#selling cigarettes to minor

[if-you-fan-a-fire]

"FORGED NAME TO GET DOPE STICKS," Hamilton Spectator. August 30, 1912. Page 14. --- Youthful Devotee At Shrine of Lady Nicotine ---- Shocked To Learn It Was a Very Serious Offense ---- James Carson Charged With Stealing 91st Rifle ---- "Now for a drag on a cigarette. Just watch me weave me left lung around this dream-stick," sighed 11-year-old Jimmy Murphy as he strolled along Barton street east and produced a package of cigarettes from his hip pocket.

But fate was camping on the trail of the youthful Jimmy, and just as he poisoned the air with a cloud of smoke Constable Hay, of the eastern station, loomed up and demanded to know where the "nails" were purchased.

"Why, I was croaking for a pill, so I wrote out a note and signed the name of Connors on it. Then I gave me messenger the price of the smokes and sent him to Souter's. He brought them back to me and dis is one I'm smoking now. That's all there is to it," smiled the infant worshiper of My Lady Nicotine as he took another pull on the smoke.

"That's not all there is to it. Mr. Souter will have to explain to his worship why he sold cigarets to minors," replied the constable.

Souter, who keeps a tobacco store at 767 Barton street east, explained to his worship that he was not present when the lad bought the smokes, and that his wife sold them. She explained to him that the boy brought in a note signed by the name of Connors, and she thought it was all right to sell the cigarets.

"Who is this man Connors?" his worship asked young Murphy. "Why, he used to run a barber shop on Barton street, but he moved away. I just signed his name to the note to get the smokes," replied Murphy.

"For a forger you are indeed candid and truthful. I must say," smiled the magistrate, "Do you know that men are sent to jail for life very often for doing just what you did?" asked his worship.

"Hully Gee, is that right, mister? Believe me, I'm goin' to cut out smokin' for keeps," replied Murphy.

After considering the circumstances surrounding the case, his worship allowed Mr. Souter to go with a warning to be careful in future about handing out cigarets to minors.

COMMITTED FOR TRIAL After an absence of many months, James Carson, jr., 93 Park street north, returned to renew old acquaintances with the court officials. Carson was charged with the theft of an army rifle from the 31st Highlanders' regiment. George Buckingham, color-sergeant of the regiment, identified a rifle which the police located in a pawn-shop on York street as one which he handed out to Private Dunning some months ago. When Downing left the city for the west, the rifle was not returned to the regiment.

J. Cohen, proprietor of the pawn-shop, stated that Carson entered his store last Thursday and so highly explained the merits of the rifle that he paid him the large amount of 60 cents for it.

"I don't know anything about rifles, but when he told me that it would shoot from here to Kingston, I thought it might be worthy 60 cents," explained Cohen. Later, when he attempted to sell it to a customer for $3.50, he was told that it was the property of the 91st regiment and that he had better report it to the police. Downing formerly boarded at Carson's home, and the police claim that he left the rifle there when he left the city. Carson was committed for trial.

CONTRACTOR FINED $10 Inspector Anderson is still on the warpath against contractors who refuse to comply with the building by-laws, and this morning Thirby Dowell, 40 Fairview avenue was nominated on the explain why his employees ... were mixing five wheels barrows of sand to one small barrel of cement.

....When I left the job yesterday I gave the men strict orders to mix five parts to one. If the wall that was put up before the inspector came is not stronger than the by-law requires, I'll forfeit $100," said Dowell.

"You say that Mr. Anderson did you a good turn by calling your attention to the breach, so it is only proper that you should reciprocate now by paying a fine of $10," smiled his worship, as he glanced affectionately at the large moss-rose that adorned his lapel.

COST HIM $1. Thomas Launders, 80 Chatham street, allowed the precious city water to trickle along the roadside into the sewers, and the attention of the police was called to the little breach. Launders was fined $1.

DISMISSED CASE. When Mary Bigamont, of Sherman avenue north raised an objection to her little girl being mussed about by the daughter of Brusquili Mostacco. She testified that Mostacco rusted into her house and informed her that he was going to kill her. Mary naturally objected to having a funeral in the family without her being able to hear the choir sing, and she told Моstacco so, but he grabbed her by the throat and threw her on the grass. This was her story. Mostacco's was sadly different, and the magistrate, with the wisdom of Solomon. wisely dismissed the case.

[rohan-kishibaby]

So my mom smokes and since i've turned 18 she asks me to pick up cigarettes for her sometimes when i'm out, which is fine i don't mind doing that but i got so anxious about getting asked for ID and being seen as a young delinquent or smth

So i'm totally worked up about it every time, but every time i have gone so far i have not once been asked to show ID.

