot more fun to act without consequence. To just be. 

Existing with him felt almost normal, even though there was nothing normal about the various interviews and photoshoots the rockstar has been doing promoting Assistance is Futile while in New York, or the long phone calls with his manager and bandmates in preparation for the release party. Nothing normal about your own career, which you’ve slowly been defrosting following the short heartbreak hiatus. Pivoting slightly towards acting as a new form of expression. So you’re reading scripts, rehearsing lines. All without expectations. Day by day.

“Skipping ahead means you, going back to LA for the release party,” you point out.

“You could come with me. The invitation is there, you know that.”

“There’s nothing I’d want more than to be there for you and the guys, Eddie, you know that.” You lean in closer, pressing your body weight into his. “But if I make an appearance, it will overshadow the album you worked really hard on and that’s not fair.”

He doesn’t say anything. Instead, pressing his lips to the side of your head, leaving a soft kiss while inhaling the sweet scent of your shampoo. He slowly nods against you, understanding your point of view.

“So we won’t see each other for a while then, huh?”

“Well, I got that recurring part in Law & Order which is filming here, so that’s a couple of months, at least, that I’ll be stuck here in New York.”

“I can visit,” he jumps in almost instantly, “And you, maybe… You can come out to see me whenever you have breaks in filming?”

“Sounds good, Eds.”

There’s a moment of silence. It shifts towards the heavy side. Eddie’s biting his tongue. He wants so badly to tell you everything he’s been keeping secret, but he knows it’s not a good idea until Marianne confirms she’s consulted your team and the cease and desist letters have been sent out. He’s just not ready to say goodbye yet. Not even for a little while. He just got you back. You’re also lost in thought. Reuniting with the Corroded Coffin frontman has been nothing short of a rollercoaster, in the best way possible. Having him here, next to you once more, kissing and touching you. And you know it was limited. That time would come knocking and he’d have to go back, while you’d need to stay. Bittersweet would be the word to describe how you feel. 

“How about we focus on right now, hm?” You offer, lifting your head so that your sweet gaze catches his chocolate one. Then a short inhale later, you kiss him. Gentle, at first, although not quite a peck. His eyes close on impact as his hand reaches for your face, attaching itself like a magnet. Cradling, squeezing your cheeks. 

And you smile. Fucking smile. Eddie loves it when you smile while kissing him. It drives him crazy knowing his touch makes you that happy. So he can’t help but smile too. Teeth knocking against each other in the process. 

“I’ll never get tired of kissing you,” the rockstar admits.

“I’ll never get tired of kissing you, Eddie Munson.” 

The hand that held his toned abdomen just a mere second ago is now not so innocently sliding in a downward trajectory. You fiddle with his leather belt, unbuckling it rather effortlessly with one hand after you press your lips against his once more. Deeper this time. Wanting.

“But distracting me from a conversation about what’s mph… next,” he mumbles as you tug at his zipper. You’re not giving him a chance to breathe. “Isn’t going to - Jesus - work.”

“Okay,” you’re teasing. It’s a whisper and Eddie’s brain short circuits ‘cause your perfectly manicured fingers are sliding into his boxers, reaching for his semi.

-

“So, you guys are like back together now, huh?” 

Steve’s question lingers in the air for a moment. He’s glancing at his small-town friend turned worldwide phenomenon from across the table, swirling black coffee in his takeaway cup.

Eddie looks out the window at the clouds passing by. 

After getting over his initial fear of flying, since he hadn’t been on a plane until his early twenties, the rockstar decided he enjoyed it a lot more than he thought he would. Things were peaceful up here — especially since he could now afford private jets. Just him and his guitar. Even when he travelled together with the guys, they all got lost in their own thing too, as did Marianne.

The upcoming release party however, prompted an invite to his little sister as well as Steve. So he knew that unfortunately this trip wasn’t going to be a quiet one.

“Something like that,” Eddie answers, turning his attention back to his friend.

Harrington nods. “That’s good, man. She’s great.”

“That she is.” Eddie fails to contain a smile.

“I’m happy for you.” Steve’s words are genuine.

“Thanks, dude.”

The short exchange is interrupted by Max’s snort. The two boys look at the redhead currently splayed out on one of the recliner seats. A book in her lap, one that she’s not really reading, but she’s keeping up appearances anyway.

“To think we wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for my genius,” she retorts, a smirk now present on her face.

Eddie laughs lightly, but doesn’t say anything. He’s looking out the window again. His mind turns to you. He misses you, even though he saw you not even a half hour ago when you said goodbye before he got on the plane. He misses you. Anxiety building since neither of you are really sure when you’d be able to see each other next. “And that’s okay,” is what you said to him in between soft kisses. He’s repeating it now.

“She’s not coming to the party, right?” Red asks her older brother, briefly breaking Eddie away from his thoughts. 

The rockstar shakes his head. “No.”

“You’ll see her soon,” his sister reassures, reaching for his forearm across the aisle, squeezing. 

“I know, I know.” 

“Then why the sad face?” Steve points out.

Eddie wishes he was alone. Then no one would be questioning him, even though he knows it’s coming from a good place. They just care, he tries to level his emotions, they’re asking because they care.

“Our last goodbye wasn’t so good,” he answers plainly.

Luckily both Max and Steve understand. They exchange a glance between themselves before returning to whatever activity they were engaging in prior to the start of this conversation: Red buries her head in the book she wasn’t really reading and Harrington resumes listening to music on his Walkman.

Eddie is once again glancing out the small jet window. He’s once again thinking about you. 

And he continues to think about you when the plane lands. In the car, on the way to his Hidden Hills home. He continues to think about you when the house fills with people that are there to style him for the release party. He’s making small talk, his mind still centred on you.

You remain the centre of his attention, even when Eddie and the band arrive at the venue, and he’s being ripped ten thousand different directions. Picture here, sign this, talk to this person. He enjoys a drink and he’s still thinking about you. He’s wishing you were here. 

The guys are introduced to come up on stage and even though Eddie is on cloud nine for this release, super proud of the record they put together, he’s wishing you were here to celebrate this with him.

He thinks about you as he sings one of the songs. Breaking News — a song about you, of course.

There comes a point during the night, a split second during which Eddie stops thinking about you. Not for any particular reason. Nothing spectacular happens for him to do so, he just… does. But it’s only a fleeting moment. He regrets it as soon as he realises. He especially regrets it when Marianne approaches him, a concerned look spread across her usually composed features — although the rockstar doesn’t pick up on her expression immediately.

“What did you think of the performance?” Eddie asks, smiling wide.

She doesn’t answer. Instead, she reaches for the half-empty glass in his hand and sets it aside before exhaling a sigh.

He furrows his brows, the smile fading as quickly as it appeared.

“Eddie, there’s been an accident.”

thank you for reading! really appreciate the endless & continuous support!

celebrity skin. masterlist

& tagging some cool ppl that expressed interest: @eviethetheatrefreak , @thirddeadlysin , @haylaansmi , @nope-thanks , @tlclick73 , @vintagehellfire , @ashlynnkennedy , @avalon-wolf , @sidthedollface2 , @astheni-a , @bebe07011 , @aysheashea , @papillonoirsworld , @vol2eddie, @spideyanakin-interacts , @rogers-sweatbands , @mimsie95 , @mmunson86 , @eddiesguitarskills , @ohmeg , @hereforshmut , @eg-dr3amer3 (if your user is crossed out, it means the tag isn’t working. pls check you’ve enabled tagging in your settings)

[bingbongsupremacy]

Pt. 3

Pairing: Father! Eddie Munson x reader

Warnings: I've never been on tour so the set up with how it's planned is probably wrong.

Series Summary: Years ago you and Eddie used to be friends. After you graduated, you two fell out of contact. After years of not speaking to each other, Eddie offers you a job you can't resist; be a nanny for his little girl.

Part Summary: Being a nanny for the child of a famous man is a lot harder then you expected. Will you be able to handle it?

*Not Proof Read*

Tag List: @maskofmirrors @saucypeanuttt @hugdealer

Pt.1 Pt. 2 Pt. 3

******

This is it. We're going to fly.

I look out of the small airplane window beside me. We're so high up.

The sky is bright blue with minimal clouds. That helps relieve some of my anxiety. At least we don't have to worry about a tropical storm or something.

We're still so high up though. If someone were to fall off the plane, even when it was touching the ground, it definitely wouldn't be pretty.

In a few minutes we're going to be thousands of feet in the air. That's terrifying.

" You alright? " Eddie's voice breaks through my thoughts. He glances up at me from a random rock magazine in his hands.

I nod stiffly, pulling my gaze from the window. I take a small breath to help myself calm down. " Yeah, I've just never been on a plane before. I guess I'm a little nervous. " I admit while beginning to play with my fingers. " Flying over the ocean is freaking me out a bit. "

Eddie sets his magazine on his lap and turns his full attention to me. " It's going to be alright. I've done this a million times. Nothing's happened then and nothing will happen now. Just try to distract yourself. " He reassures me. " Here. " He pulls out another magazine, this one also about metal music news. " It's band stuff so I hope you don't mind, but it might help to take your mind off of everything. Plus there's a pretty fire crossword puzzle in the back. " He says with a grin, trying to help me feel better.

I smile at him. " Thanks, Ed. "

Eddie's grin widens at the use of his nickname. " Why of course, m' lady. " He exaggerates a playful bow in his seat.

I roll my eyes. " You're a clown. "

" Actually, I prefer the term Jester. " Eddie laughs at my reaction. He glances to the chair next to him where Rose is curled up against the arm rest. The look of pure adoration in Eddie's eyes sends a flutter of happiness through my body.

He loves her so much. He's matured a lot since High school. I never would've pictured him to be this responsible. It's amazing what having a child can do to a person. He just wants the best for her.

" She's a great kid. " I compliment.

Eddie nods in agreement. " I'm very lucky. She's put up with a lot, especially with the tour and everything. "

I wonder where her mom is? I haven't heard Eddie mention anything about her and Rose never calls her.

" If you don't mind me asking, " I begin cautiously. " where's her mother? "

6 months seems very long for a kid to be apart from their parent, especially when they're as young as Rose.

A flicker of anger crosses Eddie's expression.

Worried I offended him, I try to fix it. " You don't have to tell me. Sorry, that was very personal, I shouldn't have asked. "

Eddie shakes his head. He gently pulls the blanket around Rose's small shoulder. " No, you didn't do anything wrong. " He sighs. " It's...it's a long story. "

Overhead the pilot announces that we will be taking off. My hands clamp onto my arm rests as we suddenly begin to move. I refuse to look out of the windows, focusing my attention on our conversation. " Well, lucky for you, I don't think I'll be going anywhere anytime soon. " I nod towards the window. Out of the corner of my eye I can see the ground rush by. We're going to fucking fast.

When we pick up from the ground my stomach drops. A weird unsettled feeling courses through my body. I try to ignore it.

It's okay. It's just a plane.

Yeah a plane thousands of feet in the fucking air.

Eddie seems to pick up on my distress. He leans forward in his seat, as well as forward as the seat belt will allow him to go, and he pats my knee. " It's gonna be alright, Y/N. " He glances over at Rose who's still sleeping and very much unbothered by what's going on around her. " Her mom is a model I met at a party a few years ago. We dated for a bit and then we found out she was pregnant. " Eddie sighs. " She wasn't that interested in being a mom, her career was just taking off. We tried to stay together at least until Rose was born but she wasn't happy. We decided it was best if we broke up. She isn't around much. She's still out there 'finding' herself. She's supposed to come see one of the shows when we get back into the States. She wants to see Rose. We'll see how that goes. She doesn't even bother with child support so I wouldn't be surprised if it's too difficult for her to make it out to see Rose. " He doesn't sound like he carries much belief in the woman.

" I'm so sorry. " I send him a sympathetic look. " That's very rough. "

Eddie shakes his head. " It's alright. I've got Rose and Rose's got me. She doesn't need anyone else. " He tenderly brushes a strand of hair out of the young girl's eyes. " Besides, now she's got an awesome nanny who will be there for here when I can't. " He sends me a smile.

" Of course. "

I've only been around the little girl for a little while but I'm starting to grow more and more protective over her.

Eddie and I continue to talk and eventually, my fears of flying begin to subside and I can finally relax.

It's nice catching up with Eddie. It's been so long since we've seen each other. I forgot how easy he is to be around. In many ways he's changed but in so many others he's exactly the same. He's kind and funny. He cares about what I have to say.

Things my ex struggled with at times.

I don't even realize when I begin to fall asleep. The peaceful atmosphere along with Eddie's soft voice lull me into a hazy state.

" Y/N? " Eddie's voice feels distant and quiet.

I don't respond, my lips feeling too heavy to move. I manage to muster up enough strength to crack my eyes open just enough to see through my lashes.

" Can I get a blanket please? " Eddie asks a nearby flight attendant. She quickly returns with a blanket which he opens up.

I hear the faint click of his seat belt as he takes it off. He shuffles around for a moment before leaning towards me.

My eyes, too heavy for me to keep open, close completely. I feel Eddie's gentle hands tuck the soft blanket around my shoulders. His touch is light as if he's scared of waking me up.

" Sleep well, Y/N. I'm so glad I ran into you. " His voice is so quiet I almost miss his words.

Too exhausted to think over his words, I let my mind slip into darkness, the feeling of safety and comfort completely surrounding me.

I missed Eddie.

*****

" How the fuck did they find out we were going to be here? " Eddie's slightly panicked voice.

My eyes widen at the sight in front of us. Dozens-no hundreds- of people are gathered around the entrance of the hotel we're supposed to be staying. Some are carrying large cameras with blinding flashes that go off as they snap pictures of the car. Others are loudly screaming and carrying signs. Everyone is loud and their eyes are desperate for a chance to see or be noticed by one of the boys.

" Someone must've leaked where you're staying. " Eddie's body guard, Tony, sighs. " Don't worry Ed, we'll get you guys in there safely. " He leans over to say something to the driver.

Eddie turns to me. " I forgot to pack sun glasses for you guys so this is what we're going to do. I'm going to get out and cover you two with my jacket. Keep her face hidden. Try not to look into the flash, that shit can blind you. " He pulls a pair of sunglasses out of his backpack and slips them on. " Trust me, it's not fun stumbling around while not being able to see. Don't worry about the bags. I'll send someone back to grab everything. "

I take Rose out of her car seat and pull her hood up. Eddie waits for me to get ready before he finally opens the door.

Noise floods into the car and the light is so much brighter than what the tinted windows let through.

I'm terrified. The crowd looks uncontrollable and hungry for the attention of Eddie.

The hotel's security struggles to keep a clear path for us to walk through. They firmly tell the crowd to back up but their voices only end up blending with the chaos of the screaming fans and inquisitive paparazzi's.

Eddie keeps true to his word. As soon as he's out of the car he turns his back to the crowd and holds his jacket out.

I hurry towards him, terrified of being in this mess longer than we have to be.

One of Eddie's arms snakes around my shoulders to block out the flashing lights. I tuck into his side, pulling Rose closer.

I keep my head down to watch my feet and keep an eye on Rose who's now restlessly twisting in my arms. The noise and lights are too overwhelming for her, she looks like she's about to burst into tears.

" Daddy! " She squeaks while trying to reach for the man. I struggle to keep a good grasp on her.

" It's okay, Rosie. It's okay. " His voice is calm, but I can tell he's nervous. His body is tense against mine and he's basically holding onto my shoulder for his life.

" Eddie! Who's with you right now? It this a new partner? " Someone shouts from around us.

" Is Rose there? How old is she now? "

" What do you have to say about the band that allegedly copied one of your songs? "

" Show us who you're with! "

Questions dart through the air causing an overwhelming feeling to flood me. There's so much going on.

" Back up! Back up! " Tony demands ahead of us.

" Please give us some space. We're just trying to get into the hotel. " Eddie's voice is forcibly polite.

It'll be over soon. We're almost there, right?

Damn it this walk feels like it's taken an eternity. The entrance really didn't seem this far away from the car.

Out of the corner of my eye I spot of hand reach under the jacket. It roughly yanks me back, causing me to slam further into Eddie. I let out a small gasp in surprise, my eyes widening.

Eddie firmly holds me down so I don't fall backwards, both of his arms grabbing onto me. " What the fuck! " He exclaims, pulling me further towards him and away from the person who grabbed me.

The jacket slips down slightly and I'm able to peek out over the top.

Rose is now full on sobbing, terrified of the sudden rough movements. Her small hands cling onto my shirt, looking for any form of comfort. The top of her head slightly peers out from between Eddie and I revealing one of her tear filled eyes.

I pull one of my hands over her face, trying to bounce her slightly.

I don't know what the fuck to do? How am I supposed to comfort a child when I don't even feel safe myself.

Eddie's livid. He sends a rough look towards the paparazzi who yanked me. " What the fuck is your problem? Don't touch them! Back the fuck off, you entitled piece of shit. We're fucking people! My daughter's right here! You could've hurt them both. " His grip around me is tight and protective.

The man's eyes widen in surprise. He's momentarily paused from taking pictures. " Hey man, I didn't mean anything buy it. I was just trying to get your attention. "

" Well you fucking got it. " Eddie snaps.

I haven't seen him this mad since failed Mr. Ryan's chem class for the 3rd time.

" Eddie please, let's get inside. " I beg the man.

Eddie's eyes shift towards us. His anger seems to morph into slight concern at the sight of our state. " Yeah, I'm sorry. Let's go. "

He sends one last nasty look towards the man who pulled me before we continue towards the hotel.

Eddie was right. These lights are blinding. If Eddie wasn't holding my shoulder's I'd definitely fall.

We finally make inside and I let out a breath of relief.

The doors close behind us and immediately security guards stand in front of them to block the entry of the nosy mob.

Eddie lets go of me and immediately reaches for his daughter. He shields her from the windows by blocking everyone's view with his back. " Oh, baby. " He mumbles with guilt. " I'm so sorry. Daddy's sorry. " He gently rubs circles into her small shaking back.

We make our way further in to the hotel and finally out of the view of the mob outside.

The crying seems to have worn out Rose because by the time we reach the front desk she's passed out. Not that I blame her, the whole day's been exhausting.

We collect our keys from the front desk before beginning our journey to find our rooms.

" This was a mistake. I shouldn't have brought her here. What if she's like traumatized now? She's too young for all this crap. " Eddie mumbles in concern.

" Hey, she's going to be alright. " I try to reassure him. " She's a strong little kid, she'll be okay. Don't beat yourself up too much about it. "

Eddie doesn't look like he believes me. Instead of voicing his concerns further, he chooses to nod and remain silent.

We finally come across the massive suite we're staying in. As soon as we enter we're greeted by a large common area with a beautiful gift basket full of treats. To the side is a small kitchen and bathroom.

Eddie disappears into one of the other rooms, one I'm assuming is a bedroom.

I make my way into the other room and a rush of exhaustion hits my body. I didn't realize how exhausted I was until I saw the bed.

I abandon my backpack near the door and flop onto the bed. A small sigh escapes my lips as I close my eyes to block out the bright lights.

This is going to be harder then I thought.

[undead-supernova]

Right Here, Right Now / Masterlist

Chapter 9 / Chapter 10 / Chapter 11

plot: corroded coffin's eddie munson agrees to an interview for the first time in three years, alongside a new album that is most definitely about you.

Pairings: modernrockstar!Eddie x fem!popstar!Reader (curvy!reader, bisexual!reader)

Warnings: talks of familial death, depressing lyricism, angst

wc: 4.1k

note: I also wrote all of the lyrics in this chapter and made the images above of the album's cover and tracklist. I feel so proud of how much my hard work is paying off. DON'T USE THESE LYRICS ANYWHERE ELSE THANK YEW

Just one more mile.

You could do it. No, really, you could.

Tour really was coming up in the next six months and you had to build up your stamina now or else you weren’t going to survive. Things really were better now, though. You’d gotten rid of your personal trainer and switched to someone who did not suggest that you stop eating. It seemed like Sophia was a better fit anyways. If anything, she told you to eat more.

So here you were, on your poor attempt at a night run.

And you promised yourself that you wouldn’t think about him and how his album was dropping any day now.

Definitely, definitely not.

It was nearly midnight anyways, a few out from the witching hour but that’s not how it went for you. If anything, you were cursed with the threat of midnight being the worst hour of each day. It was like some switch flicked on and you were a mess of a woman, splayed out in bed and thinking. Furiously scribbling in a notebook as you lost to the thoughts in your head. Curled up in a ball in the shower, the white noise perfect for your never-ending thinking.

And who could forget sitting in your kitchen with a bowl of Kraft mac and cheese. Don’t forget the thinking.

Thinking about Eddie. His voice. The way he was willing to give you more than you deserved without any rhyme or reason. How desperate you felt to reconnect, to apologize profusely and beg for some semblance of forgiveness.

And now you were here, trying to outrun your problems while watching the headlights passing the windowpane.

Tried to stop thinking about how at any moment, Eddie could show up and you’d fall into his arms without any question. You’d tell him it didn’t matter. None of it did. And he’d say he wasn’t mad anymore and that he missed you and then you’d go on living like you once did.

Before you could lose yourself to wishing on headlights, a notification popped up on your phone.

         Spotify exclusive: Listen to Corroded Coffin’s new album now!

Without any warning, you lost your footing on the treadmill and fell backwards. Hit your head on the floor, stunned. Let the pain throb in your head for only a few seconds before you dragged your body upright and clicked on the album.

Your eyes scanned the track list, heart pumping incessantly as a bead of blood rushed down your forehead. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Quickly, you threw yourself into the shower to wash off before grabbing headphones and padding into your walk-in closet. Situated yourself in the back corner, your body fitting snuggly in isolation. 

And as you pressed that green play button, your grief washed over you at every line you called your favorite.

Welcome Home

         “Dad’s disappearing acts and the award-winning smile 

         saying ‘sure, I’ll be comin’ back’

         Well, I guess we’re both suckers for a little hope every once in a while

         And, mom, is that why you stayed? Waited up praying, decaying all alone

         Just so one day, you’d be able to say, ‘Welcome home’.”

Fever

         “How could you ever fight a fever? God dammit, she’s more than a flame

         Got her pinning me down, locked inside her heat wave

         Sweat dripping, flesh gripping, I melt from her gaze

         Just one more round, promise I’ll behave

         Come on, darling, why don’t you set me ablaze?”

The Cost

         “I ruined all the plans that hadn’t been made

         Loving you as the bellbirds erupted in a haunted chorus

         Rosy pink clouds turned into showers of blood and hate

         I’m trying, baby, I’m trying to find a way out for us

         But isn’t that the cost, darling? 

         Isn’t that the price of being with me?”

Tailor-Made

         “We’re the only ones walking through the neighborhood

         Sweetheart, don’t you think I know how to hide?

         I’d never speak it, but I’d buy every house if I could

         Marry you in secret, raise our kids benevolent and kind.”

Rose Petals (Interlude)

         “Take a boy-turned-man, crucifying himself at your altar

         Convince him your devoted infatuation will never falter

         Paint his skies a vibrant pink then turn him into sheet metal

         Leave him bleeding out, fractured, scattered like rose petals.”