1. I literally turned 18 like a month ago, i can't look THAT old????

2. I got so fuckin worked up only to get just.

*hands me the cigarettes* "that'll be £30 please :)"

LIKE. OKAY I GUESS.

[hier--soir]

take your medicine

pre-outbreak joel miller x f!reader

rating: explicit, 18+ minors dni summary: *tv sales advert voice* so you've been finding it hard to reach orgasm? lucky for you, our best-selling item "hunky boyfriend joel" is on sale at half price. shipping is free, and he is very determined to help you achieve your goals! call the number on your screen to buy now! OR your medication makes it difficult to orgasm so joel (and your vibrator) help make it happen. warnings/tags: set in the early 2000s aka early thirties joel my lover boyyyy, boyfriend joel, depression [nothing dark or sad], anti-depressants, brief discussion of food/eating, cigarette smoking [f], soft!supportive!joel, mentions of masturbation [f], unprotected piv sex, use of a sex toy, ride 'em cowgirl (1939) dir. samuel diege, cream pie, dirty talk, joel talks you through it. word count: 2.9k masterlist a/n: so this one is.... self-indulgent. shout out to all my friends on anti-depressants that are strugglin' to reach orgasm. me too, pals, me too. and there will be no medication shaming on this account, no there will not! so happy sunday, i hope someone else out there enjoys this short little thing with me x follow @hier--soirupdates if you'd like to be notified when i share my writing

Medication is a journey, they say. Every day will be different.

Medication is not the end all be all, they say. We can always try different avenues.

Six months on, now.

Six months since Let’s try the Zoloft for a few months.

Six months since We can reassess in April.

It’s June and summer has settled over Austin with a hot wet vengeance. April came and went with a mutual agreement that you weren’t ready to be weaned off yet. A gentle hand on your forearm and a softly spoken Why don’t we check in again in July?

A low dose. A starter dose. A you shouldn’t experience too many side-effects dose.  

And she was right – for the most part. There were no headaches, no nausea, no dizzy spells, no changes in appetite. That shallow, low mood that’d been haunting you for months suddenly began to lift. Begrudging exercise in the afternoons, a three-meals-a-day regiment implemented by your boyfriend, and a happy little pill with every morning coffee.

But fuck – you can count the number of orgasms you’ve had since January on one hand.

Countless nights spent alone in your bed, tangled betwixt sweaty sheets, fingers and forearm cramping until you finally give up. Drink a cold glass of water, wet your face, and go to bed frustrated; a routine disappointment.

You’d gotten lucky a few times, of course. Vibrator on the highest setting possible, pussy all puffed up and numb from the rough speed. Frustrated tears in your eyes, lightheaded by the time you finally feel that sweet sweet relief coursing through your veins.

A few times with Joel, too, in those first few months. And ignorance was bliss—quite literally—until he caught onto what you’d been doing.

“What was different tonight?” he’d asked you on one of those nights, laid out beside each other in his bed. Chests heaving, satisfied smiles spread across your faces.

Your hand had paused against his head, fingers twisted up in his sweaty curls, and you hesitated. So quick, the briefest pause before trying to play it off, but he caught it. Always too perceptive, too watchful of an eye; especially since you’d been diagnosed.

“What’s wrong?” Joel frowned.

“I… didn’t… my…” you’d mumbled, face tucked against his pillow.

“Can’t hear you when you do that,” he pressed a kiss to your shoulder. “Baby?”

“I didn’t take my meds today,” you repeated, voice still low, still wary. But you could tell he heard you. Knew from the way his body stiffened beside you. From how when you looked over his smile had dropped, eyebrows pinching inward. 

For a moment he didn’t even say anything. He hardly breathed. And then—Darlin’, why would you do that?—so painfully soft, the faintest tinge of worry in that deep, rasping voice of his. 

“I don’t know,” you sighed, and something hot began to burn behind your eyes. Wet, pinching shame. “Just… I woke up and I wanted you. And I wanted it to feel like it used to for us, and I can never… you know I can’t finish when I’m on them, and I hate feeling like I’m disappointing you—”

“Baby,” Joel shook his head, strong hand cupping your jaw. His forehead knocked against yours; a tender but firm kind of insistence. The type that says look me in the fucking eyes and listen up. “You’re not disappointin’ me.”

“Joel,” you sighed, face hot, foreheads tacky where they pressed together.

“No,” he grunted. “I fuckin’ mean it. This stuff takes time, okay? We’ll figure it out the way we always do. Just… don’t do that again. Please.”

“I won’t,” you murmured feebly, nose smushed against his.  