As Good As Dead

         “What’s more cliché than a man saying he’d die without your love

         At least if I had an open vein, I’d feel something better than being numb

         ‘There’s no such thing as fate’ my thoughts screamed so fucking loud

         But there was comfort in blind faith, that ill-fated crowd

         Had a grip on your throat. Shit, maybe it always has

         But now that I’m as good as dead, I can’t help my bitter laugh.”

A Mirage of Lovers

         “There sat Elizabeth and Al,

         on the front porch of their first house

         Blind with momentary affection

         And I swear when I looked at you,

         I thought you were a lasting confection

         But I swear there’s a mirage of lovers

         Blurring in its reflection.”

Deluge

         “It’s all there in my head, all in disarray

         A cesspool of memories, a desperation for change

         Fought for my life, thought it was so I could see you

         Mother, I know that you’re not here, I’m still trying to heal

         But please tell me now that love has always been real

         Yet I wonder if you ever believed it yourself."

Hotwire

         “Al loved a nice Hotwire

         Pull ‘em apart, let them fray, twist ‘em till they go insane

         And, yeah, I guess everyone I love is the same.”

Fallen Hero (Interlude)

         “Every time I pick up a pen

         It’s destined to dry out

         And I refuse to go outside, refuse to call my friends

         What’s the point when they’ll never understand?

         I’ll leave myself behind just to have a pinch of hope

         But I come back down from daydreams covered in blood

         Just gotta learn to change, learn to change

         Learn to accept being the fallen hero."

Intangible

         “There’s beauty in the ways of intangibility 

         Like the touch of a woman in blushing gardens far away

         The curve of her hips blooming in shades of futility

         Laughter billowing like smoke lingering in the archway

         And there’s places she will never be able to evade

         A bouquet, a veil, a lover lying await in the shade.”

Out of My Hands

         “If I could hear your knock, brought back by my revery

         Each rap, each tap still committed to my memory

         But that’s up to you, darling, it’s all up to you

         And it’s the end I’m stalling, just for you

         And I love you, baby. I love you

         I hope you know I always will

         Even if it’s out of my hands.”

Wayne

         “There’s a new family in the trailer, I really wish I could believe it

         'Cause once I thought we'd buckle under the weight of all that labor

         No more scrounging up pennies for another first-aid kit

         And you’re not here, Wayne. No, you’re not here.”

Lighter

         “Give me back my lighter, any excuse to see you

         Let it flicker, sit by the flame from sunrise ’til noon

         Come running back, consider your exile foregone

         I choose you in the low glow of dusk, love you ‘til dawn.”

Makeup starting to smudge, an outrageously expensive crop top and skirt still on, you threw off your pumps and let your aching feet lead you to the kitchen. Your black, white, and neon orange plaid outfit reflected vibrantly off the refrigerator light as you decided instead to make crescent rolls. Why the fuck not? 

You were absolutely exhausted. Sleep hadn’t been an option for you in the last twenty-four hours, what with Corroded Coffin’s album keeping you awake and the promo you’d done all day. When you’d finally arrived back to your small California home, you were irritated and in desperate need of some food.

However, as the oven began to preheat, your jumbled thoughts kept piling on top of one another. The fog was too loud for you, having to rush to your living room to grab one of your many notebooks and pens. Sat at the island and just journaled.

It was hard enough knowing that Eddie had written all of that for you. About you. The disappointment, the self-loathing. The guilt of not feeling good enough. Searching through the past mistakes of his parents to make sense of the way you fell apart. As if that was the inevitable ending to any story he was destined to begin.

You felt sick.

And even though you ate every single crescent roll, your words just sunk into the page. You could’ve sworn a third of the notebook itself was smeared in grease and flakes and the intense shame rising in your chest. It was everything you’d hated about the last six months and more, all the goddamn childish emotions and wails of what was fair and what wasn’t. As if this hadn’t been your decision in the first place.

Enough was enough when you finished your plate.

“Okay,” you mumbled to yourself before letting out a sound of frustration. “Distraction. Now.”

Grabbing your laptop, you threw yourself on your couch and logged onto YouTube. Maybe you’d watch a deep dive on an amusement park. Catch up on some commentary. Look up that one video of baby sloths talking that usually had you crying from affection.

But there on the front page was an interview with Corroded Coffin on the new album. There’d already been over a million views despite being posted that morning. Something pooled in your abdomen as you saw the thumbnail, all the members posing together.

And you knew you shouldn’t.

But fuck it, what’s a little more salt to your never-ending wounds?

As you clicked on the video, some interviewer you hadn’t heard of popped up smiling before he spoke.

“Hi, my name is Marcus Sanderson and today I’m interviewing one of the most successful metal bands in recent history, Corroded Coffin. They have been hitting commercial success lately, after their incredible album, Fire Shroud, held electronic influences which have begun to redefine and evolve the genre for the modern age.

"Their most recent album, Elizabeth & Al, has only propelled them forward. I was given the rare opportunity to talk to Eddie, Jeff, Gareth, Grant, and Ronnie about not only their writing and producing process, but their personal lives. 

“First, we’ll open up with a cover of one of the band’s favorite songs of all time, ‘Solitude’ by Black Sabbath.”

It cut to the band and you couldn’t help a frustrated whine leaving your mouth at seeing him again. And, Jesus Christ, Eddie was fit like a daydream, donning a black Guns N’ Roses t-shirt with dark jeans and a long-sleeved plaid shirt tied at the waist. A shiny leather jacket, some custom-made Converse with Corroded Coffin across the bottom. Rings and bracelets galore, an obsidian choker hanging low on his neck. Black eyeliner that had wings along his lower lash line. 

You didn’t think you’d ever felt so fucking weak for him.

He stood without his guitar for once, his full attention on his singing. Jeff, Gareth, Grant, and Ronnie were all decked out too, makeup mirroring Eddie’s. All looking refreshed and well-rested. You noticed there was someone else there in the background playing the flute and as they started the song with a gentle solo, it sounded ethereal.

         “My name, it means nothing. My fortune is less

         My future is shrouded in dark wilderness.”

Eddie avoided the camera, eyes darting around the room. You could see his fingers shaking, white-knuckled around the microphone despite the stability of the stand. 

         “Sunshine is far away, clouds linger on

         Everything I possessed, now they are gone

         They are gone.”

Absentmindedly chewing on your lip, you couldn't help but let it sink in. This wasn't just the band's favorite Black Sabbath song—this was Eddie's. He'd told you how the song ripped him apart. How he'd rather die than to ever relate to it personally.

         “Oh, where can I go to and what can I do?

         Nothing can please me, only thoughts are of you

         You just left when I begged you to stay.”

He leaned back as he began to change the notes of the lyrics, his voice building into a belt. Like it was a wail, like he was the most furious man alive.

         “I’ve not stopped crying since you went away

         You went away…” 

The instrumental sounded, the flute having its own solo. Extending the moment, extending the devastation that was demolishing your soul.

Eddie was crying now, wiping the corners of his eyes in the background. Smearing his eyeliner like he didn't care, nose tinged pink through the makeup. And when he came back to the mic, you could see the pain sitting in his eyes. All glassy, all excruciatingly fragile.

         “The world is a lonely place, you’re on your own

         Guess I will go home, sit down and mourn

         Crying and thinking is all that I do

         Memories I have remind me of you

         Of you.”

The footage blurred, fading before cutting to Eddie sitting alone in a chair with the interviewer opposite him. Like they were in a house, all casual and at ease.

“We’re starting off by talking to the front man, Eddie Munson,” Marcus said to the camera, smiling before turning his attention back to Eddie. “It’s nice to see you, man. You look great.”

Eddie chuckled. “Great to be back.”

Marcus nodded. “That cover of ‘Solitude’ was incredible, by the way.”

You could see some color flood into Eddie’s cheeks. “Ah, thanks. Thank you.”

“Do you feel like you’ve been in a period of solitude?”

“Uh, to be honest, kinda. I know people are, like, freaking out just ‘cause I haven’t been in public.”

“Where’ve you been?”

“Just making sure I’m focused on the work,” He gestured to himself before mimicking a pushing motion “and not on the external stuff, you know?”

“As we all should. Would you tell me a bit about your new album? Personally, I’m curious as to why you specifically named it Elizabeth & Al.”

“Yeah, uh, those are my parents’ names. My mom passed away when I was a kid and my dad…well, he wasn’t the best. But I just couldn’t stop thinking about what happens when two people who love each other just end up falling apart. Like, you just feel like you’re as good as dead, you know? And I wondered if my parents had that sort of crash and burn before she died.

“I don’t talk about it much, but my dad had a lot of issues with addiction and gambling and crime after my mom died. I didn’t grow up with the generic parent bleep. It was more like I was his friend than a son and sometimes I was a business partner. And, I don’t know, I grew up thinking that love could’ve been so simple if he gave just a little bit of effort. But I still thought he and my mom had a simple love.”

“I’m guessing they didn’t.”

Eddie let out a shaky laugh. “Yeah, no. My dad was never really good at maintaining, like, any kind of control. And it’s so weird ‘cause all he ever did was try to have control over things. But it was self-sabotage, I think. He was never in control over his life. It felt so predestined.”

“What about your mom?”

He shrugged. “I’m not really sure. I think she just wanted love. Like, grasping for that shred of love that he provided every once in a while. ‘Cause it’s not like my dad was incapable of love. Just incapable of giving her everything. Maybe I’m projecting now, but you know what I mean.”

“So, is this album from the perspective of your parents?”

“Not exactly,” Eddie said, shaking his head. “They’re kinda just the reflection, you know? Like what I say on ‘A Mirage of Lovers’. Our parents end up being a kind of mirror we hold up to ourselves. And I think it’s up to us to decide if we’ll continue that cycle or not—especially in the face of heartbreak and loss. ‘Cause you can easily sit there and accuse yourself of being like your father or your mother. But ultimately, you’re just you. You’re not your parents.”

“And you wrote all of this within the last six months, correct?”

“Yeah, it was weird. Like, I just couldn’t stop writing. I was in such a dark place and the only thing I did was sit and write. And the band is so bleeping incredible. I showed them what I was thinking, and they were super, super receptive to it. And we got to work and got it done faster than anything else we’ve made.”

Marcus smiled, something genuine and real, shaking his head in disbelief. “That timeline really does shock me, just because it’s so seamless. There’s all these tiny details and every song just flows into one another.”

“Thanks, man. That means a lot. We kinda thought that having all the songs connect was sorta like, um, a stream of consciousness, essentially.” He started gesturing with his hands and you knew he was getting more comfortable. It almost made you smile. “Like, these thoughts all run together in a big loop. Like having one of those corkboards with all the evidence and red strings, you know? All of it just ends up running together and there’s no concrete answer. It just is.

“And, man. Jeff, Gareth, Grant, and Ronnie are just the best. They know me better than almost anyone and they seemed to automatically get what they needed to do. Just, like, boom, boom, boom. One after the other, we just got everything right. No one else helped produce this album and I think it shows just how much we’ve learned and evolved over our careers.” 

You felt something freeze inside you when the interviewer mentioned your name.

Eddie tried his best to seem unaffected, but you knew he was starting to squirm. You could see the top of his knee as it bounced.

“Are you two still together?” Marcus asked. “What’s the story there?”

Eddie’s eyes wandered the room, probably trying to calculate the best way to go. You selfishly wanted him to say nothing about the breakup, to refuse to confirm that it was truly over. 

He cleared his throat before scratching his temple. 

“My relationship with her is private and just between us. It always has. But I guess since I finally have a chance to say whatever I want to say, I want to make it very clear that the way the media has treated her has been just disgusting and unwarranted. She is not some plastic, shiny doll for everyone to point and laugh at."

Eddie then straightened his posture as he looked straight into the camera. "Oh, and let me be clear. If you’re sitting there talking about her bleeping body, then you are a piece of bleeping bleep and I hope you burn in hell.”  

Just like that, Marcus Sanderson moved on, the shot cutting away to a shot of the rest of the band sitting on a couch. But you weren’t listening anymore. Your head was swirling with a concoction of disbelief and epiphanies. Something…clicked.

Because you’d never had a partner mention you on a public scale. Never had a partner willing to scream your love from the top of the world and still retain privacy. Never had someone so willing to defend you despite your faults. Despite your arguments and downfalls.

And you were realizing that you…had done none of that for Eddie.

You’d sat there, in a dreamy haze because Eddie gave you everything he had. But had you really done any of those things back? Had you given him an ounce of what he gave you? 

You thought back to the AMAs, when you walked around your answers. Nearly yelled at him for standing up for you. Dropped his hand when he wanted to tell you how proud he was. Hell, you even broke up with him because of what other people said. He thought you wanted nothing from him, that you weren’t interested anymore. 

You never even said you loved him to his face.

You treated him exactly the way all your past partners treated you.

Eddie Munson had given you his world and you’d given him a fraction.

“I fucked up,” you whispered before you really processed what was happening. “I FUCKED UP!” you screeched, scrambling to stand up and check your phone. 

1:13am.

Immediately dropped it, watching it slide under the couch.

“FUCK!” you screamed again.

Dropping to your knees and enduring the carpet burn, you reached down and felt around for your phone. But you froze as you felt something else, something smaller in size. Pulled it out, recognizing Eddie’s lighter immediately. 

You flicked the lighter on, only encountering sparks the first two times. But when you watched it transform into a flame, something in your chest began to ache. It was the kindling of a once-wet fireplace, the first stroke of fire you’d felt in months. Teardrops fell freely down your chest as you found the will to fight.

Fight for what you knew you could never live without.

Fight for Eddie.

Give me back my lighter, any excuse to see you

Come running back, consider your exile foregone

Without any thought, you stuffed it into your top, found your phone, and popped up to search for some socks. Barely registered the color before yanking them on. You didn’t care how dressed up you were or how oily your face felt. How exhausted your body was or the residue of a crescent roll sticking to the side of your mouth.

You had to get to wherever Eddie was, and you had to get there now. If you didn’t talk to him tonight, you didn’t know if you’d make it to daylight.

But where was he?

The thought made you pause, hands shaking as you thought.

And before the panic could completely consume you, you called the one person who seemed to know everything.

“Woah, hello there.”

“Jeff.” 

“Hey, long time no see. Where you been?”

“Jeff, I’m sorry, but I really need you to tell me if Eddie is in California right now.”

“Uh, yeah, he is.” You tugged your white Keds on, breathing a sigh of relief. “He’s been holed up in his place for the last few days. Why?”

“I just need to talk to him,” you said, nearly out of breath as you started sprinting to the garage. “I need to talk to him.”

“Ever thought about calling?”

“Nope.”

Jeff’s laughter rang through the receiver. “You’re crazy, girl. I’ll give you that one.” A huff left your nose as you climbed into your car. “You gonna tell him you’re in love with him?”

“Yeah, yeah I am.”

“Finally.”

“Are you mad at me?” you asked, dreading any answer he’d give.

“Not at all. Just don’t leave him hanging this time, okay? He hasn’t been okay in a really long time.”

“Neither have I. I’m hoping to fix this and let it stay fixed.”

“Go get your man.”

As the garage door lifted, you noticed the pouring rain.

Of course it started fucking storming within the last hour and a half you’d been home. Of fucking course.

“Bye, Jeff,” you said quickly.

“Bye, girl!”

As you filed out of your driveway, a black SUV was already pulling out behind you. The protection was part of the job. You knew this. But sometimes, you just wanted to tell Scott that you had shit to do on your own.

But there was no time for this.

You just continued to drive, letting the soft hum of “The Long And Winding Road” by The Beatles lead you right back to the very place you knew you belonged.

“Scott,” James acknowledged.

“James.”

It felt like a showdown, Scott stepping in front of you at the gates. As soon as you’d arrived, you’d been prevented from pulling into the driveway. And it was James who’d crossed his arms over his dauntingly ripped chest, staring you down like you’d committed a crime.

You couldn’t blame him.

“What’s the situation?”

You tried not to roll your eyes. “I need to talk to Eddie.”

“It’s two in the morning. Kid finally fell asleep for once.”

“Let her in, James,” Scott said. “They’re people. Just let them figure it out on their own without us.”

“I really want to fix this,” you explained, earning a lifted eyebrow from James. “He’s everything to me and I know I screwed up. I know that. But I want to at least try to mend this. I’m a fucking idiot. Just…please.” Your eyes began to water. “Please let me try.”

James gave you a hard stare for what felt like ten minutes. Like he was assessing the risk. 

But then he opened the gate, stepping to the side. 

“Thank you,” you breathed, rushing past him to the door.

You knocked quite rapidly, your heartbeat matching the pace. Heard it pulse in your ears. Teetered on each foot as the adrenaline continued to catapult you further into madness. Waiting and waiting and waiting until— 

There he was, barely visible in the glow of the front porch light, eyes squinting. Messy curls frizzing, wearing a white t-shirt and gray sweatpants. No accessories, no socks on his feet.

It seemed like he finally registered it was you when he straightened his posture. Eddie gazed down at your body and back up again, eyes widening with every passing second. 

“Hey,” you finally whispered.

“Hey.”

bless @strangergraphics for always having the sickest dividers.

[cielie-voss]

I usually ignor ficus when I see rockstar!eddie but I’ve thought of something. What about reader x rockstar!eddie where you have worked with other bands before in some way so you know those members would never be reliable relationships so you avoided at all costs. But when Eddie meets you and falls hard. He tries so hard to make sure you see that he has never been and would never fall into that stereotype of a rockstar in those times of the 80s. He was truly only passionate about the music . Not even caring if he ever got famous. That’s not his intention like how most bands back then, their members goals were just to get their ducks wet by as many desperate groupies as possible.

So with you he really tries to win you over so hard, and finally you let your walls crumble for him and he really does prove to you exactly how truth he was from the moment he met you.

No sex and drugs - just rock'n'roll

Rockstar!Eddie Munson x guitarist!Reader

A/N: thank you so much for this request! Took me a while to figure out how I wanted it to be, started over 4 times and accidentally deleted my favorite attempt but here we are! 😄 Hope you like it! 🫶

Warnings: rockstar au, a little bit fluff, some kind of enemies to lovers, some curse words, alcohol consumption, drunk reader, mentions of reader being used by men, smoking, pizza with pineapple (I think this deserves to be mentioned here), not proofread.

Bonus points to everyone who notice my little easter eggs. 😅

Wordcount: 9.9k

Taglist: @violettsoul

If you want to be tagged in coming fanfics or if you want to request something, feel free to send me a dm or an ask. 🥰 Likes, comments and especially reblogs are always welcome. 🤗

Masterlist

The road called your name again.

Well, it wasn't exactly your name but rather the name of your and your cousins band - The Sleepless. You’ve been lying in your bed, awake, for at least two hours and watched the dust dancing like little fairies in the golden sunbeams, that successfully fought their way through the gap of your thick curtains.

Ironic, isn't it?

It was still early in the morning, the bustling life of the city was still deep in slumber, with only the occasional roar of an engine cutting through the silence. Unable to find the sweet bliss of some desperately needed sleep, you were alternately watching the fairies dancing in the gentle rays of the rising morning sun and the miserably slow ticking of your clock, which was enthroned above the door and of which you were not quite sure whether the time it showed was correct.

The shrill beeping of your alarm clock saved you from this never ending misery. You sat up and let your legs dangling off the edge of your bed for a moment as you stretched your back. Yawning, you slowly slid off the edge and dragged your feet over to the little corner you called kitchen.

The screeching of the floorboards echoed like a disgruntled sigh from the naked walls and the worn out carpet you had bought at a flea market ages ago offered little protection against the cold that radiated from the wooden floor and crept through your feet into your legs. You couldn't say exactly how long the heating had been broken, or whether it had ever worked at all. But the constant cold wasn't really bothersome for you, as rarely as you were in this apartment. And yet the thought of returning to your home after another stressful tour and not to another hotel room seemed much more appealing. Although a hotel room would be much more financially affordable than this apartment, which was furnished with mismatched furniture from flea markets, dried flowers on the windowsill and a tap that was like a round of Russian roulette - you never knew exactly when it would next decide to jump off the edge of the sink and give whoever dared to touch it an unwanted shower.

The smell of coffee slowly filled your little apartment. You watched the dark, steaming liquid as it dripped, drop by drop, into the oversized and absurdly ridiculous looking cup, the handle of which was too small, to stick a single finger through and was painted so hideously that it could almost be described as an abstract work of art. It would certainly have been pretty, with its unevenly sized flowers and smiley-faced butterflies that were almost creepy, if one had made even the slightest effort. But what blame could you possibly give your elementary school self for this trash? Drawing, let alone any other kind of craft, was never one of your strengths. The only thing your clumsy fingers could do was play the guitar.

After you gulped down your minimalistic breakfast, you rushed into your bathroom. The hot water ran down your body, washing the night from your skin as you hummed a new tune that had found its way into your mind and was gnawing there like a terrier.

“I have to write this down straight away,” you promised yourself, but as soon as you stepped out of the shower, now standing in the fog of your hellishly hot shower session, the melody escaped as quickly as it came.

Scowling, you got ready, plaited your wet y/h/c hair into a simple braid so it wouldn't stick across your face, slipped into your favorite jeans, a faded T-shirt and comfortable shoes that would carry you from gig to gig over the next few weeks. You threw a jacket over your shoulders, grabbed the suitcase, shouldered the guitar and let the door close behind you with a loud click. The keychain, which consisted of more pendants than keys, jingled loudly as you locked the door.

The hum of the city, now gradually awakening, echoed through the streets of Los Angeles; a soundtrack that accompanied your departure into a new adventure, a new tour. You would be away for some time again. But to be honest, your apartment never quite felt like home and probably never will. But what does home even mean? Oh boy, let’s not open this box.

Spending the time with your cousins, the three goofy guys you grew up with and were more like brothers for you, always felt more ‘home’ than being in your actual home.

When you reached the parking lot you were loudly greeted by your cousins, as if you hadn’t seen them in ages. But you haven’t seen them for only three days.

What drama queens …

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t hide the smile creeping upon your lips as all three of them tried to hug you at the same time.

“Whoa! Take care of that guitar!”, you admonished them laughing.

"Excellent!" Rick, the tour manager, clapped his hands as you joined the already waiting group. “Now that everyone’s here, we can finally get on the road. Are you guys excited?”

Oh god, that was too much enthusiasm for an early morning. And by the groaning of everyone else, you knew you weren’t alone with that opinion.

Your luggage was taken by the driver and stored into the bus that would be your home on wheels for the next few weeks. But as he was about to take your guitar, you pressed it against your chest, making clear it wasn’t going anywhere.

“Soooo,” someone snuck up behind you, “and you are the next Stevie Nicks they say, huh?”

You turned around and looked at a guy from the other band, Corroded Coffin. His face was framed by wild, dark curls and his brown eyes sparkled for a moment with something like delightful anticipation. A mischievous smile danced on his lips as he cocked his head and examined you closely from head to toe.

"Well, I wouldn't dare say that," His eyes snapped back up to your face when your soft voice sounded, "But I think I can fairly say that at least I won't be the next Cyndi Lauper." Was that a joke you had just made? You weren't necessarily the kind of person who cracked a lot of jokes, as a lot of people didn't understand your type of humor. But the guy in denim jeans and studded belt seemed to unexpectedly appreciate your humor.

"God forbid! The world wouldn’t be able to tolerate another horribly squeaky voice like that. Not to mention those ridiculous lyrics. I mean - " He cleared his throat and narrowed his eyes as if quoting the lyrics would cause him physical pain, " - The hour is late, don't you want me baby? Through your garden gate. Really? I even write better lyrics when I'm drunk." A hoarse giggle escaped his throat and you couldn't suppress a shy giggle either.

“Hi, I’m Eddie,” he introduced himself without further ado, relieved that you also seemed to find his joke funny, and offered you his hand.

“I’m Y/N, nice to meet you Eddie.” You shook his hand and couldn't help but notice the fancy rings that adorned his fingers. But before you had the chance to take a closer look at them, Chad, your cousin and drummer of your band, hurried you inside the bus.

A brief fight about who would take which bunk broke out among your cousins. But instead of joining their childish behavior, you simply threw your guitar on the bunk you found most appealing.

“Hey!” Doug, the lead singer and oldest member of the band declared upset. “That’s not fair! Who said you could just claim that bunk!”

“Isn’t it ‘Ladies first’?”, you asked, smirking as you let yourself down on the rigid mattress.

“Oh come on, you’re not a lady,” he laughed but you just shrugged, not even thinking about giving up your bunk. You heard a muttered ‘Princess’ from them as you began to make yourself comfortable, but you couldn’t care less. Being the only female sometimes had its perks.

Since it was still early in the morning, you decided to take a nap, but the smell of coffee woke you up after an hour, followed by Cliff’s “Good morning, Sleeping Beauty.”

“Oh, please Cliff, don’t give her a reason to think she’s an actual beauty.”

“Shut up, Doug,” you sighed but took the cup Cliff handed to you. You took a sip of the steaming hot coffee and wrapped your hands around the cup.

“So when’s the next stop?”, you wanted to know after you took a look at your watch.

After Chad studied the leaflet with the exact time schedule of the tour, he answered: “We should be at the location tomorrow morning at 8 am.” He turned the piece of paper, trying to find any other information. “God, I hope we’ll take a break soon. I won’t survive without a cigarette until tomorrow morning.”

To everyone's relief, later that day the buses pulled over to a rather abandoned parking lot for a quick break. Being crammed up in a bus for hours with you slightly hyperactive and childish older cousins could be seen as some sort of torture. From burping contests to silly bickering, you weren’t spared of the usual bullshit today. So when the bus stopped and the door opened, you literally fled outside. The fresh air filled your lungs and you thanked god for the break. You loved your cousins, really, but they could be a nuisance.

“Finally managed to escape the madness, huh?” You could hear the smile in the voice of the guy who sneaked up on you. You weren’t expecting someone to come up to you for a chat, so the sudden sound of this guys voice startled you.

“Jesus christ!”, you screeched out in surprise and turned around to see Eddie's amused face.

“You can call me Eddie,” he winked at you. “Little jumpy, huh? Adorable.”

“Are you done with this?” You weren’t on the road for a day and yet the Rockstar was trying to flirt with you. Must be a new record.

“What? I - uh,” Eddie stuttered surprised, his eyebrows curled up in a frown.

“Oh, so you already met.” To your surprise, it was Cliff who saved you from another flirting attempt from Eddie. You were about to answer ‘Unfortunately’ but figured this would probably ruin this whole trip beforehand. So you decided to just nod and shut your mouth.

You hated rock stars. Ironic, huh? Since you were the guitarist and singer of a band, soon to be a rockstar too. Most of the guys didn’t care a lot about the music as soon as they got famous. The moment they were cheered by fangirls, all they cared about was to get as many girls as possible into bed. They never missed the opportunity for a small, insignificant quickie, took advantage of their status to get women into bed, only to then push them out of bed after a short bit of fun in order to seek confirmation from the next slut. Playing with women to boost their egos was more important to them than their music, the one thing they got famous for. At some point, you thought they just used music to get famous so they could bang sluts; it wasn’t about music from the beginning. And now, here was Eddie, seemingly just like the rest of them, with his charm and his smile, trying to play the same game. But you weren't going to fall for it. Bitches always know, and you weren't about to become another notch on his bedpost. You were pretty sure he was just another one of those bastards, flirting with you for his own amusement and validation, to eventually get you into bed like so many others before.

In the last few years that you had been working in the music industry, you had experienced many pick-up attempts from a number of musicians. Both when you initially accompanied the bands as an assistant to the tour manager and during your recent time as an opening act with your band; you were not spared the pick-up lines.

In the beginning, when everything was still so new and exciting, you went for it, felt flattered and unfortunately fell for the charm of some of the musicians. It would probably be an exaggeration to say you fell head over heels in love, but at least a handful of the musicians swept you off your feet. But every time you had to painfully learn anew that musicians, especially rock stars like Eddie, were all bastards. Sex, drugs and rock'n'roll - that was the motto they lived by.

Obviously, your aversion to rock stars was merely a reaction to the many times you had been hurt, exploited and betrayed. Painfully, you had to learn time and time again that it was probably a pathological habit of these guys to use women to confirm their tiny egos and were incapable of anything like a lasting relationship. And this Eddie was no exception.

“Y/N, this is Jeff, he plays the bass,” Cliff pointed at the guy next to him, a tall guy with dark skin and a smile as sweet as honey, “Jeff, this is Y/N, she’s our guitarist and second singer.”

Jeff shook your hand, “Nice to meet you, Y/N.”

“Nice to meet you, too,” you told him, ignoring Eddie next to you, who was not so patiently waiting to chime in. Jeff noticed his friend's urge to say something, but with a smile he continued to talk to you.

“Now you just have to meet Gareth, he’s our drummer, and Grant, one of our guitarists. And Eddie,” he points at the fidgety guy next to you, “is our singer and lead guitarist.”

Before Eddie could say anything, Rick called out to get back into the buses.

“Alright, see you later.”, Cliff said and, with you in tow, hurried back to your bus and waved Jeff and Eddie goodbye.

The next day you played your first show of the tour, the prelude of this adventure. And it was a great success. The crowd was hyped, thrilled to see your band perform before Corroded Coffin entered the stage. By far, this show was the best one you’ve had. Adrenaline flooded your body as you hopped off the stage after the last song. You were soaring higher and higher on the feeling, an addicting mixture of dopamine and endorphins.

“What was that?” Doug, excitedly jumping up and down, looked at you with wide eyes.

You mirrored his smile and tried to find the right words to sum up what just happened.

“That was absolutely insane!”, yelled Cliff out. He laid his arm around your shoulders and pulled you closer to place a kiss at the crown of your head. “You were incredible! And that solo?” Cliff let go of you. He raised his hands to his head, fingers splayed out, and mimicked the motion of his mind exploding. His palms hovered inches away from his temples as he widened his eyes in astonishment, as if trying to contain the explosion of thoughts within his skull. You started to giggle, touched by your cousin's excitement about your freestyled solo.

“I really hope you remember what you did up there. Brillant!” Thankfully you took the beer Chad handed you. “I swear to god, when this tour won’t be our breakthrough, I’ll be damned.”

For the rest of the show you stayed backstage with Chad, while Doug and Cliff roamed around the venue, drinking beer, celebrating, and probably trying to flirt with some girls. You sipped at your cool beer and wiped away the sweat on your skin with a towel Chad threw at you. The high slowly subsided. But you had to agree with Chad; you could literally sense how this tour might be your last step before your big breakthrough. Satisfied you laid back in the small armchair backstage and spent the time talking with Chad as long as Corroded Coffin were on the stage.

After Eddie and his band had to play bonus track after bonus track, they finally left the stage. The time schedule was very tight knit, which left you no time to stay and relax. As soon as the crowd left the venue, you quickly gathered your stuff and stowed away everything in the buses. A quick ‘Great show’ was all the bands interacted with each other before they disappeared into their home on wheels, carrying them to the next location.

The next shows were no different to the first one; success after success. Your fan base grew, you were asked for autographs, fans bought your merchandise and wanted to take a photo with ‘The Sleepless’. Everything felt like a dream.

“I think Eddie really has his eyes on you,” Chad whispered to you with a mischievous grin when, during the sound check, he spotted Eddie walking up and down next to the stage, hidden behind the sound boxes, trying to catch a glimpse of you. Annoyed, you rolled your eyes and changed your position without comment, under the pretense of tuning the guitar undisturbed.

One evening, after another successful show, you had the chance to stay at the venue, no time schedule stressing you to leave the town right away. You were sitting at the bar and drinking some beer. Before you went back to the hotel, you wanted to take the time to chat with Corroded Coffin.

Eddie rocked back and forth indecisively, the label on the beer bottle in his hand hanging in shreds after he rubbed it nervously throughout the last twenty minutes. He was fascinated by you, your demeanor, your humor, your talent, not to mention your beauty. But he was also confused by your cold, dismissive manner towards him. So he gathered his courage, clutched his beer bottle. As you were casually chatting with Gareth, Eddie approached you from behind, trying to appear as cool and collected as possible.

“So, um… Do you like raccoons?” As soon as the words left his mouth, he could have slapped himself for it. What was that supposed to be? Cringing about his failed attempt at gaining your attention, Eddie frowned.

You paused for a moment, trying to figure out if your mind was just playing some tricks on you. Luckily you couldn’t see Gareth’s amused grin, deriding his friend's horrible attempt to flirt with you.

"What?" Eyebrows raised, you turned her head in Eddie’s direction, thinking that you probably misheard what he said over the loud music. Because nobody would ever think of starting a conversation with “Do you like raccoons” right?

“Oh, uh … nevermind.” Embarrassed by his defeat, Eddie turned around, leaving you and Gareth alone again.

“Dude, what was that?” Jeff hissed as Eddie sat back down next to him at the bar.

“I have absolutely no idea,” Eddie whined, burying his face in his hands.

The evening wore on and the more Eddie drank, the more confident he became until he plucked up the courage to talk to you again. His gaze lingered on you a little too long as he waited until you were alone again and he could shoot his shot. After Gareth left you, Eddie took a deep breath and took his chance.

“Your performance was really good. You are so talented,” he let you know, as casually as discussing the weather. There was a lot of nervousness bubbling under his cool facade, but he was able to hide it surprisingly well.

“Thanks.” Your answer was short and might have come out ruder than you intended. Without even looking at him, you sipped your drink. Eddie felt himself continuing to run into the walls you had built around you. So he tried again.

“You have a really nice guitar. You rarely see such gems on a stage.”

Sighing, you put the glass down and turned to him. For a brief moment, a spark of hope flickered within him as your eyes met his. You were just about to give him a rather sarcastic answer when he spoke up again.

“I would really be happy if I could get to know you a bit. I mean, we've been traveling together for a while now, so I'd like to know who I'm dealing with." For better or worse, you had to agree with him. After a moment's consideration, you nodded in agreement.

So Eddie cautiously tried to get to know you. At the beginning you were rather shy and your answers were short. After a few minutes, however, you thawed out a bit and Eddie allowed himself to make a joke or two that surprisingly made you smile.

“What do you do in your free time, when you’re not out and about making music?” Interested, he leaned forward, rested his elbows on the counter and literally sank into the depths of your eyes.

You thought for a brief moment before answering him. “I'm trying to recover from the tours and unpleasant flirtations of horny rock stars.” With a wink, you leaned back, eager to hear his answer.

“Oh come on, touring with a rock band can’t be that bad,” he replied incredulously. You raised an eyebrow almost defiantly.

“You think so?” You snorted disdainfully. “Oh, you have no idea what it's like to tour in the wake of a rock star. Besides the crappy hotels, poor pay and miserably long bus tours, someone like me has to put up with the constant bragging about who's the band's biggest player." With a teasing grin, you tilted your head and slowly ran your finger along the rim of the glass.

“Between all the…how do I best put this?” You narrowed your eyes and seemed to think. “Between all the meet-and-greets, there’s hardly any room to rest. If you know what I mean. Sex, drugs and rock’n’roll.” You raised the glass to your lips again and as you sipped at the drink, you looked Eddie almost challengingly in the eyes.

Eddie held your gaze, felt challenged and saw his chance to win you over. Just don't make any mistakes now.

“You know, maybe you just need the right rock star to change your mind,” he countered playfully, lowering his voice. “I would rather spend my time on the couch with a good book than with groupies at a wild party.”

“Oh really?” you replied incredulously, voice dripping with sarcasm. You liked playing the game, maybe even making him think he had a chance with you. A game of cat and mouse, except that it wasn't entirely clear who was the cat and who was the mouse.

"Oh yeah!" He confirmed his statement exuberantly and nodded eagerly. “It’s a lot more rock‘n’relax, you know?”

You snorted, barely hiding a giggle. “Rock’n’Relax, yeah?” You looked at him skeptically with a lopsided smile. “No scandals? No wild parties? No paparazzi madness? That almost sounds too good to be true. You’re like the last unicorn in a herd of wild donkeys.” You leaned forward a little and let a strand of your y/h/c hair slide between your fingers.

Eddie felt like he had found a small crack in your wall. With a triumphant smile on his lips, he took another sip of beer.

“You know,” he put the bottle back on the counter, “to be honest, I don’t really care. Just because I'm famous doesn't change my passion for music. For me it was never about anything other than my music and not about fame.” Confident of victory, he enjoyed the moment in which you looked at him admiringly, not knowing that you were just playing with him, the way everyone had always played with you before. Encouraged by your feigned affection, he took the next step.

“You know, maybe we should continue this conversation somewhere else. In a nice restaurant perhaps? Just you and me. What do you think of that, hmm?”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Not gonna happen, Munson.” There was something mocking in your voice as you stood up and patted him on the shoulder before leaving the club. He watched you leave, speechless and confused. What just happened? Was he caught up in a bad dream? No, one look at his friends, who were looking at him just as stunned, he knew that he couldn't have dreamed that.

The first stop of your next ten hour journey was early in the morning. You were given a good 15 minutes to stretch your feet, smoke or just get some fresh air.

Half-awake, you strolled across the rest area with a steaming cup of coffee and joined Chad and Cliff, who were smoking by one of the trash cans.

With a grin, Chad noticed Eddie trying to get close to you unnoticed. ��Look, your shadow is already awake too,” he teased whispering, nodding in Eddie’s direction.

“God, this guy just won’t leave me alone,” you moaned and squeezed your tired eyes shut in annoyance, which was a dangerous endeavor, since you feared you might not be able to open your eyes again.

"How come? He’s quite nice, isn’t he?” Cliff objected.

“He’s a rock star. And they’re all the same,” you replied wearily. "Superficial. Arrogant. Narcissistic. And oh, very important; They fuck everything that’s female and has two legs just to reinforce their puny ego that they’re the hottest.”

“Woah! Hold on, hold on," Chad interjected laughing. “Seems like someone's gotten out of the wrong side of bed this morning.”

“Oh come on, it’s true,” you whispered and looked at your cousin, pressing the warming cup of coffee against your chest in a poor attempt to warm yourself. “Every band I’ve worked with so far has, without exception, been out to meet as many groupies as they can.”

Both rolled with their eyes, ready to say something, but were silenced by Rick's voice. “Okay, everyone, break is over! We need to move on!”

Sighing you shambled back to your bus, hoping to get some more time to doze off in your little bunk before your slightly hyperactive cousins would return to their typical banter and bullshit, keeping you awake and denying you the rest you needed.

“Why don't you just give him a chance?”, Chad groaned and plumped down on the beanbag.

Cliff climbed up into the bus and agreed with his brother. “Yeah, he seems to be a nice guy.”

“I really have to agree with them. You should give him a chance. I don't see what your problem is anyway.” Doug’s voice echoed from the small bathroom of the bus.

You dramatically rolled your eyes and sighed. Didn't they see how all your ‘just give him a chance’ romances ended? It's like they forgot about all the times your heart was broken, all the times you’ve been used and played with, like none of that ever happened.

“Because,” you started, almost sounding like a teacher, “Rockstars are assholes.” The eyes of your cousins followed your every move as you crouched down in front of the little fridge, searching for some milk for your coffee. There was no chance they’d shut up to let you sleep, so you could just as well down another coffee to wake up the rest of your body.

“Well, the four Armenian guys we played with a few months ago didn't seem to be assholes. You spent a lot of the time with them. Like … a lot!”, Doug said with special emphasis on the last part of his sentence after coming out of the bathroom. And he was right. You did enjoy the time with these four weirdos from L.A. on your last tour.

“Yeah,” you huffed and filled your cup with the worst coffee you’ve ever had, “‘cause they were stoned the whole time and wanted me to help them with their make-up!”

The three guys looked at each other but eventually nodded in agreement. “Yeah, okay, totally forgot about that.” Cliff acknowledged.

For a moment there was silence. An awkward kind of silence and you felt like you won. Maybe you could unexpectedly get a few more minutes of sleep? Until Chad started this discussion all over again. “But what if he’s different?”

You groaned in annoyance at your cousin's remark and laid your head back. “Oh. My. Fucking. God!”, you hissed through gritted teeth. “Why do you desperately want to -” Mid Sentence you stopped, an idea shooting up in your mind. With wide eyes, and a nearly insane look on your face, you glared at them. “Now I see it. I can see it pretty clearly!”

“What are you talking about?” Chad’s question let you twirl around. You pointed your finger at him, sensing a conspiracy. But it could’ve been the caffeine in your blood as well, you didn’t know but it didn’t matter anyway.

“You guys want me to fuck with him! You want me to fuck with him, so we might get some publicity for our band!”

“Bullshit! No one wants you to fuck with him.”, Chad huffed with a frown, offended by your suspicion and shook his head.

“Unless you want to fuck with him. You know, you’re an adult, you’re responsible for your own actions and who are we to tell you -” You interrupted Doug quickly.

“Okay! Okay! Could we stop discussing my non-existing sexlife? Please? I’m not gonna fuck any Rockstar at all.” You sat back down on the little sofa and sipped your coffee. “Rockstars are just horny little assholes with little egos. All they ever want is to get their ducks wet by as many desperate groupies as possible, just to boost their ego. Sex, Drugs and Rock’n’Roll - that’s all they ever want.”

“Oh come on, Y/N/N, not everyone in this industry is like that,” Cliff tried to calm you down, unsuccessfully.

“Not everyone, but an incredibly large amount of them are and I’m not willing to go through all of that bullshit again to find out who might not be like the rest. End of discussion.” You downed the coffee and stood up to get some alone time in your somewhat cozy bunk, where you would stay for the rest of the drive.

“Oh, and don’t ever call me Y/N/N again. I’m not eight anymore.”

When you arrived at the club where you were scheduled to perform that evening, it was pouring rain. The thick raindrops splashing against the window panes had a calming effect on you, always has. To pass the time while Rick was dealing with the hotel, which had canceled the reservations for some unknown reason, you made yourself comfortable on one of the padded benches in the entrance area of the hotel and soon closed your eyes. You let the patter of the rain lull you like a gentle massage.

“Could you please stop staring at me like that all the time?” You didn't have to open your eyes to notice Eddie, sitting in a chair just a few steps away from you, watching you and thinking you wouldn't notice.

“I uh…” He felt caught red-handed and nervously jumped up from his seat. Giggling, you opened your eyes and looked at him.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…”

“Stare at me like a creep?” you interrupted his stuttering. He nodded sheepishly.

“Listen, I would really like to get to know you,” he began after taking a deep breath and sitting down in the chair right next to you. “I'm really serious, no games. I’m not one of those cliche rock stars, believe me.” You also sat up and looked at him. Skepticism flashed in your eyes.

“Please give me a chance to prove to you that I’m serious. I would really like to know who you are off stage. Just an honest conversation, you and me.” Eddie looked at you pleadingly, with big, round puppy-dog eyes that, to be honest, no one could resist. But you hesitated for a moment, indecisive if you should dare to trust him and give him a chance.

“Please, Y/N.” You could tell from his look that he really was being serious. Every single fiber of your being screamed ‘no’, your instinct screamed at you not to trust him, but eventually you gave in.

"One chance." When you finally gave him the opportunity to prove himself his face lit up. “Really just one chance. I've had enough of being played with by guys like you. You have one single chance to convince me that you’re not the kind of rock star that just uses women. Don't make me regret my decision.”

“You won’t regret it, promised,” he solemnly swore, excitedly holding out his pinky for the sacred pinky promise.

“I hope so for your own safety,” you admonished him and sealed the promise. Was this really the right decision?

Later that evening, after another incredible show, Eddie approached you, a wide, excited grin painted on his face. His friends watched him from a distance, ready to help him if needed.

“Hey, Y/N!” He snuck up on you from behind and slung his arm around your shoulders. Was the touching already too much? Too intrusive?

“Oh, hey, there’s your shadow again,” Chad winked at you. “I’ll leave you two alone then.” Laughing, he turned away from you and followed Cliff and Doug to the bar.

“That was a good show, huh?” Still high on the evening's success, he grinned broadly at you. “The best show we've had so far!”

"Oh yeah, especially considering all the screaming and bra-throwing fangirls," you told him with a sarcastic tone that immediately wiped the smile off his face.

"What? No, that… well -” Again he burst into incomprehensible babble, which was probably intended to be an apology or justification.

Laughing, you placed a hand on his arm. "Eddie, that was a joke," you explained.

“Oh, yeah, uh - a joke,” he stammered, still a little taken aback. “Shall we maybe eat something?”

“Eat something?” you asked and looked at your watch. “It's almost half past one. In the morning."

Shrugging his shoulders, he replied: “Some pizza place will be open by now, don’t you think?”

Miraculously, the two of you actually found a rather shabby pizza place that was open at that time. Between a few drunks stumbling out of discos and the smell of greasy food, you found a small table in the corner. While you waited for the pizzas, you observed the unusually lively hustle and bustle in this small diner and were thoroughly amused by the unsuccessful attempts of a drunk German tourist who wanted to order his pizza in Italian from the Pakistani-born owner.

“Really? Pineapple on pizza?” Disgust was written all over Eddie's face as the waiter brought your order.

“What? Believe me, this is the best combo. You have to try it!” Laughing you grabbed a piece and held it up to his face. With a scrunched up nose he tried to get away from your rather pushy attempt to make him try the pineapple pizza.

“Come on! You have to try it, trust me.” Still giggling you looked at Eddie, his eyes darting between you and the piece of pizza, dangerously near his lips. He weighed his options for a moment until he decided to give it a try. With a frown he sighed but leaned forward to take a bite. As he chewed you looked at him expectantly and waited for a reaction. It took him a few seconds until his face lit up. “Well, it’s not that bad actually, but I wouldn’t call this ‘the best combo’,” he shrugged, causing you to roll your eyes.

“Yeah, okay Mister Gourmet,” you jested and moved aside on the bench to get away from him in a playful manner, acting pouty. “You obviously don’t have a good taste.”

“I don’t have a good taste?!” The expression on his face was theatrically offended.