“Promise me,” Joel had urged you. “Promise me you’ll take your medicine.” 

“I promise, Joel.”

You kept strong on that promise. Didn’t get frustrated when he’d stay over more nights than usual, or drag you back to his place in the evenings – all just to watch you pop that little white pill in the mornings.  

It brought out something new in him, the day you’d showed him the prescription. Like some instinctual protectiveness was unlocked and he just kicked into hyperdrive.

Cutting work early to drive you to your doctor’s office, cooking up different meals every night for dinner.

Most days you wake up alone in his bed; wipe the sleep out of your eyes as you wander downstairs. Let him nudge you into a chair at the table, beside Sarah, so he can set identical bowls of cereal in front of the two of you—his girls. Hell, if you had a dollar for every time that man has said Breakfast is the most important meal of the day in the past six months, you’d have more money than you could spend.

Joel didn’t even get mad when you started smoking again in May.

Didn’t bat an eye when he found you at two in the morning, sat on the back porch in one of his sweatshirts with the smell of tobacco staining your fingers.

“Been a long time since I seen once of those in your mouth,” he’d smirked, settling onto the stoop beside you.

“I’m sorry,” you grimaced, remembering how proud he’d been when you quit. He rested his head against your shoulder, eyes watering with a yawn.

“S’late,” he grumbled sleepily. “N’you smell now.”

“I’m sorry,” you’d repeated, stamping the cigarette into the concrete. “Today was just… hard. Couldn’t sleep.”  

“S’okay,” Joel told you. “Just don’t like it when you sneak out on me, yeah? You know I ain’t judgin’ you.”

The only thing that frustrates Joel, is that he comes, and you don’t.

And it’s not a frustration with you. No, it’s a hot faced guilt that spreads through him every time you fuck. Evident in those frantic touches, desperate pleas of your name, of tell me what to do, tell me how to help, of fuck I’m sorry.

Because you still want him, despite it all. Still can’t help your wandering hands, your fingers that tease back his bed sheets and then his boxers and coax orgasm after orgasm out of him, night after night.

Tonight, you thought, would be no different.

Covers strewn across the end of your bed, pillows askew, you sit astride his lap.

It’s hot; the AC in your apartment has been broken all week, and your thighs are tacky with sweat where they press against his skin. Everything wet – sweat in your hair, slick between your thighs, the soft squelching sound that raises with every press of his cock inside of you.

“Fuck,” Joel pants, hands tight against your waist. “I can’t—goddammit, I’m not gonna last, baby.” 

“It’s okay,” you moan, eyelids heavy as you rock your hips over his.

It’s late, and you both have work early in the morning, but the burn is so good like this. The heavy weight of him reaching so far, pushing the limits of what your body can take. For years it’s been your favourite way to fuck him; poised above his body, admiring the way his stomach tightens and his eyes roll when you sink down on his cock.

“What can I do?” his voice is strained, the veins in his neck bulging as he holds his breath – anything to stave off the impending high.

You only whimper pathetically, grinding your hips into his. Can feel everything in your stomach knotting up into a white-hot ball.

“Hey,” Joel urges, hand landing in a soft slap against your outer thigh. “Talk to me.”

“I don’t know,” you cry out, shaking your head. “It’s right there, but I…”

“But what?” he murmurs, hips snapping up again.

“I don’t think I can,” you finally admit, eyebrows drawn tight in frustration. Your lower lip is bitten raw at this point, incessantly gnawed at by your own teeth. His grip tightens on your hips and he drags you upward until his length slips out, falling against his stomach with a wet smack.

“C’mon, tell me what you need,” he says quickly, and you’re sure that the desperation you see in his eyes is mirrored in your own. Pupils blown round and fat, endless black—pleading.

You stare down at him for a moment. Watch the way his chest heaves with harsh, stilted breathes. How little dots of sweat have gathered at the hollow of his throat. And fuck, you want it so bad.

“Top drawer,” you exhale roughly, pointing to the side table.

Joel doesn’t question the order. Doesn’t say a word as he spreads a long arm across the bed, yanking the drawer open and shoving his hand inside. You watch him rifle around for a moment, pulse increasing as you wait for him to find what you want. What you need. And you can tell when he does; his shoulders stiffen and he lets out a choked sort of sound, pulling out the black wand and shoving it into your hand.

“Show me,” he says, eyes wild.

Your finger drops down against the button, turning your hand to show him which one to press.

“There’s four settings,” you murmur, slipping it back into his palm.

“Does this normally help?” he asks, grunting softly as you grip his cock, notching the tip back at your entrance.

“Sometimes,” you sigh, sinking down, sucking in the heavy weight of him. “Can still take a—a little while.”