“Yeah, you don’t have a good taste. But it’s my fault, sorry, I should’ve known it already the first time you tried to flirt with me.” You shrugged and returned your attention to your pretty oily pizza. Eddie, however, couldn't turn his eyes away from you. With his mouth wide open in shock, trying to find the right words, you couldn’t help but notice that he looked like a fish out of water. Grinning to yourself you continued to ignore him until he finally found his voice again.

“What?”, was everything he was able to get out. “What?!”

As you were trying to grab another piece of pizza he shoved the plate away from you, forcing you to look at him. “I have no taste because I think you are fucking cute and talented and gorgeous?”, he summed up your sarcastic remarks.

“Oh please, you don’t honestly think I’m cute or gorgeous or anything,” you snorted, leaning back on the sticky bench, knowing damn well he wouldn’t make it easy for you to get your pizza back. “You just want to flatter me because you want to end up in bed with me like the guys before you.”

Still in shock he stared at you. “No, no, no. Hold on.” Eddie gently turned your head by placing his index finger on your chin so you had to look at him. “You still think all I wanna do is lure you into bed?” He waited in vain for you to reply, but all you did was look down at the dirty table.

“Listen, Y/N, I really want to get to know you. Not like the assholes before. I wasn’t joking when I told you I care more about my music than being famous. Even if I wasn’t famous, you would still be that girl I desperately would want to spend my time with, okay? I couldn’t imagine someone more perfect than you. I would gladly give up everything I have just to get to know you. I don’t believe that anybody feels the way I do about you now, Y/N.” Eddie's voice was soft but determined. You could feel that he was being honest with you, not joking around or acting up just to lure into bed.

All this time you were played with, and not just your time in the music industry but the years at school too, you were so used to only getting a guy's attention because he wanted one thing. But as soon as you made it clear to whoever was shooting his shot, you were nothing more than garbage to them. So it was pretty much understandable that getting compliments or even the slightest attention from someone made you hide behind your wall you built around you to protect you. In your own mind you were worthless, no one would actually want to get to know you.

“Eddie, I’m sorry,” you whispered after some quiet moments, finally looking up into his eyes again. “I’m just not used to all of this.”

“That’s okay,” he reassured you. “Well, honestly it’s not okay, because it seems like you’ve been treated like an object before and that’s not okay. But it’s okay that you’re insecure. Let me help you, okay? Let me show you not everyone is like this. I really want you to see what I see when I look at you or hear you sing or simply hear your laugh.” He moved closer to you again, closing the gap you created before. “You can trust me, okay? I won’t hurt you or play with your feelings or anything.”

You just sat there for a moment, your pizzas already turning cold, while a battle raged within you. On one hand, there was the overwhelming desire to trust Eddie, to believe his kind words and let him in. But on the other hand, there was the lingering fear, the scars of past betrayals and heartaches, whispering caution in your ear. Anxiety gnawed at your insides, reminding you of all the times you had been let down and used. It was a struggle between the longing for connection and the instinct to protect yourself from further pain.

As Eddie's warmth enveloped you, a part of you wanted to surrender to the comfort he offered, to allow yourself to be vulnerable in his presence. But another part hesitated, clinging to the safety of your walls, wary of the vulnerability that came with trust.

Eddie's gentle touch and reassuring words began to chip away at your defenses, offering a glimmer of hope amidst the darkness of your doubts. Could he truly be different? Could he be the one to break the cycle of hurt and disappointment? Or was he just another one to kick you in the back, to play with your feelings just for his amusement?

Eddie sensed you might need a hug, someone to hold you tight and make you feel somehow safe. “Is it okay if I lay my arm around you?”, he carefully asked. You needed a second to muster your courage and finally nodded. Eddie laid his arm around your shoulders and gently pulled you closer. As you leaned into his embrace, a flicker of hope ignited within you, tentative but undeniable. Perhaps, just perhaps, this time would be different.

“I don’t care what you’ve been told by these pricks. All I know is I want to spend my time with you and make some music, nothing else matters,” he whispered into your ear.

Slowly you began to let your walls crumble down, bit by bit. This kind of safety was something you hadn’t felt in quite some time and you nearly forgot what it was like to hold on to somebody. There was still a voice in the back of your head, admonishing you to keep your defense up just in case, because no one could ever really like you, right? You were always the second choice, why should it be different this time?

Time seemed to fly by as you were lost in Eddie's warm embrace and soon you were told to leave by the owner of the diner, it was closing time. You already forgot about the pizza, with all the grease they were disgusting anyway.

“Come on, sweetie, let’s get back.” Eddie stood up and held out a hand for you. For a second you looked at his hand, his calloused fingers and the chunky rings adorning them, unable to decide if you should accept his offer to hold your hand. But without your heart's consent you eventually grabbed his hand, intertwining your fingers with his. Eddie cast you a reassuring smile, proud you overcame your doubts.

After that evening you slowly began to trust Eddie. He brought you coffee in the morning, smiling like an idiot at your grumbled insults; even though you were the complete opposite of a morning person, he found your rather grumpy attitude inexplicably endearing. You spent the breaks together, and to your cousin's great confusion, you laughed at his jokes and found yourself drawn to his incredibly mesmerizing and warm eyes. And when you were exhausted and didn’t feel like talking, he simply sat next to you and enjoyed your presence. Sometimes he would play some melodies on his guitar for you or read to you out of some crappy books he bought at a gas station; he always picked the ones with the most ridiculous titles or covers.

Your little pizza dates after your shows quickly became some sort of tradition whenever you had the chance to stay in the city for the night, giggling at the drama of the drunk’s around you. Soon he began to appreciate your choice of pizza, stealing pieces of your pineapple pizza when you weren’t looking.

He truly was the sweetest guy you ever met. Eddie managed to make you laugh when you felt like never laughing again. He made you feel valued. He made you feel important. When you were on the stage you found Eddie either right beside the stage or in the front row, cheering, screaming, as if you were the greatest rockstar on earth. And when he was on the stage his eyes were glued to your face wherever you were standing. He always found you, the rest of the crowd disappearing for him; there was nothing more important to him than to see your smile while he performed.

As a sign of love and affection he let you play with his lucky pick while you gave him your favorite lighter.

Time flew by, you and Eddie were literally glued together which started to annoy the rest of your bands. You weren’t spared the mocking and teasing comments of your cousins and even Eddie had to deal with bad jokes from his friends. Some weeks had passed, all your doubts and worries vanished and you enjoyed your time with Eddie. There were innocent touches, his hand brushing yours when you walked next to each other or crossed paths backstage between you performances, hugs whenever you were alone, he even held you hand under the table when you were at a restaurant with everyone else.

One evening you found yourself outside of the club for a smoke to calm down your nerves. During your band's performance there were a few dickheads trying to sabotage the gig, hollering insults and booing because they thought your band was crap. So you stood outside, the cool air of the night wrapped around your body and literally cooling down the racing thoughts that started to pull you down again. You took a deep, shaky breath, the smoke filling your lungs. As you inhaled the smoke, your eyes fluttered shut and you held your breath for a moment before releasing a little cloud of tobacco smoke into the night sky. The buzz of pleasure combined with the slight flash of adrenaline and energy rushing through your body were slowly numbing your mind.

“That shit could kill you, you know?” The voice pulled you out of your trancelike state. You opened your eyes and turned your head just to find Eddie, sneaking up behind you out of the dark.

“So does life and yet here we are,” you taunted, shrugging your shoulders and taking another drag. “Aren’t you supposed to get on stage by now?”, you stated after taking a look at your watch.

“Yeah, but the security is currently busy with removing some shitheads that insulted my favorite person,” he declared casually and took away the cigarette that bounced between your lips. You looked at him with a raised eyebrow as you watched him taking a deep breath, smoke filling his lungs, before he handed you the cigarette.

“You didn’t -” you stated flabbergasted.

“Of course I did.”, he huffed, releasing the smoke, and looked down on you. “A behavior like that is not appropriate and should not be tolerated.”

You shook your head and took back your cigarette he offered back to you. “Moron,” you whispered and couldn’t contain your laughter.

“I’ll gladly be your moron,” he winked at you before returning back inside for his performance.

You stayed in Indianapolis for two more days after your show before moving on with your tour. Rick allowed you to take a short break there to relax and recover from the stressful tour life. And with Chad’s birthday right around the corner you and your other cousins decided to spend the whole day together, so you informed Eddie that you would be away for the day.

This day felt like childhood again, exploring the city, visiting a museum and going to a mall in the afternoon to shop for some new clothes. Later in the evening you wanted to celebrate Chad’s birthday at a pub, the only thing that didn’t feel like childhood.

Before you headed to the pub you wanted to change your clothes and freshen up a bit, maybe you could even say hi to Eddie since you hadn’t talked to him for the whole day. As you knocked on his hotel room door you were disappointed with silence. Maybe he was out with his friends too? You sighed and hurried into your room to change. But when you excitedly exited the elevator and caught a glimpse of Eddie, your heart skipped a beat and shattered into a million pieces. It was like a rope wrapped around your chest and with every breath and every heartbeat it got tighter and tighter, making it nearly impossible to keep on breathing. Everything around you seemed to freeze, moving in slow motion as your eyes followed Eddie and the girl next to him.

Ouch.

He had slung his arm around her shoulder and as he leaned closer to whisper something into her ear, you could see the huge smile on his lips. Seeing them laughing and being pretty close felt like someone pierced your heart with a million daggers. Just when they disappeared into the elevator you were finally able to catch your breath again, nearly hyperventilating.

Like being stuck in a nightmare where you couldn’t wake up from, you couldn’t get the picture of Eddie and this beautiful light-brown haired girl out of your head. You didn’t know how long you stood there and stared at the place where Eddie and his groupie vanished into the elevator, but judging by the concerned expression on Dougs face you must’ve been in your trance for quite some time.

“Y/N?”, he asked multiple times and after you hadn’t shown a reaction to his attempts to catch your attention, he tugged at the sleeve of your jacket. “Hello?! Earth to Y/N?!”

This snapped you out of your thoughts. “What?”

“God, Y/N, what’s wrong with you?”, he asked and shook his head. “We’re late, let’s go.” And with that you left the lobby.

Although you tried to distract yourself from the spiteful voices in your head and the images of Eddie and this girl doing whatever in his hotelroom, you were unsuccessful. Your mood was at its lowest and after Cliff noticed your discomfort and asked if you're alright, you tried to drink away this overthinking and obstinate voice inside of your mind.

Downing one drink after another, your mood finally started to light up. You danced, laughed and got drunk. After not even two hours you were completely wasted and your mind blacked out. You vaguely remembered seeing Eddie in the lobby as Chad brought you back to the hotel and that you threw a pillow at him, followed by some slurred insults. Luckily Chad could hold you back before you had the chance to jump at Eddie's throat. Whereas your drunken state probably would’ve made any attempt to jump at Eddie unsuccessful. As Chad dragged you into the elevator, you growled “Fuck off and leave me alone. Don’t you dare to ever talk to me again” after Eddie confusedly tried to find out what had happened.

Somehow you ended up in your bed with a bucket next to your nightstand, just in case.

A knock on your door woke you up eventually, but opening your sleepy eyes was a strenuous act. You tried to rub away the sleep from your eyes, as it knocked a second time.

“Good morning, princess,” Eddie’s voice came chirping from the other side of the door. “Wake up. It’s time to get up and get ready for the day!”

An exasperated groan escaped your throat and you looked at the door, wondering if you should just ignore him, tell him to fuck off, or give him a chance to explain himself for the sake of the tour.

As he knocked a third time, you sighed and squeezed your eyes, already regretting your decision.

“Do you have coffee?” You had no other choice, your tired mind and hungover body were desperately in need of caffeine.

“Open the door and find out!” he cooed and no one could have overheard the smug grin in his voice. He was still confused about what your encounter last night meant, but he hoped you just had been drunk. Most people he knew tend to become aggressive under the influence of alcohol, maybe you were one of them?

“God, a simple yes or no would have been enough.” Slowly you got out of bed and slipped in one of your hoodies.

Eddie was the last person you wanted to see right now, but you were too tempted by the prospect of a steaming hot coffee. So you dragged yourself to the door, unlocked it and carefully opened. And there he was, leaning against the doorframe, a mustache painted on his face, with what you suspected was eyeliner, and the desired cup of coffee in his hand. Unimpressed, you stared at him for a moment.

“Bonjour Mademoiselle,” he said with a bad french accent, seemingly trying to be funny, and wiggled his eyebrows, as if nothing had happened last night. You kept your unimpressed expression, even though this sight was kind of hilarious.

“I’m fucking mad at you,” you grabbed the cup and held it to your chest. “And that mustache looks ridiculous.”

“What? But what did I do?”, he protested.

“Thanks for the coffee.” Without further ado you closed the door again.

“Please, tell me what I did wrong and let me apologize.” Eddies voice was desperate as he begged you to explain to him what he did to upset you like this.

The warmth of the coffee spread through your body and life seemingly came back into your hurting limbs after you took a sip. Should you really enlighten him? Should you really give him a chance to apologize? You already gave him a chance, he fucked it up and now acted like he didn’t know what he did wrong. If he didn’t know what he did, how should you accept his apology? How could an apology be honest without even knowing what the problem was? If he didn't realize on his own what he had done wrong, how could he regret it and apologize?

That’s just not working.

And that made you furious. Driven by caffeine, anger and the residue alcohol in your system, you yanked the door open and glared at him. “You told me, yeah, you PROMISED me, you were different, not like the other rock stars who play with girls. You begged me to give you a chance to prove you really wanted to get to know me. What a wicked thing to say, you never felt this way. I never dreamed that I’d love somebody like you,” you hissed through gritted teeth and put the cup of coffee down at the dresser next to the door precautionary before you accidentally spilled the much needed coffee.

At the sound of your tremulous voice Eddie lost his self confident composure and turned into a scared little child that was scolded by its parents. He looked at you with his incredibly lovely puppy eyes, something no one could resist. On one hand you felt bad for yelling at him, on the other hand, however, you were still boiling with anger.

“I’ve seen you,” you began, voice now softer. “I’ve seen you with this girl last night. You had your arm wrapped around her shoulder and took her with you into your room. How could I even believe that you were resistant to these horny groupies.” Eddie froze as you explained to him why you were so angry with him.

"I mean, she's absolutely beautiful, breathtaking. I can't really blame you, she's gorgeous. I would choose her over myself too, honestly -”

“Y/N,” Eddie interrupted you, his voice soft and … amused? “That’s Robin.” He was unexpectedly calm, nearly optimistic, and not like he was trying to talk himself out of this.

“Oh, great. At least you can remember her name,” you laughed hysterically. “Congratulations! Bonus points to Eddie fucking Munson. You’re right, you are indeed different from all those horny rockstars.” Your voice was dripping with sarcasm. Even if you tried to hold back your hurt and anger, it wouldn’t have been successful. But letting it all out felt good, freeing. You looked at him, waiting for some lazy excuses, but he was just calm, like your accusations didn’t bother him. Was that a smile? Was he really smiling right now?

A moment of tense silence hung in the air. A moment that felt like eternity as you waited for his answer.

“Robin’s a lesbian.” Eddie tried to fight it, but it was a hopeless fight. The teasing grin tugging at his lips spread across his face.

“Oh … “ This caught you off guard. Your expression shifted from hurt to embarrassment, your hungover mind racing to process the unexpected revelation. “Oh!” To hide your blushing cheeks you covered your face with your hands. “Oh my god.”

“She’s an old friend of mine. And since she lives here, I decided to meet her, ask her for some advice on how to win you over, you know.”

“I’m so fucking sorry, really. I didn’t know - I just saw you and her and -” you apologized stuttering, ashamed you judged him too soon and unjustifiably screamed at him. A knot of guilt and remorse formed in the pit of your stomach as the realization sank in.

“It’s okay,” Eddie reassured you. “I never meant to upset you. I actually thought you were already out with your cousins.”

“I was on my way to meet them outside when I saw you with her,” you interfered.

He sighed and looked down on you, his expression softening with understanding.

“I never was good at talking to girls. To be honest, I’m awkward when it comes to flirting or talking with a girl I like. So I asked Robin if she could help me out. I wanted to do it right, you know? And not scare you away because I’m clumsy and weird since it was getting serious between us.” Eddie shook his head and huffed, seemingly amused about a memory that popped up.

“You know, I figured calling someone I like M’lady and stuff isn’t really what girls want.”

"Eddie, I'm so incredibly sorry, I really am," you apologized over and over again. The guilt seemed to eat you up inside.

“Please believe me, my love, and I’ll give you those things you thought unreal - the sun, the moon, the stars all bear my seal,” he whispered, his rough hands cupping your face.

Even when everything would fall apart someday and the world burned down, all he would want was to hug you tight. There was nothing more important to him than you and his music - as long as you were with him, nothing could go wrong, you’ll be the light to guide him back home. He lost himself in the depths of your y/e/c irises, his heart beating violently in his chest. Just as you were about to say something he closed the gap between your lips. The kiss sparked something inside of you you’ve never felt before, something you never wanted to miss again in your life.

Out of breath you pulled away. Your mind was dizzy, but you were unsure if it was from the lingering effects of your hangover or the intensity of this moment, this overwhelming kiss.

“Come on, get ready and we’ll go out to get some breakfast,” he whispered, his smile was filled with warmth and affection - just pure adoration for the most wonderful woman in his life.

__________

If you want to be tagged in coming fanfics or if you want to request something, feel free to send me a dm or an ask. 🥰 Likes, comments and especially reblogs are always welcome. 🤗

[mmunson86]

Y’all you can’t tell me that this is not Rockstar Eddie Munson coded

Just imagine them in the green room before a show and reader takes out her phone to record Eddie messing with Gareths drums 🤣💗🥹

[rosewaterandivy]

Live from New York…

Summary: a meet cute for everyone’s favorite rockstar!eddie and head SNL writer/weekend update anchor gf

WC: 4204 🫠 (my hand slipped)

Pairing: rockstar!eddie x screenwriter!gf

Warning/Themes: work related stress, smitten Eddie, hectic SNL schedule built around cocaine, meddling actor!steve harrington, encounters in close quarters, Eddie wearing Le Labo Santal 33– which should be a warning all its own, my usual brand of filth™️

A/N: we’ve had our meet cute with actor!steve, now it’s Eddie’s turn!

Series masterlist | playlist | currently spinning:

At Studio 8H, you always hit the ground running on Mondays. Hopefully, you’d lazed away or slept off the hangover from the after-party on Sunday, but sometimes you weren’t so lucky.

Today was one of those days.

A subway ride from hell, you were pretty sure your bodega guy was mad at you (again), and the inevitable spins and mouth sweats which could only mean—

“Hey killer!” Pete greets, towing the week’s host and musical guest behind him.

And because this situation could only get worse, you hold up a solitary finger and duck into a nearby dressing room to puke and rally.

“Fuckin’ Mondays, am I right?”

A rich voice greets you as you make your entrance back into the hallway, someone wearing a panoply of rings shoves a cold water bottle in your hand while you push your sunglasses up the bridge of your nose.

“Y’alright there, boss?”

A nod as you guzzle some water.

“Just peachy, Davidson.” You heave a sigh, grimacing as you make eye contact with the host, Steve Harrington, and one fifth of the musical guest in the form of Eddie Munson. “Sorry for the uh—" you gesture vaguely to the dressing room.

“No worries,” Steve says with a smile, “We’ve all been there.”

Eddie, for his part, snorts a laugh.

“Charmed,” you chirp, readjusting your canvas tote on your shoulder and resuming your walk down the hall.

“Pitch meeting in 5!”

_

The Monday meeting was always a wash. Pitches that were half-formed or outright veto’d by Lorne or the host, and Pete giving the same pitch for the fourth month running that no one bit at.

Typical.

Steve was affable enough, charming in the way only an actor could be, easy to laugh and joke. Eddie Munson, however, was all long-limbed ease and looked at you in a way that was unnerving.

No matter. You didn’t have the time to contemplate why the frontman of Corroded Coffin irked you, not when the cast members were especially needy for your attention and the writers retreated to the conference room.

“Chloe,” you huff as the small blonde trails after you, mouth going a mile a minute about a new impression she’d perfected.

You stopped short at your office door, causing Chloe to bump into you. With a slow turn, you try to smile in a well-meaning way, sunglasses sliding down your nose again.

“Can this wait until later?” Your hand twists the handle, allowing you to slip inside the room and escape the sad fall of her face. “I promise you’ll have my undivided attention this afternoon, okay?”

That seems to perk her back up. She gives you a smile and salute before trotting off back to her dressing room.

You sigh and slide back against the closed door, eyes slipping shut for the briefest of moments. Not open long enough to clock a mop of brown curls lazing on your couch.

“Exhausting being on top, isn’t it?”

Your eyes open only to land on Eddie Munson, laid out on your couch as if he owns the place.

“How did you get in here?”

You cross to the desk, heaving your tote onto it and peel the glasses from your face. Falling into your chair, you await his reply and open up your laptop.

Rooting around in your tote for your notes, you notice a coffee cup and danish at his side.

“Is that my cherry danish and cold brew?”

“Hmm?” He turns toward the sound of your voice. “Oh, this? An intern dropped it off.”

Eyeing the bite taken out of the danish, you sigh. “And you just assumed it was for you?”

“It’s not?”

“Unless Corroded’s rider has something about cherry danishes on it—“

“I just thought since your little performance this morning, you wouldn’t be in the mood.”

He sits up with a stretch, arms rising above his head, a sliver of skin visible above the band of his boxer-briefs.

Calvin’s, of fucking course.

You repress the need to roll your eyes. “How kind,” you say instead, flipping through your notes and typing a few ideas down.

“I thought so.” Eddie stands up, depositing the danish and coffee on your desk. “I’m more of a bagel and lox guy myself.”

“I’ll alert the media.”

He smiles slow, which is more attractive than you’d bargained for, annoyingly enough. His teeth are perfect against the plush pink of his lips, and he’s close enough, leaning against your desk, that you can smell the faint scent of his cologne— wood, leather, and violet?— cut through with a faint aroma of tobacco.

“I only have your best interests at heart, sugar.”

_

By Thursday, things started to even out. Some solid pitches turned into sketches, bumpers filmed and canned, and one only one sex dream about Eddie Munson.

You’d take what you could get.

It was basically inevitable, that fucker has been annoying you all week— popping into your office uninvited, sending the interns out for inane tasks just to get you alone, and, the real kicker, sending Harrington in as reinforcements.

“He’s not a bad guy,” Steve says, taking another bite of his lunch— subs from the Teamsters, your favorite day of the week.

“Munson?”

“Yeah,” he laughs, having made out your garbled phrase. “Ed just comes on strong, but he’s harmless.”

You roughly swallow and take a sip form your drink. “Whaddya mean?”

Steve pauses, sandwich halfway to his mouth. “Oh, uh,” he shrugs, “He likes you. Was that not obvious?”

You stare at him blankly.

Eddie Munson, attracted to you?

Yeah, when hell freezes over.

“He’s just razzing me,” you say, more to yourself than Steve.

He drops his sub on the wax paper and wipes his mouth with a napkin.

“That’s what you think?!”

“Well—" you sputter, indignantly. “If that’s how he shows his interest…”

Steve laughs, a bright and delightful thing. If only it wasn’t at your expense.

“Oh my god,” he wheezes. “Robin’ll get a kick outta this— holy shit.”

He pulls out his phone and sends off a text. The next thing you know, his assistant is barreling through your office door.

“You’re shitting me,” is what she says, eyes cutting from him to you. Communicating in some secret language of eye contact and gestures that was wholly beyond you.

That lunch was the last semblance of peace you’d had for the week before Eddie Munson began wooing you with increased vigor.

_

By Saturday, you’d had just about enough of his nonsense. More flowers than you knew what to do with, mini fridge in your office stocked with all your favorites, the writers actually doing their jobs for once— which was honestly just creepy, but you’d allow it.

“What did he do?”

It was the final read-through before the dress rehearsal later that evening. The writer’s room was packed, and no one had tried to kill anyone else yet.

Truly bizarre.

“What did who do?”

“Cut the shit,” You grouse back. “Munson, what did he do, threaten you idiots? Promise backstage passes— what?”

A hang-dog new hire sighed. “Said he’d have our guts for garters if we fucked up your week.”

“Yeah,” someone else chorused. “Said we’d wish all those Satanic rumors were true once he was done with us.”

And, as a result, no one had tried to steal your Emmy this week, you occasionally went home at a decent-ish hour, and no one had unnecessarily barricaded themselves in their dressing room.

Huh.

Maybe Harrington had a point.

Eddie Munson attracted to you? It’s more likely than you think!

The thought eluded you through the dress rehearsal and show itself, but reared its ugly head at the after-party.

A successful show, a compliment from Lorne, and several drinks had you feeling warm and buzzy. Harrington had wrangled you up on a table when “Teenage Dirtbag” came on, assured you it would be fine dancing on tabletops in high-heeled boots.

All was well and good until someone spilled a drink on said table and nearly sent you toppling to the floor.

Strong arms gripped your waist, settling you against a broad shoulder in a fireman’s carry.

“The fuck was that?!” crowed up at Steve, the music far too loud for you to make out his response, before you’re carried from the dance floor to the coat check room and placed back on your feet.

Right side up, Eddie looks flushed and concerned, checking your face and body for any signs of injury.

“You okay?”

Voice softer than you’re used to, not the gruff exterior or persona he plays into for the public. And, it’s nice. You’re just buzzed enough not to be horrified at the realization.

You laugh and press a finger into his heaving chest, “You like me, dontcha?”

Eddie laughs, dodging your gaze as his chin tucks into his chest. “Honestly?” He says after a beat, “You scare the shit outta me.”

“What,” you pout, “Little old me?”

Your finger idly traces nonsensical shapes against the black cotton of his shirt. He takes a breath, watching the trajectory of your hand.

“Not in a bad way,” he allows, eyes finally dragging back to you. All warm umber and hints of whisky. His hand touches yours, bringing an end to your wandering fingers.

Eddie swallows audibly and cocks his head to the side. “You’re just so…”

“Intense?”

There’s that slow smile again. He takes a step closer to you, hesitant as if he’s expecting you to push him away.

You don’t.

A shake of his head that frees a few strands from the low bun he’d dawned at curtain call. You brush your fingers against the soft curls and scruff of his jaw.

Eddie takes in a sharp breath, eyes closing minutely as his forehead rests against yours.

“You,” he breathes, voice low, “Are going to ruin me.”

Not a threat, but a promise.

A smile tugs at your lips. “Awfully presumptuous of you, Munson.”

“Call it a hunch, sweetheart.”

You close the distance between you with your lips. They slot into his with ease, your hand tangling itself into the curls at the nape of his neck.

He groans, something low from the cage in his chest and steps between your legs as your eyes fall shut. Your back hits the wall, his hand cradling your head, thumb rubbing idly along your scalp.

Eddie smells divine, and you’re not sure whether it’s the drinks or your own hormones that are to blame. But he tastes even better, the burn of whisky a comfort as his tongue sweeps across your bottom lip.

You open beneath him like a night-blooming flower, lips, and legs parting with ease. A wet click when you part, allowing you to take a shaky breath in. He moves along your jaw, soft lips sponging kisses there before lighting upon your neck.

“Fucking hell,” you groan, head rolling back against the wall behind you, earning a low laugh from him.

Everything feels amazing, your skin is buzzing at his attention, hands desperate to grab hold and never let go.

As his hips cant into your own, you can feel the hot, hard line of him. Your eyes flying open at the sensation and the thought that you may very well die getting dicked down by Eddie Munson in a coatroom.

But oh, what a way to go.

He’s on you again, lips and tongue eager for entry, before you can say anything stupid. Your mouth opens with a stuttered breath as Eddie slowly grinds against you.

He’s saying something, praises falling from his lips but you can’t possibly reply. Too wound up from arousal to be any sort of conversationalist. The pressure against your clothed heat is just right, and you’d like nothing more to get his pants off and ride Eddie to kingdom come.

That is until Steve Harrington barrels through the door.

“Oh shit,” he says, stifling a laugh. “My bad.”

He’s in and out in two seconds, but the mood is broken.

Eddie’s head rests against your shoulder while he catches his breath. You can feel the heat of his flush against your neck.

“So,” he begins, voice a low rasp. “I guess—"

“Your hotel is closer.”

He perks up at that, head rising from your shoulder with a quirked brow.

“Essex House, right?”

Eddie nods, picking up what you’re putting down. He scrambles for his phone, texting something before grabbing you by the hand and leading you out of the club and into the brisk New York night.

_

Falling back against the plush comforter, you drag Eddie down with you. Teeth clicking against each other in the effort. He huffs a laugh into your mouth, pushing you back against the pillows on the bed.

“You’re a pretty good kisser,” you say, propping up on your elbows.

“I may have heard that once or twice,” he says, tugging his shirt up and his head before tossing it elsewhere.

You make quick work of his jeans, while he occupies himself with mapping the geography of your body with his lips. He nips at your hip, earning a squeak of surprise from you as his arms cage you in.

His hair, now loose from the torment of your hands, tickles as it drags along your exposed skin. Eddie popping open the buttons of your blouse torturously slow.

Your lips claim his once more as his finger skims against the soft curve of your breast. You shudder at the sensation, unable to focus on anything except him.

Half-lidded eyes gaze down at you, a smirk tugging at his lips. With a roll of your eyes, you wiggle out of your shirt and pop the button of your trousers.

He’s quick to follow, fingers pulling at the fly and tugging the offending fabric from your legs.

The second the damp lace of your thong makes an appearance, Eddie groans loudly— head falling against your hip.

“Oh, my god.”

Too pent up to feel bashful, you tangle your fingers in his hair and give it a tug. Another groan, lower and deeper than the last.

“So pretty,” he breathes against your heat causing you to shiver.

His fingers hook into the fabric and pull them down the plush of your thighs, lips skating across the sensitive skin as he goes. Eddie is back on you before you can sit up to take off your bra; tugging you up to settle on his lap while reaching around to expertly unhook the lacy garment.

Distracting you with a kiss, it takes you a minute to realize that Eddie has apparently been struck stupid at the sight of you bare before him. His eyes rove over what feels like every inch of your body, as if he could never get enough.

“Hey,” you prompt with a roll of your hips. It’s delicious and delightful, sending sparks straight to your core. A soft sigh before you continue, “How do you want me?”

That seems to wake him back up. Eddie shakes himself alive and says with a bite to your lips, “As many times as I can have you, sweetheart.”

He lays you gently back down and grabs a condom from the bedside table. Before you can offer your assistance, however, he’s back between your legs with a singular focus: making you come. Hard and frequent.

By the time you reach your peak for the second time, he’s three knuckles deep and two fingers in. Your babbling incoherently while he smirks up at you, occasional coos of “Doin so well f’me” and “You can take another, right sugar?”

You nod, impatient for your next orgasm. Who would’ve thought that Eddie Munson could turn you into a needy brat without even seeing his dick?

Certainly not you.

“Eddie,” a broken pathetic whine from you. He’s worked in a third finger, impossibly, and you’re about to explode.

Pulling his lips from you clit, he glances up, lips and chin wet with your slick. “Yeah?”

The lighting in the room is low and warm, only enhancing his features, eyes blown dark with lust and lips ruddied and swollen from licking and kissing.

Another whine as you make grabby hands at him, “Wanna come on your cock.”

He chuckles lowly, sponging a kiss at your hip. “That so?”

You nod dumbly and wet your lips.

He rubs along your g-spot and your eyes roll back into your skull.

“Hmm,” he hums, “Why don’t you come on my fingers again and then you can make a mess on my cock?”

Not the answer you wanted to hear, but you’re too far gone to care. A petulant pout on your lips, but before you can make your retort, Eddie does that magical thing with his fingers again making you keen as you come.

Your vision whites out briefly, walls shuddering at his ministrations wetly.

“There’s a good girl,” he says, voice silky and low. “Knew you could do it.”

Damp fingers grasp your chin before prodding at your lips. You open your mouth to suck at them, tongue grazing against the cool silver of his rings as he watches.

Faintly, you hear the tearing of the condom wrapper as he extricated his hand from your mouth. Calvin’s long gone now, Eddie fists his cock to roll the condom down his shaft. And you can’t seem to pick your jaw up from the floor.

He looks almost nervous, brows furrowed and biting his lip. You can see why— he’s got the biggest and prettiest dick you’d ever seen. Cockhead flushed a rosy pink as he strokes himself, and you're not the best at spatial awareness but there are definitely several inches of him to reckon with.

“Hey,” you say with a swallow, mouth having filled with saliva at the sight of him. A jerk of your head, “C’mere, honey.”

With a smile, he returns to you. Kisses laved to your chest, neck, and finally lips while he situates himself against your petaled heat. Bumping against your abused clit, you sink back into the pillows with a moan.

Hands loosely cradling his collar and legs wound high against his back, you pull Eddie down for a slow kiss as your rock up against his shaft. He licks messily into your mouth as one of your hands snakes down to guide him inside.

He shudders at the sensation and the visual of your hand on his dick, small and dainty in comparison. “Fuckin’ hell.”

You hum contentedly. “You ain’t seen nothin' yet,” and drive the message home with a buck of your hips. His cockhead slips in, stretching you slightly but not unpleasantly.

He pauses, not wanting to hurt you or go too quickly just for it to happen again— too big, can’t fit. Surprisingly, you shimmy working him further into your cunt, inch by inch, until he’s buried to the hilt.

Eddie thinks he’s going to die like this— bottoming out in the girl of his dreams, all before he can blow his load or get you off like he wants to.

The stretch is good— hitting depths you didn’t realize were possible until now. Making your own efforts with the aid of your fingers and toys appear pathetic. You could vibrate out if you skin at the sensation— keyed up and pulled taught before he’s even had the chance to move yet.

You clench at the thought, causing Eddie to pant and moan against your neck. His left hand taps at your right leg.

“Can you raise that up, just a little?”

You acquiesce, and he thrusts experimentally. The angle changes everything, causing your blood to thrum and punching the breath from your lungs. Right leg wrapped around his waist while the other rests lazily against his hips.

Eddie kisses you quick, tongue eager as he works you open. You can hear the smack of his skin against yours, both damp with the exertion, accompanied by a sound and sensation wholly unfamiliar to you.

There’s a wet squelch when he bottoms out every other thrust or so, and the coil in your gut gets pulled tighter and tighter. Heat and pressure are building in your cunt and radiating outwards.

You jolt upwards, breasts brushing against his chest, nipples hardening in the cool air. “Eddie I’m—" your voice catches in your throat, a tear falling from your eyes and cascading down your cheek.

Before he can see your unintended emotional display, you bury your face into the curve of his neck with a gasp. His hips stutter as you draw closer, neck growing damp with your tears.

“Shit. Did I—"

You quiet his concerns with a shake of your head, “No baby, I’m good. Keep going.” And with a languid roll of your hips, you seal the deal.

Eddie’s thrusts slow, the angle forcing his pelvis to tilt and drag exquisitely against your clit. Your head drops back against the pillows. He licks his lips and watches your mouth fall open with interest. He loves the way your eyes can’t seem to focus, the way your tongue lies heavy in your mouth, the way you try to hide from your pleasure, but he knows you’re excited.

Your next orgasm crashes upon you like a tidal wave, walls fluttering like the wings of a frantic hummingbird. You nearly scream from the pleasure of it all, mingled with a pinch of pain as a gushing soak drenches the both of you.

Your body jerks forward, pinned by Eddie’s hips and the cage of his arms holding you close. You can feel him moving inside you in long strokes before he stills to let you ride it out.

“That’s never happened before,” you slur out.

“Yeah?” He smirks, resuming his thrusts, pace nearly brutal now— diving into you so fast and hard that your eyes well up with tears. It doesn’t feel like you’ll reach the peak again, feels like you’ve been on the cusp since the coat room.

Your brain is fried and completely blissed out— fucked stupid by a rockstar you'd known for a week. You can only gasp in clipped short breaths as the air is continuously punched from your lungs.

Eddie bites his lip, eyes fixed on the way his cock spreads your cunt. The way your pussy is glistening and cherry red from his ministrations.

“Wish you could see yourself,” he groans out. “Such a good girl, takin’ all of me.”

Eddie could be talking gibberish and you would still nod along, falling apart as you stutter and plead, begging for him. I want it. I want it. Iwantitiwantitineedit. I need you.

A few more strokes and Eddie comes hard, thick ropes of come released into the condom, shuddering against the clenching of your walls— tight and wet and hot. Your name falls from his lips in a broken moan causing you to break open, crying out pitifully and throwing your head back against the pillows.

And, god damn, he’s just so pretty. All pink lips and pupils blown wide, chest heaving with desperate breaths before he collapses on top of you.

You feel positively ruined for other men. It’s unbelievable, the way he’s seared his touch into your body and brain. And yeah, if you had a soul or whatever, probably that too.

It may not be the most orgasms you’d ever had, but it’s damn near close and certainly the most intense yet. Your body trembles against Eddie’s torso, while he sucks on your neck, murmuring praises into your ear. Calls you sweetheart, baby, good fucking girl. Keeps himself inside, nestled comfortably deep.

You’re likely to faint if he doesn’t stop— intense whispers, slow movements, and rubbing sweetly against your walls. Eddie drags another orgasm out of you, miraculously so, almost letting you forget how torn open he’s made you feel. Your toes curl and go limp again for what feels like the umpteenth time, plaint against him as you catch your breath.

He lands a soft, barely-there kiss against the lobe of your ear and wipes the sweat from your neck and brow away.

“You okay?” He asks in a whisper, sending chills down your spine. “You got a little—"

“Overstimulated, yeah,” you answer with a laugh. Your arms drape around his collar lazily. “I’m good,” you say with a smile, “Never better.”

“Yeah?” Eddie’s smile is a bright bashful thing. He ducks his head, like he can’t believe you’re real, and bites his lip.

“Gonna be pretty useless for the next couple of hours though.”

He glances back up at you. “Really?”

“Totally.” Your fingers card into his hair, working against his scalp. “This guy fucked me stupid and now I can’t feel my legs so.”

He laughs, the vibrations reverberating against your ribs before rolling off of you to discard the condom. His hand finds yours again in the near-dark, cool metal against the damp of your palm.

You lay beneath the fluffy duvet, facing Eddie. Your legs were entwined with his and he has a big, stupid grin on his face. You were sure your smile matched his own.

A phone trills into the still of the room, Eddie groans in frustration and grapples with finding it on the nightstand. He answers it with a huff of annoyance as Steve Harrington's voice cascades through the speaker.

“So…” he sings, the street noise of the city serving as background, “You guys fuckin’ or what?”

_

[floosies]

model/influencer!oc inspo for rockstar!eddie fic series Radio

series masterlist here

[eddiesxangel]

Imagine texting with older!rockstarEddie for a while, not even going out on an official date yet but you both like one another.

Out of no where you’re feeling brave and decide to send him a naughty pic but you send it with the invisible ink effect because you’re not sure if he’s alone.

Eddie can’t figure out what it is or how to see the picture and he just gets frustrated and taps the screen a bunch and is visibly getting frustrated. Jeff offers to help but poor guy had no idea that it would be a picture of you like that 😭 and Ed’s is peering over his shoulder as he unveils the photo and snatches the phone from Jeff so quick.

Poor Jeff tries to pretend he didn’t see anything bc Eddie is so possessive. He shoves the phone back in his pants pocket because he has work to do. A few hours later you ended up getting a very a stern phone call from him later when he was done in the studio 😅😅😅

[munsonsmixtapes]

And the Winner is…

rockstar!Eddie x actress!reader

summary: you and Eddie get seated next to each other at an awards show after years of mutual pining

The takes place in present day!

The first time you laid eye on Eddie Munson, you were convinced that you were in love. And how could you not have been with his megawatt smile and beautiful brown eyes that you could have gotten lost in?

Not only was he absolutely beautiful, but he was also such a gentleman unlike so many men in his industry. You had seen videos online of him interacting with fans and he was always nothing but a big sweetheart, giving them big hugs and even taking pictures with them even if he didn’t have time.

Out of all the events you had both ended up at, you had never officially met. It was usually just a “hello” or a little wave before you were both pulling opposite directions to where you were seated. At that point, you were convinced that it just wasn’t meant to be.

That is, until you were seated next to him at an awards show. You couldn’t believe it when you saw his picture on the seat next to yours. Maybe the universe was finally on your side. Maybe it had been fate that the two of you were sitting together after years of being pulled apart.

You took a seat and were grateful that you were wearing a jumpsuit so you didn’t have to constantly adjust your outfit this time. Eventually, other people in your row started arriving, forcing you to stand up since you were in the middle. There was still no sign of Eddie and you were hoping that the band was going to show. It was just like them to skip something like that.

Eventually, Corroded Coffin came into view and you had to keep your mouth from falling open at the sight of Eddie. You watched him greet everyone in his path and couldn’t help but think about how nervous you were. You had really only seen him on a screen or gotten glimpses of him at other events so actually seeing him in person was such a strange feeling.

The band made their way up the steps to the row where you were sitting and one by one, they stay in their assigned seats, Eddie taking his that was to the right of you. You turned away, not wanting to make direct contact with him and Eddie took the time to check you out. He admired the way your jumpsuit clung to your body and how it wasn’t zipped all the way up so he got a good look at your cleavage.

You turned back to give him a warm smile and he could have sworn that he was going to melt right there. You were just so pretty that you couldn’t be real. A beautiful figment of his imagination. The way your makeup looked so pretty and the lights reflected off of your highlighter, giving it a beautiful shine.

As soon as you turned back to Eddie, he turned away and it was your turn to look at him. His hair was pulled back for once, a few of his curls pulled out to frame his face and he was dressed in a red button up shirt where only a few of the buttons were done up under a black blazer with a pair of black dress pants.

He turned his head slightly towards you and you were able to get a glimpse of the black color that lines his eyes. It was messy and smoky and you couldn’t take your eyes off of it, wondering if he had done it himself or a makeup artist had done it for him. Eddie fully turned to face you and smiled, showing his teeth, putting his hand out for you to shake.

“I’m Eddie.” The man didn’t need an introduction. Even if you hadn’t been utterly obsessed with him, you still would have known who he was just from social media. You had constantly seen videos of his performances which had only made you fall more in love with him.

“Y/n,” you responded, taking his hand in hours, giving it a shake. His hand was rough and warm in yours and he shook yours gently, unlike other men who always seemed to want to break it.

Eddie knew exactly who you were. He’d never tell anyone, but he had seen your movies more times than he could count. Not only was he captivated by your looks, but he was also mesmerized by your talent. He was so amazed by how you could easily morph into whatever character you were playing, to the point where he was almost able to believe that you were whoever you were supposed to be.

“A pleasure to meet you,” he nodded. “It’s a shame that we haven’t been able to meet until now.” Eddie didn’t know where the formality had come from. He had never spoken that way to anyone.

“I agree,” you nodded. “I’ve been wanting to meet you for a while.” Well, this was news to him. If he had known, he definitely would have made more of an effort to officially meet you instead of giving you space like he had assumed you wanted.

“The same goes to you. And may I say, you look fucking amazing tonight.” He was leaning closer to you now, his eyes darkening.

“You’re the one who looks amazing, handsome.” You reached up and pushed some of his hair out of his face. You then pulled your hand away too soon for Eddie’s liking and turned back to face forward.

The show soon started after that, but neither of you has been paying attention. The entire night was filled with stolen glances and giggles and close to the end of the show, Eddie’s hand had somehow ended up on your thigh, which you didn’t mind at all.

You discussed the performances and winners and you had no idea that Eddie was even more of a gossip that you were. He seemed to know everything about everyone in his industry and that was fascinating to you, that he knew so much despite how busy he always seemed to be.

Neither of you ended up winning anything, but it hardly mattered and neither of you had even noticed because of all you had been paying attention to was each other. And both of you had won so many awards over the years that you didn’t even care. It wasn’t that much of a loss.

“Do you want to get out of here?” Eddie asked as everyone was staring to leave. Of course you wanted to get out of there. You had wanted to leave and have your way with him the moment he sat down next to you. And now you were getting your chance. You hoped. You wouldn’t have made a move if he wasn’t up for it.

“I thought you’d never ask.” Eddie took you by the hand and led you out of the building to the car that was waiting for him, ready to take you to his home.

As soon as the car door closed next to you after you climbed into the backseat, Eddie’s lips were on yours. They were chapped, but still soft, the kiss, rough and hard as you both poured your years of yearning into it. He licked into your mouth and you let him in, not being able to hold back your moans as his tongue swirled around yours.

You kissed the entire way to Eddie’s house, whispering nothing but dirty things to each other when you were catching your breaths. You couldn’t believe that you had gone so long without having his lips on yours, without knowing how good he was at knowing exactly what you needed when you needed it. He was the perfect man and you had every intention of showing him as soon as you got to his bedroom.

[eddiernunson]

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

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

Warnings: Older Rockstar!Eddie, Harrington!Reader (Steve’s daughter), multichapter build up, excessive use of nicknames, no use of y/n, use of marijuana, perv!Eddie, this chapter has some forced proximity, tension and uh oh feelings.

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

Word Count: 3.7k (it’s the shortest one, I promise I’m so sorry 😭)

Chapter 2

The first thing you did when you got into Eddie Munson’s little red corvette was peel the window open, claiming you had just needed some fresh air. It was true, as his scent had choked you as soon as you sat down on the dark gray leather seats. It’s strangely intoxicating, an odd mix of smoke, woodsy, and pure man that has you wanting to take a big whiff like some little pervert.

Strangely even from the window of a rockstar’s corvette the little town looked no more glamorous than it did from your beat up car, the small town feel of it all suffocating as you fill with gratitude you managed to get out. He finally pulls in front of a three story apartment, white walls and balconies so small they make you claustrophobic.

“Uh, how are we supposed to fill this small car with all your uncle’s stuff?” You ask, peering into the backseat as you undo your seatbelt.

He smiles, his eyes momentarily switching between the backseat of the two door car and you. “My van is in the resident’s parking lot, it should have plenty of room to move stuff over.”

“So, donation, your place and your uncle’s place, I’m guessing?” You ask, walking a step behind him to the front door of the building.

“Pretty much. It just comes down to going through it which I know, will be a fucking pain.” He reaches your eyes, giving you a small smile. “Thanks for coming.”

You didn’t have much of a choice.

“Not that you had much of a choice,” he adds as he opens the apartment door, a small bout of laughter filling the halls.

Okay, that was weird.

His uncle lived on the first floor in the corner room in a furnished spot, so all it came down to were the knicknacks he had collected over the years. You didn’t think that’d be so bad until you walked in, your eyes landing on wall to wall collections of mugs and hats and other tiny sentimental things.

“Pretty sure we’re going to end up donating most of the mugs, he doesn’t use them anyway, it’s the hats he’s been fighting tooth and nail for,” he rolls his eyes, grabbing a moving box you haven’t noticed from a stack in a pile against the wall.

“How’d those get here?”

“My assistant brought them with the van,” he explains, setting the box up. “He’s hanging out around town until we pack the van up.”

“Must be nice to have an assistant to take care of that shit,” you muse, your voice only the teeniest bit bitter about it.

He passes you the box, his shoulders shaking in laughter. “I’m aware it sounds pretentious. I only hired him when I kept losing track of which fucking thing I had to do next. Interview, show, interview, photo shoot…it was fucking never ending at times. Sometimes I needed a reminder to fucking eat.”

You grab the box from him, ignoring the twinge in your gut as you walk up to a bookshelf in the corner of the small living room containing many little things. You know time is of the essence, but you can’t help yourself, leaning over to analyze the display his uncle had created. There’s a photo in the center in a simple wooden frame, a gruff older man who you supposed would be Wayne standing arm in arm with Eddie, a much younger, freer Eddie, at least, standing outside in front of a forest area.

Eddie has his hand on his hip, squinting his eyes against the sun with his uncle's arm wrapped around his shoulder. If you’d looked closer, you’d see their reddened faces, blotchy from tears shed but both gritting their teeth for the picture.

“That was the day I left for LA,” you jump at his voice, holding your chest tightly as you turn to look around to face him.

He’s still across the apartment, wrapping the mugs and storing them in a tupperware box. “I have never seen him cry like that in my life. I was scared shitless.”

You avoid his stare, the starry eyed version of him something you’re not quite used to, something stirs deep in your gut that you find oddly unsettling.

In an attempt to ignore it you look closer at the knick knacks surrounding it, suddenly realizing it was just Corroded Coffin merch, tickets, and even demos. “These would be worth a pretty penny,” you turn over the tape in your hand, imagining a rough draft of Eddie’s untuned, inexperienced vocals. “To you, they must be priceless.”

“I could release them if I’d really wanted to, but the songs suck and my voice was even worse,” Eddie shrugs, still moving mugs into their different boxes. You notice how much fuller the one on the left is, Eddie making actual progress in comparison to your dilly-dallied snooping.

“I bet Wayne still wants this.” You sigh, placing the memorabilia gently in the cardboard box, admiring the faded ink from ticket stubs over twenty years ago. The following shelf had a full row of dark fantasy novels, every spine cracked to oblivion with yellowed crinkled pages. “Do you want these?”

Eddie looks over, absentmindedly wrapping a mug when he double, triple takes, his face lighting up like a kid on Christmas. “Oh I thought he threw those away!”

Suddenly the scent of his cologne invades your nose again as he leans right next to you, grabbing at one of the books on the shelf with a giddy grin. “I used to reread these all the time.”

“Princesses needing rescuing in some odd faraway land?” You tease, turning the dark green book over in your hand.

“Usually with some kind of twist,” he hums, analyzing the back of his paperback as he squats his ass an inch over the floor. ���Dragons being in cahoots, noble knights acting selfishly, evil kings turning out to be righteously good… there was always some sort of twist,” his narration turned dramatic as the sentence moved on, a story teller’s voice.

It reminded you of one specific fun fact. “Uncle Dustin said you were his dungeon master in high school, were these any inspiration?”

Eddie’s brows furrow deeply, jerking his head as swivels sharply upward. “Somehow it’d slipped my mind that you would know Dust.”

You nod absentmindedly, taking in the fantastical names in the description. Lysandra the princess, Eletha the fae, King Alistair… “Unfortunately.”

“Hmm,” he peeps, fluttering through the pages. “Aah, Sorceress Nyrinn teaching Lysandra basic magic, this takes me back.”

You smile down at him, how his dimples are deeply embedded in his cheeks and his front canines peek from behind that wide grin as he skims through his harlequin equivalent chock full of fantasy and adventure.

“Any of these girls you’ve ever fantasized about rescuing?” You tease him, starting to toss the books in a box labeled Eddie Home. He remains silent, even a pink tinge dusting his ears. “I was joking, sire.”

“Just keep packing,” he grumbles, tossing the book carelessly into your very organized box. “I’m gonna go take a quick smoke break.”

You find yourself fallen into an easy pattern, having figured out what Eddie’s looking to keep very early on. He’s even willing to go through the boxes that have been long stored at Wayne’s apartment, insisting they don’t need any dead weight, not in Wayne’s small sized room, and not lugged across a few state lines back in LA.

One of the boxes stored in Wayne’s closet seems like it was just thrown together until you realize they were all belongings of a teenage boy. A soft smile graces your face as you imagine Wayne unable to part with the little part of seventeen year old Eddie he still had with him, even if it’s his messy room thrown into a box.

You pick up a small shoe box, the items clunkily jumping about when you shake it. It’s only logical that the box should hold a few dozen player’s dice and painted figurines. The box’s heavy weight is largely contributed to by the worn out and outdated version of the player’s manual.

You take note of the sticky notes curled and faded peeking out of the pages, messy scrawl noting a page Eddie must’ve used for referral once or twice.

One set of dice had a familiar red and plank pattern, painted to look like his prized guitar. You smooth your thumb along the ridged paint, putting the box aside for Eddie despite the protests he will so obviously yelp out.

He deserves to be a bit more forgiving of that side of himself.

There were a handful of items you picked up and put aside for donation, a few old music tapes, a guitar string placement poster, until something catches your eye; a well loved classified notebook.

Now, you might’ve been wrong, but you always had the feeling that Eddie wasn’t too interested in his school work, all items from his locker having been tossed in the garbage the moment the last bell rang each year. As you tentatively open the book, you realize it was probably the one thing that kept him going back.

Each lined paper was filled with his messy scrawl, an intriguing combination of cursive and print, extensively detailed plans for his run as, so Dustin called him, a vindictive and tyrannical dungeon master. Across the scrawl were doodles, well shaded pencil drawings of creatures and classes alike. One page caught your eye towards the end, a full page of scattered doodles that seemed eerily familiar to you.

“Wow.” You look up to face Eddie leaned against the door frame with his arms across his chest, his eyes trained on the notebook in your hands. “I haven’t seen that in a while.”

You glance back down to the page and its doodles, still trying to make sense of where you could’ve seen it. As if plucked out of thin air, a song starts playing in your head and it clicks. “Hey you used these doodles on an album cover.”

He nods, watching your hands gently touch the graphite on the paper. “You could totally donate these to a rock and roll museum; they'd think it's dope.”

Eddie shakes his head, as if the idea was ridiculous. “No one wants to see my ratty old notebook filled with my dateless evenings. There’s not even a single lyric in there.”

“But this is on one of your albums, isn’t it?”

He nods, smiling softly at the abstract doodles before glancing up to you. “I don’t want it, I would never look at it. Take it, if you want.”

You were already tempted to steal it, the notebook having a scent that’s so specifically Eddie with an added elixir of teenage boy added to the mix making maybe your one true Kryptonite. “Whaaaaat? Why would I take it?”

“Steve said you’re a fan of our music, yeah?” You nod meekly, still tracing the graphite. “Well if not, it's going in the trash.”

You put it in your purse.

Since your father left that morning, so did the tether that kept your head on straight, any lingering ideas kept at bay as you kept a safe distance. It was gone.

Keeping a safe distance as an act of self discipline all but seemed moot when your dad offered your services, now stuck in a tiny apartment working around Eddie as his gentle voice hums to the music blasting through his phone.

Maybe a dress isn’t the best choice to wear for manual labor such as packing and moving boxes, the length obviously not long enough to cover the bright underwear. Maybe it's the little allowance you give yourself to indulge in defiance against your own rule. Regardless, it was safer to stay as far away as possible.

Fate proves herself to be a cruel mistress as you find yourself on your tiptoes, reaching up to grab something on a shelf you wondered why someone elderly had a shelf stored so high on the wall, and you smelt him before you felt him, reaching to the shelf’s level to grab it for you.

“Why the hell did he have a shelf this fuckin’ high for?” He huffs, tossing the hidden box onto the bed.

He steps away as fast as he came, leaving the room with a few boxes you had packed and ready. The moment clouds your brain, his strong torso completely against your back, his hot breath on your neck as he stepped away. What the hell?

Your heart pitter patters, your whole body frazzled while you put a few more boxes by the door.

As you’re leaning down to pick up another box you hear Eddie swear loudly down the hall in disgust. He uses the lord’s name in vain several times, rubbing his hand on his pants as his face twists up in utter revulsion when you peek out to see the culprit.

“Somethin’ gross? I don’t see anything wrong with this picture,” you comment, looking around his setting for what might have set him off.

“Don’t–” his hands fly up to prevent you from taking another step. His overly wide eyes and panicked state would usually have you laughing if you weren’t so curious to what could possibly send him into this frantic state of disgust. “You don’t want to know, trust me.”

“Now I really do want to know,” you insist, still scanning the room.

“No. You don’t.” He shakes his head solemnly, his foot slowly shuffling slightly to his left. “Seriously.”

“Can I at least have a hint?” You plead, knowing the possibilities will drive you crazy all day.

“I just found a box of my old clothes,” Eddie starts, gesturing to a kaleidoscope of different shades of black with an occasional band font, unfolded as if thrown in a hurry.

He obviously is hinting towards something, but you need some more exposition. “...Ok?”

Eddie pauses to think, hands on his hips as he racks his brain for something. “Think of it this way. Think of the one item of clothing you don’t want to find under a teenage boy’s bed, twenty years later. Especially twenty years later.” He shudders again.

The one thing…oh. “Oh my god,” you giggle, hiding your obvious glee over his disgust behind your hand. “A…sock?”

Eddie nods slowly, nodding his head in what must be mortification. “Uh huh. I am burning this whole bucket of clothes that just–” he shudders, his left foot inching towards where you had to now guess what must be an absolutely petrified cum-sock lies, “marinated in it.”

A bout of laughter passes through your lips again, disguising the odd intrigue you found yourself in. You might be more perverted than even you initially realized.

No, put away the thought of inhaling in the 20-year-old musk–

“Hey, do you mind helping me with this box? It’s ridiculously heavy,” Eddie gestures down the hall to a tote seemingly filled to the brim with random shit, the sock supposedly tossed into the garbage by then.

“No problem.”

“You want me to walk backward?” He offers, reaching your eyes as you both bend over to grab at the awkward edges.

“Yeah that’d be great,” You cough, failing to ignore the cigarette on his breath just barely disguised by the mint.

Step by step you help him around the corners until you help lift the box into his van, refusing to allow yourself more than a singular moment lingering on how his arms bulge through the lift.

Wayne had a bedside table he hadn’t gone through, filled with momentums over the years. You grab one of the smaller boxes from the living room to hold them, wanting to take care of the things that Wayne had cared for. There were a few photos, Eddie in scattered years from an angsty teenager to a rowdy kid with a missing front tooth. It was obvious everything in his bedside would be moved back to Wayne, allowing him his precious memories of the boy he cared for.

Allotted between the table and the bed is a photo album, something you suspect is cover to cover filled with more photos until you get the glimpse of a brightly coloured pape, just a millisecond but enough to peak your curiosity.

By the second page you’re in tears, softly sniffling at messy scribblings with silly puns and elaborate doodles.

“Hey, when you get a sec–” Eddie stops mid-sentence, taking you in on the bare bed as you weepily turn a page. “You okay?”

“Oh,” you wipe away the tear that was shed, embarrassed. “I’m fine. It’s just— it’s so obvious he went through this a lot, some pages are worn out.”

“Let’s see,” he holds his hand out for the photo album, a drop of weight on the bed as he peers shoulder to shoulder with you as he reads over the pages in front of you. “Oh, wow.”

You put the book in his outstretched hands, watching his expression turn misty as well. The deceitful photo album is an album of father’s day cards, about twenty of them all lined in a row with Eddie’s well wishes in each one.

“I started sending them when I was 25,” he mumbles, his voice wet as he turns a page. “I figured since he raised me n’ all, he deserved the title and the recognition.”

“Seems like he felt honored,” you comment, watching page by page.

“I picked these cards out in less than a second but he puts them in a pressed fucking photo album,” he laughs, shaking his head. “Wayne is ridiculous. But he’s always been my biggest supporter.”

Impulsively, you nudge your chin on his shoulder affectionately, watching him flip through the last through the final few pages. You wondered if his vulnerability making you even crazier for him would be an isolated incident.

God sure had a sick sense of humor when he tied emotion and lust for women.

Turns out, you two work remarkably well together because by the time Eddie places the photo album in the box with a not so subtle sniffle, Wayne’s room, kitchen, and livingroom are all packed up and ready for distribution. The things going home with Eddie and to Wayne’s room are in the van stacked like tetris with your very ‘helpful’ commentary and the donations are piled up by the front door waiting for their collection.

The little red corvette has been sitting in the hot sun for a few hours by the time you’re back into it, ready for a night off your feet.

“I don’t know about you, but I’m starving,” Eddie comments, taking a turn away from your house.

Your stomach growls at the mention of food, still only two slices of toast being the one thing used to sustain your appetite for the day. “I could definitely eat.”

“Good, I need to thank you for your help.”

You avoid his intense gaze from the corner of your eye, staring holes into your thighs. “It was nothing–”

“What’s your favourite spot in town?” Eddie seems to be ignoring your protests, meeting them with an exaggerated huff as if you were acting foolish.

“I don’t mind if you take me to the nearest one, Munson. I’m starving,” you insist, laughing at the manic shaking of his head.

“I’m not taking you anywhere except your favorite spot,” Eddie insists right back, without missing a beat.

No wonder he and Steve had managed to stay friends for so long, he matches your stubbornness step for step.

“Fine! Take me to Miss.Tina’s I haven’t had their burgers since I’ve been back,” you think back to their fully stacked burgers paired with their crinkle fries drizzled in mustard. You still haven’t been able to find a burger from a local restaurant near your campus that even rivals Miss.Tina’s recipe.

“Oh, I know you’re fucking with me,” Eddie laughs, taking the left turn at the traffic lights.

“Nope,” you inform him, shaking your head slowly. “It’s always been my favourite place in town.”

“Well call that dumb luck, because it’s my fuckin’ favourite place, too.”

“I take it back.”

You laugh at his deadpan, noting the new decor around the walls since the last time you’ve seen it.

“It’s not that bad.” It is, you’re just hoping he doesn’t leave because of the change.

“Are you shitting me?” Eddie deadpans, glancing around to the updated insides now turned into a hollow husk of a restaurant. At least, it certainly felt like the funeral march of your once beloved restaurant. “It’s a horrendous study in interior design. Who the hell paints the inside of a restaurant bright orange?”

“Ok, it’s that bad, but I just need a damn good burger.” You lead the way into the line, noting their updating point of sale. Last time you were there the employee had still been using a notepad, this time an iPad had been stationed on a stand.

The employee now wears some updated uniform barring the design, a bright smile on her face as she greets the two of you. Definitely not the deadened stare you were used to.

The mustard packet you received was a third of the size of what they used to be. It seems Miss.Tina’s has finally met empty corporate capitalism.

The decor might’ve changed, but the recipes remain as always untouched, a collective groan in satisfaction in your first bites in the tacky booth confirmation that Miss.Tina’s still fucks.

“If they change their recipe they are so screwed,” Eddie says exactly what you’re thinking between bites, wiping his face from the sauces that splatters his lips. As he wipes it off, you start to think of making out with him in the booth and lapping up and cleaning his messy face for him. Some real good messy make outs.

You nod, taking a sip from the large soda that must be at least 5 ounces smaller. “Oh, they’d shut down within the week.”

“This was one of the only few places where every group in Hawkins High could be seen, because they didn’t care when we loitered and Miss.Tina treated us like her own.” Eddie glances upward at a sign right by the table, NO LOITERING.

“That’s kind of really depressing,” you sigh, munching on your fry through a fucking wooden fork. “I am not sure I want these fries lathered in mustard enough to also add the taste of wood to it.”

“Plenty of wood has been tasted in these walls before,” Eddie smirks, raising his pierced brow when you choke on the following fry.

It’s like he prides himself on how he manages to make your brain short circuit so easily. Thankfully, years of being raised in the Harrington household has trained a keen sense of wit into you. “Judging on those princess books, Munson,” you take another sip, letting the beginning of your sentence settle in, “doesn’t seem like yours was one of them.”

The fry that bounced off your forehead the moment after was worth it, and the rosy pink that bloomed across his cheeks was even more so.

-

I have 99% done at this point I’m so excited for y’all to read it!!!

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

Taglist for Ice Cream, Bikinis, and Other Ways To Torture Him: @emxxblog @transparentenemypenguin @stylesxmunson @ali-r3n @mediocredreams @miaajaade @dreamerjj @prestinalove @pretty-pink-princess @alesiaaa @moonisu @love-anonymous-writer @marlena-marlena @bl1ssfulbaby @kellsck @rockmusiciscalming12 @eddie-munsonsbitch

[mmunson86]

agreed Sundays are meant to be lazy who dare wake us up at 7 am, like hello can a bitch get some rest? Oo-oooh okay well look we can make an exception its Eddie and that smile knocks me right off my feet how can i even stay mad🥹

“I know. Perfect time for a walk in the park.”

Edward Munson you have to be kidding who goes for a walk at 7 am on a Sunday, he would be the last person i can think of who would want to be up early getting his steps in🤣

“Maybe I’ve got a surprise up my sleeve or something.”

Please Eddie stop with this BF behavior because a bitch is ready to pounce on you & ask you to marry us already staaaahp🙈

Not us avoiding this man & dragging him to get pancakes lol loook Eddie we got alot on our mind & after listening to that song you wrote?!? It left a bitch speachless because it has to be one of the sweetest things anyone has done, not just that but we got what we have been begging to get out of this man🥹💗

Ohh it cant be that bad right? They are your friends but guys yall are cock blocking hard right now, at least we have pancakes 🤣💗

Edddieeee i am melting in your presence staahp it as much as i would love to just be in this moment with you we cant just ditch your friends , work you say? 🤨🙈

“We could just take a flight out somewhere far away from them, princess. Say the word, and I’ll book it.”

Please i am screaming and loosing my mind who is this? Eddie OMG this is making my head spin this man is just he is just … i am lost for words 🥹🫶🏻

Yeah sharing is caring but this is our meal too you know, you could have ordered yourself a side of strawberries😅

Ohh relax Eddie LMAO we do care about you don’t be dramatic now , remember you hated our guts and it only took you a month to finally admit that you are like in love with us soo maybe we left out that we met Ozzy no biggie🤭💗

Eddie that’s nonsense. I am sure that Ozzy would be more than delighted to meet the boys of Corroded Coffin just keep in mind what we said clean up your act, ditch the parties & the walking STD’s that line up at your guys door every night , y’all are extremely talented🥹💗

I like how we are still guarding ourselves because well the last thing we want is to get hurt & its clear that Eddie is being true with his intentions with us…not just that but he is really trying like really really trying🥹🫶🏻💗

God wait no Eddie no no no its not what we meant ohh fuck me for goodness sakes why must things get complicated? I just want to love this man 😭

Ahh yes the walking train wrecks who sorry ladies but even your Sundays best is not enough to compete with what a real woman could offer the men of CC sorry not sorry

LOOOK you dumb cunt! LANY i am talking to you! (sorry but i cant hold back) it doesn’t matter if you knew him before he had a dime you are nothing but a pice of ass nothing he would settle down with sorry he got tired of your expired roast beed and got him a pice of filet mignon! Somebody who is willing to love him & not fuck every front man of every band! You heard him he wants nothing to do with you! Take your ass out or ill gladly do it 😉

“Where the fuck have you been hiding this, princess?”

Ohh this little number? We were just you know saving it for a special occasion or you know for the day you finally pulled your head out of your ass, glad you liked it😌

That fucking biitch! She was the one putting Eddies business out to the tabloids this entire time?!! Makes my blood boil🤬

Wait, no no wait wait wait, you can’t do this to me? Wait, STINK hold on. No, no my heart my heart I mean I understand why this has to be done but no, no my heart can’t take this somebody please and help somebody. Please hold me. I can’t do this. I’m crying I’m sobbing. I’m throwing up and not in a good way🤣😭.

my emotions throughout the entire chapter⬇️

PRICE OF FAME (PART 11/?)

gasp she's finally here !!!

18+ — MINORS DNI

pairing: rockstar!eddie x journalist!reader

summary: the last day of tour has arrived and you're pushed to make a difficult choice

contains: enemies to lovers trope, alcohol consumption, smoking, sexual themes, mentions of oral, angst, and more glimpses of eddie being boyfriend coded <3

word count: 6k

| previous part | next part |

| series masterlist | -main masterlist- |

song inspo for this chappy, thx to my stink @mmunson86 ily hehe:

Sunday mornings are meant for being lazy.

You wake up, you toss around in bed for a bit, maybe turn on the TV, and order food if you’re at a nice hotel like you are now— which had been your plan. You had wanted to try the strawberry crepes here for ages, and you planned to finally order it to start the last day of your short-lived tour on the right foot— but apparently, someone doesn’t believe in the mainstream concept of Sunday morning.

It’s seven in the morning when you get a knock on your door. You want to ignore it— and you have every intention to do so— except the person at the door is incessant and apparently doesn’t get the hint of silence.

It makes sense, though, when you open the door to see who is banging on your door like a madman. Eddie, of course. 

“Housekeeping!”

He’s got a cute, wide smile and damp curls that make your chest flutter even though you still have one foot in a dream. Although, you think the dream might be the man standing before you, clad in jeans and a graphic tee, and beaming at you.

“Eddie, it’s seven in the morning.” You grumble.

Eddie’s smile widens, “I know. Perfect time for a walk in the park.” He says before pushing past you and walking into your room. Your eyebrows furrow as you watch him walk over to your window and open the blinds. You rapidly blink at the sunlight, “I– what? A walk?”

Eddie turns to you, smiling still as he nods, “Yes. Down at Central Park. They’ve always got cute dogs down there, and I know a place with pancakes to die for.”

You’re too tired to even wrap your mind around how cute of an image Eddie with dogs would be, “Woah… woah, woah, wait— Eddie, I— I would love to,” you blink hard, “But I’m still half asleep, and I only got to bed like four hours ago, so I think I’d pass out on a walk right now.” You softly laugh.

You feel a twinge of guilt stir in your gut, so you step forward to Eddie, reaching out to rest a hand on his bicep and gently squeeze, “Why don’t we order coffee up and sit on the balcony until my mind warms up a bit?” You offer.

Which, now that you think of it, was a perfect idea because there’s a cool breeze this morning that gives you an excuse to press up against Eddie’s side and curl into the heat of him as you sip on warm coffee and watch Eddie burn through cigarettes. Eddie was bold enough to drag your legs to rest across his lap, and you decide to blame your compliance on lack of sleep rather than desire.

“Are you nervous for tonight?” You wonder aloud, watching as the morning sun cracks through his fluttering eyelashes. Eddie’s lips pull into a smile, “No.” He leans into you, “Are you?”

You snort, pressing your fingers into the warm ceramic mug, “Why would I be nervous?”

Eddie shrugs, “Maybe I’ve got a surprise up my sleeve or something.” He teases. His fingers are warm and send goosebumps across your skin as they dance across your leg, inching up your thigh until you slightly squirm. Eddie doesn’t even try to hide the smirk on his lips.

You ignore his wandering hands as best as you can, although the lick of heat that runs up your spine when he fiddles with the hem of your baggy shirt sends your mind spinning, a dull throb of your center when his knuckles brush the crease of your hip. You raise an eyebrow, gazing at him and cocking your head to the side, “Well, do you?”

Eddie glances at you, busy drawing stars inside your thighs, “No.”

You roll your eyes, shoving your foot into his jean-clad thigh as he barks out a laugh, hands squeezing your bare calves. “That’s not funny, Munson. You’re on probation, you know?”

Eddie tilts his head, dreamy gaze in his eyes as he gently squeezes your calves, “I know. I’m working on it, though… which reminds me—” You take a deep breath, slinking your legs out of his grip and sitting up straight to stretch, “Think I’m in the mood for those pancakes now.” You hum.

Eddie gazes at you, jaw loose as he watches you stand up and completely dodge what he’s been spinning out about for the last twenty-four hours. “Birdie—” “Yeah, I’m starving now that I think of it. Let’s go.” You wrap your fingers around his wrist and tug him up, ignoring his grumbles of protest.

It should be studied, the pull Eddie has on you, because here you both are in a booth at an old breakfast diner, and all you can think about is how you want nothing more than to slink over to the other side and burrow yourself in the warmth of his embrace.

But Eddie’s friends are here.

The entire ensemble: Nancy, Robin, Steve, Gareth, Jeff, and even Eric, who you hardly even see because he’s the busiest with groupies out of the Corroded Coffin band.

They caught you and Eddie on your way down to the lobby, and well… they just tagged along. Eddie wasn’t so happy about it, mumbling about how he can never shake these assholes, but you just snickered and told him to be nice.

So, now, you’re sitting across from Eddie in a diner with the smell of pancakes and maple syrup wafting through the air and a friendly chatter ringing throughout the table.

You try your hardest to pay attention to the conversations, but it’s hard when Eddie is glancing at you with these eyes that melt your insides. It doesn’t help when he leans forward on the table, shoulders pressing into the edge as his fingers skim your knee beneath it. You raise an eyebrow when he takes a menu, opens it, and stands it up to block the view of his friends as he beckons you forward. You lean forward, chest fluttering at the sight of Eddie’s pretty eyes so up close, pouty lips and curly hair that you want to reach out and card your fingers through. He’s a dream, no doubt about it.

“Let’s ditch them.”

You snort, rolling your eyes, “You can’t ditch your friends, Eddie.”

Eddie makes a face, “Why not? They crashed, and I have work to do.”

You tilt your head in confusion, “Work?”

Eddie grumbles, his voice carrying an obvious tone, “Yeah, I’ve only got until tonight to pay my dues.” He reminds you. You hum with a teasing glint, “I reckon that’s a fault on your part, Munson.”

Before Eddie can respond, the menu is torn out of his hands to reveal Gareth and Jeff snickering, “You do know we can still see you two, right?” Eric teases.

Eddie rolls his eyes, “I don’t know if you dipshits got the memo, but you definitely weren’t invited to this.”

You giggle, nudging your foot against his shin, “Don’t be rude,” You mumble. “Yeah, Eddie, don’t be rude.” Robin teases. 

Eddie grumbles, ignoring his snickering friends as he stands up, “All of you can fuck right off.” He sticks up a decorated middle finger to his table of friends, and you smile as you slide out of the booth, warmth spreading through your body when he reaches around to grab your sweater. 

“Oh, come on, we were just joking, Eds!”

Eddie waves them off, slinking an arm around your body to rest a hand on the small of your back, gently ushering you toward the exit as his friends create a scene.

“Hey, don’t be late to soundcheck, asshole, we won’t hear the end of it from Richie!” Jeff calls out, but Eddie doesn’t answer because he’s walking you both outside of the diner and muttering something about them being a pain in his ass.

“We could just take a flight out somewhere far away from them, princess. Say the word, and I’ll book it.” Eddie jokingly offers. You smile as you take your sweater from him with a small thanks, “They love you. That’s a good thing to have.” You remind him. Eddie rolls his eyes, scratching at the back of his neck as you begin walking down the street, “Sure, except not when I have important things to do. Which, when are you gonna put me out of my misery and tell me what you think?”

You hum, feing ignorance as you blink up at Eddie, “Think about what, Eddie?” 

Eddie stares at you, blinking once before his lips spread into a smile, “You’re lucky you’re pretty.” He teasingly says through gritted teeth, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you in as he jokingly presses his palm to your face, laughing as you squeal and squirm in his hold. “Eddie Munson thinks I’m pretty. How cute.” You mock as you grapple at his wrist, prying his hand from your face, “Only took him a month to figure that out.”

Eddie laughs, “See, that’s where you’re wrong, sweetheart,” He drawls, “I always knew you were pretty. I never thought you weren’t pretty. Who told you that?” “Nobody told me that; you just,” you shrug, “Kind of hated my guts, so it went hand in hand.”

Eddie’s eyes soften at that, and your cheeks warm as his gaze zones in on you. You clear your throat, glancing away, “Are we going to eat or what, Munson? I told you I’m starving, and you just dragged me out of that diner, so.” 

Eddie nods, “Yeah, yeah,” He waves before lacing his fingers with yours to drag you along, “I got a place in mind; let’s go.”

“If you wanted strawberries on your pancakes, then you should’ve asked for them.”

Eddie, you are learning, has sticky fingers. Sticky in the metaphorical sense where he just takes things without asking and sticky in the literal sense where he keeps reaching over to steal strawberries from your plate and ends up dipping his fingers in your maple syrup as well.

He’s like a child for fucks sake! Touching things he shouldn’t be touching and grinning at you with a ‘you can’t do anything about it because I’m cute’ glint in his eyes.

You watch as Eddie sucks the syrup off his thumb and smirks at you as he says, “Sharing is caring, you know?”

You look at his plate, tilting your head with a smirk before asking, “Yeah? Then can I have your hash browns?” Eddie glances at his plate, a frown spreading across his lips as he looks at you, “But there’s barely any left.” He points out.

Your eyebrows raise, and he sighs in defeat, cutting into his hash browns to give you half of it. You snicker as he carefully reaches over to put the side dish on your plate, pursing your lips to hold a laugh when you look up at him. “What’s so funny?” He grumbles, stabbing into his food and shoving a fork full into his mouth.

“Nothing. I just, like, hate hash browns.”

Eddie stops midchew, looking up at you for a brief moment. He’s silent as he resumes chewing his food and swallowing, quietly eyeing you for a moment before clearing his throat. “You hate hash browns?” He asks.

You nod as you take a bite of your eggs, and Eddie looks at you like you just told him something concerning. “I—... what do you mean you hate hash browns? Do you like potatoes?”

You shrug, taking a sip of your drink, “Sure.”

“Do you like fries?”

“I love fries.”

“Tater tots?”

“I like them every now and then,” You shrug.

Eddie’s head cocks in confusion, eyes narrowing, “So what’s the problem with hash browns?”

Your eyebrows raise, and an amused smile spreads across your lips, “Holy shit. I’m getting the sense that you might, I don’t know… love hash browns or something?”

Eddie scoffs, “Of course I fucking love hash browns. Are you fucking kidding me? Who doesn’t like hash browns?”

“Tommy Lommi.”

“Well then, they’re fucking weird— wait…” Eddie blinks at you and stares like you’ve just discovered time travel. “What do you mean, Tommy Lommi? How do you know Tommy Lommi hates hash browns?”

You shrug, “Ate breakfast with the band a few years ago. They gave him hash browns, and he returned the entire plate. A lot of people hate hash browns, Eddie.”

Eddie waves a hand in dismissal, scooting closer to the table as he responds in a hurried and amused tone, “You had breakfast with Black fucking Sabbath?” He exclaims.

You hold back a smile as you blink at the man before you, his brown eyes wide and blown from adrenaline, “Yeah, it— it was, like, a work thing. I was doing a short piece on them, so Anna and I had lunch with them and their manager.” At the mention of your manager's name, you make a mental note to call and update her on your piece.

Eddie raises two hands to his head, grasping his hair like he’s in distress, as he lets out a loud sound, drawing attention. You giggle, reaching out to grab his wrist and lower him back down to the table, “Eddie, you’re making a scene—” “You met Ozzy, and you just, like, casually forgot to mention that to me? Like he’s not my idol? Like he’s not my literal lord and savior? Do you even care about me?” He exclaims in a loud voice. 

Your eyes widen in amusement as the man practically spins out right in front of you. “I’m sorry! I didn’t think it— wait, haven’t you met him before? Like on a red carpet or something?”

Eddie scoffs, leaning back into the booth and pulling a face like the words you’ve just said are rubbish. “Yeah, right. Like Ozzy Osborne would willingly surround himself with a bunch of untrained nuts like the boys of Corroded Coffin. He’s a professional, Birdie. That’s an insult.”

You giggle, gently nudging your plate away, taking a deep breath from feeling so full as you shrug, “Maybe if you cleaned up your act, it would happen.” You teasingly say.

Eddie looks at you, runs his eyes over your face, and smirks as he folds his arms over his chest, reaching up with one hand to twirl a piece of his hair between his fingers. “Yeah? And how do you suggest we do that?” He slinks his feet forward, gently tapping his shoe against yours before hooking an ankle around yours.

You hum, “I don’t know. Maybe cut back on the parties. Less reckless act and more calculated rockstar. Less groupies… none, if that.” You mutter the last part, and Eddie snickers. He hums as well, tipping his head side to side as if he’s thinking, “And would you say maybe,” He clears his throat, “Like, a girlfriend would do good as well?”

You huff out a laugh, “Nice try, Munson.” You snicker. “You’re far from girlfriend status with me.” 

Eddie lowly hums, taking a deep breath as he shifts in his seat, “Yeah, well, I intend on changing that, so, are you done eating?”

Eddie’s sure that Richie will chew him out.

It’s the last day of tour before the next leg starts in a month, and Eddie is almost an hour late to soundcheck. Richie was adamant about being on schedule for today because it’s the last show, and Richie’s a goddamn perfectionist (who would take on the job of managing a group of rowdy rockstars if they have the personality of a fucking sergeant?). But honestly, Eddie doesn’t have a single bone in him that cares because— well, why would he care when he’s spent all day with you practically pressed into his side? 

You’re Eddie’s every dream compacted into the cutest, kindest, prettiest human he’s ever fucking known, and Eddie keeps having these moments where he wants to smash his head through a brick wall for ever letting a cruel word form on his tongue towards you. He would pay an endless amount of money to rewind time and do it over again, do it right, and give you the respect you deserve.

Then maybe you would stop dodging his kisses.

“Come on, just one?” He begs, watching as you walk a few steps ahead of him. Eddie won’t lie; it’s a great view he’s got from behind. You’re wearing these black ripped jeans that hug your ass and thighs so perfectly Eddie wants nothing more than to sink his teeth into you.

You shake your head, “Nope. A kiss has never been a kiss with you, and I’m not too keen on giving Richie more reasons to put me in time-out. You’re also definitely still on probation.”

Eddie grunts, “This is just cruel, sweetheart.”

He jogs a bit to catch up to speed with you, “While we’re on the topic, what’d he say to you?”

You glance at Eddie, brows furrowing, “Who? Richie?”

Eddie nods, and you shrug. “I assume the same thing he told you. Told me to hold off on it until the magazine blows over in the fanbase.”

Eddie hums because, well, that’s not what Richie told Eddie. Actually, Richie told Eddie to just forget it, don’t even attempt to do anything with that woman because when you fuck up, I’m gonna be the one left to clean it up. And isn’t that Richie’s fucking job? Isn’t that precisely why Richie was hired? To clean up the boys’ mess and make their appearance seem squeaky clean. 

“I don’t blame him, though.” 

Eddie’s neck practically snaps in your direction, and he has to stop you from walking any further down the backstage hallways because what the fuck are you saying right now?

“What do you mean?”

You shrug, glancing up at Eddie, “I mean, he’s just doing his job, Eddie. He’s trying to protect your image, and, honestly, I didn’t understand where he was coming from until he pointed out that I’m still practically press in the eyes of the industry, so.”

“Well, that’s bullshit.” Eddie snaps. Doesn’t mean to snap, really. Doesn’t mean to have a harsh tone or sound upset with you because he’s not. He’s upset with the situation and the absolute mess he’s created from having his head up his ass for so long. He’s upset because he doesn’t want to wait until the magazine blows over. He’s upset because he’s finally admitting to what he wants, and you’re right there, and he wants to work on getting you but fucking Richie— jesus christ, Eddie’s going to choke that bastard.

“That doesn’t even fucking make sense,” Eddie exclaims, “I already fucked up. There’s not much to fuck up at this rate.”

“It’s different when there’s feelings involved, Eddie.” And Eddie doesn’t like that. He doesn’t like that you sound as if you’re siding with Richie, and he doesn’t like that you’re using your hot ass journalist tone with him. “What difference does it make?” Eddie stresses.

“Because shit could hit the fan. Things could go bad again, and, in Richie’s eyes, I could easily become an enemy. It’s a rational call to make.”

No.

No, no, no, this isn’t what Eddie wants, and it’s not how Eddie wants you picturing what you two could be— a disaster. 

Eddie blinks, heart pounding in his chest because god, he wants you and he’s scared he’s lost you before even getting the chance to fix things. “So… is that— is that what you want? To wait?”

You gaze up at Eddie, “I— no?”

Eddie frowns, stomach churning as you look away to avoid his gaze, “That didn’t sound confident. You don’t want to do this?”

“It’s… That’s not what I’m saying. I just— I’m not quite sure where this is aiming.”

“What do you mean? I told you how I feel.”

You make an exasperated noise, stepping out from the wall Eddie had you caged against, “No, you haven’t told me how you feel. You’ve told me what you want. That’s not enough.”

And you’re looking at Eddie with these eyes that make him want to crack open his chest and let you see it for yourself because fuck, the only time Eddie has ever confessed his feelings to someone, she ended up breaking his heart without a single care in the world.

And for this entire month, you’ve been slipping from Eddie’s hands, but this is the time that he’s actually felt it. He feels dizzy and sick and so angry with himself.

“I— well, how do you feel?” Eddie asks.

It’s like time slows as you gaze up at Eddie, eyes filled with so many words and uncertainty that Eddie has only himself to blame for. “I don’t know.” You softly reply.

Eddie says nothing as he stares back, gently nodding as you slink your arms around yourself, “I don’t know, Eddie. I’m… I don’t know this side of you— and that’s not to say I don’t like or want it, but— but what happens when we get bored without the chase?” 

Eddie’s heart breaks. 

“When?”

Your eyes fall shut, and you shake your head, “That’s not what I meant–” “But that’s what you said.”

“Yes, but I didn’t mean for it to come out that way. You know what I mean, Eddie.”

Eddie scoffs as he steps back, “No, Birdie, honestly, I don’t. I’m actually, like, really fucking confused right now.”

Your face twists in defense and your eyes glint with something that Eddie can’t quite put his finger on, and it makes him want to scream. “You seriously can’t be upset with me for being hesitant on this, Eddie.”

Eddie looks at you, pauses, and holds his breath before shaking his head, “No, I’m—” He steps forward, “I’m sorry. I’m not upset.”

Your lips are pulled into a frown as Eddie reaches out to softly skim his knuckles across your elbow, silently asking for you to stay open for him. “I’m not upset with you.” He repeats. 

You don’t step closer or move away, and Eddie takes that as a win either way. But before either of you can say anything else, Eddie is being whisked away with his assistant and promising to finish the conversation afterward.

You don’t see Eddie for the rest of the day, and for the first time, it’s not Eddie’s fault but yours.

You regret to admit that the small dispute you and Eddie had caused you to spiral within your thoughts, and you spent most of the day holed up in your room packing, writing, pacing, and thinking until you exhausted yourself. On a good note, though, the day passes quickly, and before you know it, you’re making your way down the Madison Square Garden backstage halls.

You’ve walked these halls enough to know your way around by heart now, so you don’t have trouble finding the dressing room. The usual small group of ladies that stand outside are there in their Sunday best for the show finale, passing a blunt between each other— and you don’t even notice the missing leader of the group until she’s storming out of the room.

“Fuck you, Eddie!” She turns to yell into the room. You watch from a few feet away, stunned and slightly terrified. She’s beautiful, even as mad as she is now; her red hair is styled in bouncy curls that jump and jolt with each wave of her hand, her heeled boots clicking on the ground with each stomp of her heel. She steps into the room, pointing at someone who you can only assume to be Eddie, but the door obstructs your view, “I knew you before you had a single fucking dime! If you think for one second she’s gonna stick with you through all of your bullshit rock and roll facade, then you’re wrong!” She snaps.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Kenny, please get rid of her.” You hear the familiar grumble of Eddie’s voice. Kenny, the security guard by the door, steps forward and ushers the angry woman away from the threshold. “Don’t fucking touch me.” She snatches her arm from his hold, and Kenny lifts a hand in surrender, “Look, I’m gonna have to get you banned from the building if you don’t leave. Make my job easier, please.” Kenny replies in a bored tone.

The girl scoffs with a roll of her eyes before turning around and storming down the hall, her posse quickly trotting behind.

You don’t hear the usual chatter in the dressing room, so you’re slightly suspicious as you walk up, kindly smiling towards Kenny as he lets you in. The door shuts behind you, and you take in the empty room, void of the usual hustle of band members and staff. 

“Kenny, I swear to god, if it’s another groupie, I’m gonna fire you.” You hear Eddie say from the ensuite restroom. Eddie doesn’t notice you as he walks into the room, busy ruffling his hair up for the show and walking toward the vanity, “I already told you who to let in.” 

Finally, Eddie lifts his head, a cigarette hanging from his lips as his eyes brighten when he sees you through the vanity mirror. You smile, shifting in your spot as Eddie whips around to look at you, “Hi.”

Eddie’s eyes widen as he takes in the view, eyes raking over your body as he blindly snuffs out his cigarette on the wooden vanity, face stunned as he walks over to you, “What the fuck?” He lowly says.

He’s reaching out to loop his fingers around your wrist and bring you closer, eyes traveling further and further down your frame, “What the fuck?” He repeats.

“Eddie,” You groan. “Where the fuck have you been hiding this, princess?” He exclaims.

“It’s nothing. Stop.” You grumble, but Eddie only shakes his head, “Nothing? Are you insane?” He steps back, hand wrapped in yours as his teeth dig into his bottom lip, “Let me look at you, come on.”

Your dress is black, tight, and form-fitting, with an off-the-shoulder neckline and a puffy lace hem matching the long sleeves' scrunchie endings. Two thin black straps hug your shoulders, tauntingly digging into your collarbones. The dress stops just above the middle of your thigh, leaving little to the imagination—- much in Eddie’s favor. Below the dress peeks out a black garter belt, two shiny silver clips winking at Eddie as they hold up your black thigh-high stockings. Your feet are held in shiny black stilettos. Sex.

Eddie nearly whimpers.

Eddie wants to sink to his knees, push up the skirt of your dress, and stuff his face between your legs. He wants to make you cum on his tongue until you’re pushing him away and begging for a break. Wants to feel the nylon stretch of your stockings scratching up against his ears as your legs clamp around his head. God, Eddie wants it, he wants it so fucking bad.

You smell sweet and taste even sweeter when Eddie presses his lips to yours, practically swallowing you whole— he would if he had the choice. Your lips split into a smile against Eddie’s, breathily laughing as he blindly leads you to the vanity, walking until he feels your body softly thud against the counter.

“Jesus. I’m gonna fuckin’ lose it,” Eddie grumbles against your lips, sloppy and wet, as he trails down to your jaw, neck, and collarbones. His hands are greedy as they grapple at your hips, squeezing the thicker parts to tilt you towards him, groaning when your pelvis drags against his quickly hardening length. You pant his name, one hand dropping to steady yourself against the counter as the other hand sinks into his damp, curly strands. Eddie groans, stuffing his face into your neck, licking and biting as he grinds you against him. You’re all whiney breaths and moans, and Eddie just can’t help himself when he nudges his nose against the strap of your dress before sticking his tongue out and dragging it up the length of the flimsy black piece.

Your head drops back, chest rising and falling with a sinful glisten under the vanity lights as Eddie drags his tongue all the way from your shoulder to your chin before smashing his lips back onto yours, fingers curled around the base of your neck. Wet, hot, and heavy.

Your lips curl against Eddie’s mouth, hips grinding against him, “S-should I be concerned about the angry woman that just stormed out of here?” You lowly ask.

Eddie laughs, smearing his lips against yours, teasingly flicking his tongue into your mouth, “Definitely not. Good fucking riddance.” Eddie can’t wait to tell you all about how he learned about Lany’s money-greedy actions that led him to the page of every tabloid with a false girlfriend.

You fail terribly to hold the snort that rises in your throat, and Eddie cuts it off with his mouth, swallowing your hums as he presses his body into yours. 

“Want you.” Eddie needily whispers. You whine, fingers curling against Eddie’s roots to draw a throaty groan from him. “Need to have you, baby—” “I— wait, wait, wait.” Your hands are pressing against Eddie’s shoulders, and god, Eddie feels lightheaded as he pulls away, blown-out eyes blinking down at you.

You huff, squirming against the counter, breath heavy and bated as you reach down to tug your dress down, “We need to talk.” 

Eddie swallows, running a hand through his hair as he gazes at you— and fuck, he’s so hard, and you’re so pretty, and Eddie thinks he might bust just looking at you.

Still, Eddie blinks through the thick fog of arousal and nods, taking a moment to not-so-discreetly adjust himself within his pants. 

Ever the gentleman, Eddie offers you the seat at the vanity, but you only shake your head, and well— fuck, Eddie just wants to get back to kissing you so he doesn’t fight it. He hops up onto the chair and gazes at you as you lean back against the vanity, fingers fidgeting with one another.

You’re avoiding Eddie’s gaze, and Eddie doesn’t like it very much, so he distracts himself by lighting a cigarette, but it does little to aid him in distraction when the words slip from your mouth.

“I think we need time away from each other.”

Eddie’s looking at you like you just told him you killed his dog, and you hate that you start feeling as if you’re wrecking everything when you know— when you both know— this is the best thing for the future.

The unlit cigarette between Eddie’s lips is removed and tossed to the side as he blinks at you, shaking his head with a confused and hurt expression, “W–what do you mean?”

You slink your arms across your body from instinct, mentally pushing yourself to stand on the rocky island you’ve built— because even though you want nothing more than to cave and throw yourself into Eddie’s arms and start over, it’s not right. You didn’t start on a good note, and it’s unfair to yourself or Eddie to avoid fully acknowledging that just because of your intense pull toward one another. You both need time.

“I don’t understand.”

“Just so we can have the space to figure out what we want and need from each other, you know?”

Eddie runs a hand over his face, “Is this about what happened earlier? Because I was being an asshole, I know, and I’m sorry, but just give me a chance–” You shake your head, stepping closer to Eddie and running your fingers over his wrists, “No. No, that’s not what this is about— I mean, it might’ve spurred it on, but it was on my mind before that.”

Eddie’s face twists in defeat, “I want to fix what I did, baby, just give me a chance.” 

You push his long bangs from his eyes, “I am, Eddie. I promise I am. But I need space— we need space.”

Eddie doesn’t even look at you, and your heart aches. “Everything’s been so quick, Eddie. It’s only been a month, and there’s been so many emotions—”

“That’s bullshit, Birdie, and you know it.”

You tense at his harsh tone, “Excuse me?”

“You said when,” He reminds you, “When you get bored. You really expect me to believe you ‘just want space’? You’re scared.” 

Your eyebrows dip in anger then, eyes narrowing at the man in front of you as your chest tightens, “And you’re not?”

“Yes!” He exclaims, ringed hands flailing in exasperation. “Yes, I’m fucking scared, obviously. I never would’ve fucked up this bad if I wasn’t scared.”

Your eyes are brimmed with tears, and you’re beginning to think maybe you shouldn’t have even come tonight. Maybe you should’ve just left without a single word and made Eddie hate you all over again. At least the foundations of your relationship were solid and clearly stated then.

How could everything have gotten so confusing in such little time?

Eddie notices your shifting demeanor and breathes, rubbing his eyes and smudging his eyeliner. You fight the instinct to reach out and fix it for him. “Okay, so… you want time apart.”

You nod, fingers twisting amongst themselves. Eddie turns his rings around his knuckles as silence cracks down on you both. Eddie swallows, eyes catching yours for a split moment, “Okay.” He nods.

You want to sink your hands into his and tell him you’re hurting just as much, wanting him just as much, but if you touch him now, you’re afraid you’ll never let go.

“It’ll be good, Eds.” You softly say.

The curtain of his hair obstructs Eddie’s face, but through the tiny windows, you can see the twitch of pain that flashes across his features. “Are you staying for the show?” He asks, eyes trained on his busy fingers, rings glistening in the lights. God, you want to give in to him so badly.

You shift in your spot, clearing your throat and blinking away tears, “I’ll never leave if I do…”

As if on cue, Kenny opens the door and pokes his head into the room, calling for Eddie to notify him of the running clock. You and Eddie only speak through gazes for a split moment, and you both know if he stays any longer, neither will leave this room. You only have enough strength to nod towards the door.

You can’t even watch Eddie leave. Because watching Eddie go seems to be the recurring theme of the month— but now, you’re sending him away— and it hurts. You were so close yet so far away from justice.

The dressing room is vast and holds Eddie's phantom presence and smell, and you can’t seem to hold the silent tears that end up soaking your cheeks. You can hear the distant screaming of fans, the loud booming of the opening to a song, and deep down, you understand that if you don’t leave now, you’ll end up in the crowd, there’s no doubt.

You don’t recognize the opening song for tonight, but you hear the words and Eddie’s voice crystal clear— tugging you back with every step you take towards the arena's door.

My head is haunting me and my heart feels like a ghost

I need to feel something, 'cause I'm still so far from home

Cross your heart and hope to die

Promise me you'll never leave my side

…..

So, you can drag me through hell

If it meant I could hold your hand

I will follow you, 'cause I'm under your spell

And you can throw me to the flames

I will follow you, I will follow you

The song echoes in your mind from the time the door slams shut to the moment you step into your cold apartment in Michigan, and it never stops.

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part twelve

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a/n: OHHH PLS DONT HATE ME IT HAD TO BE DONE AND IM SORRY THIS IS ON NEW YEARS EVE !!! these two will be back for one more round of fun in 2024. ok let me shut up before i start saying all my sob shit

as always, thank u for reading if you've made it this far and i appreciate any feedback, ILY AND I HOPE YOU ALL HAVE A BEAUTIFUL NEW YEARS, STAY SAFE PLS <3

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cutie lil taglist: @mastermindmiko @whataboutbibi @ryanmxrie @ihatepeanutss @tlclick73 @motherfckerrr @emxxblog @ye0nvibezzn @eddiesguitarskills @bibieddiesgf @chloe-6123 @micheledawn1975 @demxnicprxncess @emma77645 @sidthedollface2

@daddyhetfield @s-u-t @hereforshmut @mmunson86 @welcometohellsock @lma1986 @birdsinmywalls @animechick555 @sheneedsrocknroll92 @spideydreams00 @lorosette @prestinalove @sirensleepingsoundly @nabiiturner @catherinnn @mossiswriting @kellsck @joannamuns9n @siriuslysmoking

[undead-supernova]

For Worse or For Better / Masterlist

Chapter 10 / Chapter 11 / Chapter 12 (TBC)

plot: it's time to face the music. remind him how it used to be. and finally say you want him. for ever and ever.

Pairings: modernrockstar!Eddie x fem!popstar!Reader (curvy!reader, bisexual!reader)

Warnings: none I can think of!

wc: 3k

Eddie had always been a sight to see.  

His beauty, the kind others would die to witness up close, had once belonged to you. Since the night you met, standing next to the bar in that neon glow, every passing day had been another image, another secret desire to see him again. 

But you were no longer his.

And now here you were, staring at each other at the threshold of a castle you once had permission to roam. 

You must’ve been a sight to see, makeup dripping down your face and hair completely soaked. Shaking from the rain, feeling it seep into your skin. Not the perfect image that graced magazine covers and sashayed across stages. No, you were human for once.

No longer a machine.

“It’s been a long fucking six months,” Eddie said finally.

God, his voice. That hint of gravel, exhaustion weighing on him in the dead of night. The way it still caressed your heart that you were convinced wasn’t beating anymore. You wanted to reach out, to pull him into your arms and weep.

But all you could say was, “I know.”

“And, what,” he continued, as if you’d said nothing. “You just show up out of thin air?”

“I know.”

“Are you insane? What are you doing here?”

I miss you. I love you. I never should’ve walked away. We’re both in too much pain to keep doing this to ourselves. I miss you. I love you. I’m sorry.

But it just sat there, heavy in your throat as it tried to make its way into your mouth. It was no use. There were too many words, too many speeches you could throw out to try and convince him that you were telling the truth.

And none of it slipped past your lips.

At the sound of cracked lightning, Eddie seemed to finally register the storm and shook his head. “Ah, shit. Come in, you’re soaked.” He moved away from the door, allowing you to tiptoe into the foyer of a house that felt so foreign to you now. “I’ll, uh, get you a towel.”

Eddie slammed the door before walking right past you. Not sparing you a glance, but still venturing down the hallway and out of sight.

Immediately, you crouched down and tried to remove your soaked Keds, unable to stop yourself from cringing at how heavy your socks even felt. Soaked through, dripping onto the tile the moment they were off. 

You kicked them next to the door before you let your eyes wander around the space, absorbing the fact that nothing had been moved. Nothing had changed. It was as if it was stuck in your time of wild, of oasis. That smell, his smell, invaded any and every thought you had. The one that still left you breathless, tinged with romanticism, having to hold onto the nearest doorframe to keep yourself from falling over.

And in the quick flash of lightning rippling across the walls, you saw a little black cat scurrying towards you. 

“Hey, Oz,” you mumbled, crouching down to scratch his head. Watched his mouth open in a silent coo, totally oblivious to state of your relationship with his dad. If there was one at all.

There was a flashback that you couldn’t stop, that moment Oz scratched at that back door. Waiting for you and Eddie to get out of the pool, that beautiful summer night laced with something resembling forever. You had no idea back then. And there was nothing you could’ve done to change the course of your future.

When Eddie slowly made his way back, he held the towel out for you. Slowly, you rose back up, all the while staring at the object in his hand. The same towel you always grabbed whenever you’d stayed over. The same one he swaddled you in that night. God, you felt sick.

“Thanks,” you said anyways, taking the time to wipe off.

“James let you in, huh?” he asked, turning back around and walking towards the living room. You took it as a sign to follow, your feet on the freezing floor making you shiver. 

“Yeah, Scott helped.”

“Awesome,” he said sarcastically before sighing. “Well, uh, why’re you here then?”

Before you could get the courage to answer him, you glanced over at his couch. And you felt silly. It was just a couch, after all. But there were so many nights attached to it, each cushion committed to your memory. You knew where it dipped the best and where you sank like quicksand. There was even an ice cream stain, curtesy of you, still visible from where you stood.

And you could’ve sworn you heard your mingled laughter in the quiet.

Wiggling your toes on the tile, you stared down at your feet. “I wanted to talk.”

“About what?”

Your eyes snapped back up to meet his, frustration flaring at the absurdity of that question. “About what? Really? What do you think I wanted to talk about?”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “Jesus, of course I know what you wanna talk about. I just thought you could, you know, say it yourself?”

“I’m sorry!” you yelled. “Okay? I’m fucking sorry.”

“Oh, yeah?” he challenged, crossing his arms over his chest. “Really?”

“Yes!”

He leaned in, toward you. “What are you sorry for, hm?” he mocked.

“I’m a fucking idiot, Eddie,” you stated, dropping the towel to the ground. “A goddamn idiot. I screwed up and I’m sorry.”

“That all you’re sorry for?”

“Eddie, no. Jesus Christ. I just…” You shook your head, placing your hands on your opposite shoulders. Tried to let the pressure calm your mind, ease the flood. But the tide was already taking your thoughts back to the ocean. You were already turning back into sea foam. “I don’t know where to even start, but… I shouldn’t have left. I shouldn’t have walked away. And I should’ve said this stuff a long time ago.”

“You have a phone,” he said with an edge to his tone. “You could’ve called.” He looked up before he sniffled. “I don’t get it. Sometimes, I sit in bed and I just…don’t get it. Like, at all. You liked that I didn’t listen to the world. You liked that I wanted to be with you. You liked that I stayed when it got bad. When did all of that shit stop being enough?”

“Eddie…”

“When did I stop being enough?”

“That’s not it—”

Eddie interrupted, saying your name with a sigh. “Like, you made me more of a secret. Kept me from being able to support you. And I get that you wanted privacy, but that doesn’t mean you can just treat me like that when everyone already fucking knows. Like, why bother?” His head shook as he sighed again. “Not to mention, you did all the shit your exes did to you. Like, what kind of game is that? What makes you think that it’s okay?”

“I know,” you agreed. “And I don’t think it’s okay. I didn’t even realize all of that until tonight and that’s exactly why I’m here.”

“But you don’t get to just…walk back in here at two in the morning and say you want me back.”

“Yeah, I…” You looked down, absentmindedly picking your nails. “I know that. I do. It’s just…your songs. What you said. If I could, um, hear your knock, brought back by my revery. Each tap, each rap still committed to my memory. But that’s—”

“Up to you, darling,” he continued. You lifted your gaze to his face, to the tears welling in his eyes. “It’s all up to you.”

You took a step forward, feeling your eyes spill with running water.  “And…and you said…” Without explanation, you reached into your crop top and pulled out the lighter. 

“The lighter,” he whispered. Eddie seemed as transfixed by the discovery as you were, eyes trained on the small object. Because it wasn’t just a lighter. It wasn’t something just left in your house, forgotten the moment it went missing. 

It was more than that. A symbol—Eddie’s devotion personified. Something so personal, given to him in a time of despair and deflation, left in your possession. Only asked for once your memory was the only thing left to cling to. Once your memory was the only association left to give it.

“I found it tonight, randomly. It was under the couch.” You tried to look away from his intensifying gaze, but you couldn’t. You just couldn’t. “It just…it felt like a sign.”

Eddie whispered your name, pausing for only a moment longer before he straightened. Shook his head, ridding whatever thoughts remained.

“No—Fuck!” He scoffed, rubbing his eyes. “No, you can’t just fucking do this. Fuck, you just…you make me fucking crazy.”

Now you were stepping closer, compelled by his denial. How could you make him understand? How could you convince him that you were telling the truth?

“Eddie, I promise. I promise I mean it.”

“But you left!” he exclaimed. 

His fingers still rested over his eyes, like he was terrified to look at you. Like he was terrified by his reality.

“I know, but—”

“And I’ve sat here and fucking cried my stupid fucking eyes out every night because all I see—all I ever fucking see at night is you leaving. Just walking out and acting like none of this mattered.”

“Eddie, I’ve felt the same—”

“No,” he shouted, hands immediately coming down and fisting at his sides. His glare made you nauseous, eyebrows sinking lower and lower into his face as his lip quivered. “No, you do not get to say that to me. Not now. Not when you made that choice. You can’t try to fucking empathize with me when this is your fault.”

“And I regret it every second of every day!” you shouted back, taking another step forward. “You heard my album! You know what this has done to me. I feel like I’m dying inside every single fucking night. I get no sleep because I just think about you and how much I fucked up. I did it because I thought I was protecting you. And you know me. You know I’m a people pleas—"

“Nah, man,” he interrupted, shaking his head as he let out a breathy chuckle. The bitter smile on his face made you shudder. “I thought I knew you. For just a second. Just a fucking, shit, I don’t know, a miniscule second, I thought I knew you. But that’s not true, is it? Hm?”

Speechless. That’s the only way to describe how you felt in that moment, staring at the man you knew was the love of your life and hearing him question your character. Like he’d already made up his mind about you. Like his album was the bargaining and the depression—and now he was in a state of rage, finally seeing you as the villain of his story.

“You—"

“Oh, and by the way,” he interrupted again, shaking his head at you. Like he knew what you were going to say. Maybe he really did. “You said you were doing it for me, but you didn’t.” You watched his tears start to fall. “You did it for you. Or to hurt yourself or whatever. I don’t know. Point is, it just wasn’t for me.”

At last, the silence fell. 

Two sets of eyes continued to meet again. Not in the way old friends do, but in the way severed lovers do. A stare laced with the kind of pain that lingered in the tissue of muscles, racing through veins like second nature. And just like wounded animals, you could both see the other was injured.

You probably should’ve just walked away. Was there a point to any of this? You were led by blind faith, by this notion that he’d swaddle you into his grasp and kiss you and ask for your hand in marriage. That all could be forgiven if you just locked eyes. If you just told him…

If you just…

Told him…

“I was afraid to tell you what I want,” you admitted. 

Eddie’s breath seemed to even out, exasperation starting to seep in. He threw up his hands and asked, “What’s that, then?”

“I want you.”

Immediately, his mouth fell open. 

But you put up a hand.

“No, Eddie. Listen to me. I want you. Maybe forever. No, you know what? Not maybe. I want you forever and fucking ever. I want to spend the next however many years navigating this shithole and make music and travel and be there for each other. Go to award shows and congratulate each other. I want to touch you in fucking public and not give a shit about what anyone says. I want to move in with you and drive each other crazy.”

You stopped trembling, shoulders back as you finally reached him. Like you were only now greeting him, finally gazing into those beautiful brown eyes of his. Though they were still glassy, you didn’t cower away. Instead, you took a deep breath and continued. 

“And then I want you to get on one knee and ask me to marry you. A bouquet, a veil, a lover lying await in the shade. You wrote that. You fucking wrote that. And, you know what? Yeah. I want that. I want it more than anything in the world. Let’s get a few more cats. Let’s get married somewhere with our friends and just get high and dance and laugh. And I want to, no I will write you love poems and songs and show you first and then show the whole fucking world…”

You paused, taking a deep breath as you made sure he heard every word. “How much I love you.” 

Eddie instantly caved, his shoulders hunching as his eyes flickered between yours. 

“I will spend every miniscule second of every day making sure you never doubt how in love with you I really am.”

He exhaled, arms slightly extending. As if he was about to reach for you. And you wanted to reach back, wanted to watch the sparks flicker as your fingertips met one another. But you had to keep going. You had to make him understand.

“You know exactly who I am, Eddie,” you stated. “You always have. I should’ve never, ever made you question that.”

His silence made you want to drop to the ground, to beg him to believe you. Because you couldn’t decipher his expression, couldn’t decode the words circulating around that beautiful fucking brain of his. He didn’t make it any better, eyes searching your face over and over again. Like he was assessing the evidence. Reading back the notes. 

But after what felt like hours, Eddie sighed.

“You’re crazy, you know that?”

You exhaled, all breathy and relieved. “I know. Jeff said the same thing on the phone earlier.” 

“Should’ve known that bastard would’ve ratted me out.”

“He said you’ve been holed up here for a while.”

“Yeah.”

“I understand why.” You tried to lower your heart rate as you said, “I’m sorry I didn’t say I love you back. I didn’t want to say it and then just walk away.”

“I thought you did, but then…I just…didn’t.”

“I’ve been wanting to tell you I’m in love with you since I went to Pittsburg to see Mary, Este, and Becky after my tour.”

“But that was only, like, a month after we started seeing each other.”

“Mhm. It was a Saturday.”

“Funny, ‘cause I’d been wanting to tell you I love you since the very first night we met.”

The first smile you’d been able to manage today broke across your lips. Slowly. Gently. “But we didn’t even know each other.”

“I didn’t care. I was already fucking crazy about you.” Heat rose on your cheeks the second you saw the corners of his mouth begin to lift. “And I wanted to tell you I was in love with you about, uh, two weeks in. Right after you came and surprised me at my show. When I crashed backstage at your show—”

“In Seattle?”

“Yeah. I thought about telling you then, but I didn’t.”

“That was only a week later.” Eddie nodded. You let out a groan, slapping your hand over your face. “I’m so stupid.”

“Far from it,” he whispered, fingers reaching up to move your hand away. Your eyes connected once again. But you were weak at his touch, the first in six months, the word kryptonite flooding your thoughts. “But you did make a stupid mistake. There’s a difference.”

“One more chance,” you said. “Just give me one more chance. If I fuck up again, you never have to see me again. I promise.”

Eddie’s grasp on your hand tightened, nearly red hot against yours. He hadn’t let go. He hadn’t lost contact, still anchoring himself to you even as the air grew thick with uncertainty. 

But the most peculiar thing happened. He raised his right hand, crossing the barriers between you and caressing your cheek. A whimper left your lips at the tender touch, feeling absolutely weightless as he smiled at you again.

“Come running back, consider your exile foregone,” Eddie whispered, tightening his grasp on your cheek. Thumbing your lower lip, eyes flickering from your mouth to your gaze, he finished. “I choose you in the low glow of dusk, love you ‘til dawn.”

He kissed you then, his forgiveness dripping into you like honey. Saltwater-stained lips added to the familiar flavor, taking broken halves and molding them back together. Your hearts didn’t mold the same way, but they did shift into something new. Something beautiful. Something golden. 

That night, Eddie made love to you with your hand always twined with his. A welder with the scorching stroke of a furnace, binding himself to you in every way humanly possible. Pouring apologies and promises into one another, letting the scars scab over while new skin grafted over the wounds—saliva being the cure. Touch being the remedy.

There was nothing “resembling” forever anymore.

It was only that. It had only ever been that.

Forever.

thank you @strangergraphics, my beloved, for your endless stream of dividers for yours truly <3

[vapekingg]

You and Eddie have this running joke.

Or at least it started as a joke.

Once Corroded Coffin started to take off, it was hard to not get jealous. All those pretty girls throwing themselves at him at every show. They'd wait at the merch table or near the back door where the band smokes their cigarettes. Even with you hanging off of his arm, they were relentless.

So Eddie started finding you before they could find him.

You liked being in the crowd during their sets. Some of the guys' girlfriends would sit sidestage, some of them would stay in the green room, but you preferred the energy of the show. Eddie always made sure you were front row, center stage. That way he could always find you.

He made a big deal out of it, too. Pointing you out every night during their last song and handing you a VIP laminate that would get you backstage. To all of these new faces, you were just another face in the crowd. It became a thing amongst their fans. Who would be the lucky girl tonight?

But it was always you.

Because you're his favorite groupie, aren't you?

That's what Corroded Coffin's security team started calling you. Jokingly, of course. But it's carried over.

"You know why you're my favorite fucking groupie?" Eddie hisses close to your face.

You can't respond. He knows you can't respond. If it weren't for both of his hands wrapped around your throat, then because he's got your legs folded up against your chest with your ankles next to his ears. Eddie's thrusts are relentless, his cock punching into your guts with brutality, and you can't make a fucking sound.

"Because you can fucking take it," he continues, punctuating the last two words with particularly rough assaults.

Your face is getting warm from the blood pooling in your head. Your brain is pounding in your temples with each stroke of his thick cock against your slick inner walls. You need to scream, but the wail trapped in your lungs sits right below Eddie's fists at the base of your throat.

"Oh, you have something to say? Didn't lose your voice screaming my name all night?" His voice is beginning to sound far off beneath the sound of your own heart thumping in your ears. "Fuck, you feel good. Squeezing my cock, baby. Don't worry, I'm gonna let you sing."

Your throat is released and Eddie's fingers slide beneath your head, weaving into your hair. A rush of air enters your lungs, and then you hear your own foul sounds.

The sound of begging, of pleading, of crying for him to never stop, to give you more.

"Please, Eddie. Please, harder, harder, harder!" Are the only words you can remember.

And you expect Eddie to mock you. He usually does, and it's usually the final nail in your coffin. What you don't expect is the tightening of his ringed fingers against your roots. He holds your head in place and spits on your face, silencing you for only a moment.

"You know this is when you're the prettiest?" Eddie says between gritted teeth.

With the blood flowing back to your brain, you begin to hear everything again. His little grunts and moans hidden by heavy breathing, the slapping of his sweat slick skin against yours, the creaking of his tour bus bunk bed. It all comes together like some sort of symphony of filth.

"When you're all fucked out. Makeup fucked, sweaty, my spit dripping down your face. You'll be even prettier with my cum leaking out of this pussy."

Your back arches into him at the mention of Eddie filling you up. He doesn't do it often. You're careful most of the time. But on special occasions... the risk is worth it.

Eddie laughs at your response, his cock pumping into your cunt faster.

"That what you want? Me to fill you up?" He asks mockingly.

That knot in your abdomen begins to tighten. Eddie's hips rut against your sensitive clit, stroking it in time with each thrust.

"Then everyone will know you're my favorite groupie, huh?"

Eddie's hips hit your core, his cock buried to the hilt, and he grinds his waist against your clit. Stars dot your vision. Every atom in your body shivers on the edge of oblivion.

"Won't they?"