He presses the button tentatively, watching as the rounded head of the wand starts to vibrate. Spread open around him, he can see your swollen little clit so easily, and he lowers the wand to press against it. Your body jolts forward, mouth splitting open with a groan as heat flares through you. Your hips stutter against him instinctively, chasing that intense feeling, and he looses a gravelly moan at the feeling of your wasted cunt squeezing around him.

“Look at that,” Joel grunts, dark eyes trained on your face. That wicked pink tongue slips out to wet his lips and he nods in encouragement. “I know, baby, I know it’s a lot, you feel good?” 

“Yes,” you gasp, jaw going slack as you settle into the feeling. “Fuck, yes, it’s good, it’s good.”

It’s nothing you’ve ever felt before; nothing your past boyfriends had ever been comfortable enough to try. It has the muscles in your thighs tensing up already; the thick press of his cock paired with that unrelenting, almost overbearing, vibration.

“Can feel it,” he hisses out, head tilting back into the mattress.

“Yeah?”

“Mm,” he nods, expression grim. The muscle in his jaw twitches. “So fuckin’ tight like this. All wound up, y’need it so bad, I know.”

You moan, eyelids fluttering as he presses the button again, notching it to a higher speed. You lift up slowly and then press back down over him, and the two of you groan in unison. His free hand falls against the curve of your ass and he squeezes, encouraging you to rock against him, starting up a steady pace.

One of your hands settles on your chest, fingers twisting and pulling at your nipples. You need more, always more, something, anything.

“Look so fuckin’ good like this,” Joel mutters, and you can tell how fucked out he is already as he watches you. Dark eyes glazing over, mouth hanging open deliriously. “My pretty girl, so damn good for me.”  

Your heart stumbles in your chest and you whimper, appreciation for him flooding your senses. He’s been so close for so long tonight already, teetering precariously on that edge but holding off for you. Fucking you into the mattress before pulling out and tucking his face between your thighs, doing his damnedest to get you to that same place. Urging you to get on top, to take what you needed, to use him to get yourself off.  

“I love you,” you mumble breathlessly, eyes pinching closed as something sharp starts to tingle at the bottom of your stomach.

“Fuck, fuck,” Joel snarls, hips snapping upward.  

“What ar—” your words cut off with choked moan as he clicks the button again, and then again, taking it to the highest speed. Your shoulders shake and you tilt forward a little, hand gripping his shoulder to steady yourself.

“Joel,” you cry out, chest heaving and stomach tightening.

Your fingers wrap around his wrist, searching for something to ground yourself against. That firm press against your clit doesn’t falter for a second, and you let out a rough moan.  

“Good,” he grunts. “Good girl, give it to me.”

The muscle in his bicep spasms and strains beneath the skin, everything pulled taut as he keeps the wand pressed firmly against you. And it’s almost painful, the way you can feel your high coiling inside you, burning, but never quite reaching fever pitch the way you need it to. 

A symphony that builds and billows and writhes within you. Sloping swells of violins and cellos and trumpets. Up, up, up to that shattering crescendo you just can’t seem to reach.

“Joel,” you mewl, and there’s tears in your eyes, on your cheeks. Hot, fat tears that stain your face now, dripping from your chin to splatter against his chest.

“C’mon now,” he grunts, hips shifting up off the bed, meeting you thrust for thrust. The stretch of his cock is so wide, so deep, and every shift of his body punches the air from your lungs.

“I don’t know if I can,” you shake your head, stomach on fire. The vibrations are so intense, the speed so fast, you can feel your clit going numb beneath it. But Joel doesn’t pull away, doesn’t stop the fast pace of his hips. The muscles in his abdomen twitch under you, tan skin glistening with sweat.

“You’re so close,” he goads, jaw tight. “Don’t fight it, baby.”

“Stop moving,” you beg then, your voice a high keen. Joel stills instantly, wary eyes darting across your face. He doesn’t pull the vibrator away though. Not yet.

“Fuck,” you cry out, hand firm against his stomach. “Just let me-just—”

Knees on fire against the bed, you grind your hips down into his. Gasp as his cock presses hot and heavy against something deep inside of you that sets your entire body shaking, vibrating against him; buzzing at the same high-speed rhythm as the wand between your legs. You rut against him again and again and then something pulls tight and hot at the base of your spine.

“Oh, fuck,” you gasp, eyes widening. “Oh god, Joel, I think—”

“Shh, I know, I know,” he moans. A bead of sweat rolls from his hairline to his chin. “You’re okay, let it happen.”

“Touch me,” you say, breathless and needy and so so desperate. “Fuck, please.”

Joel groans – a deep, guttural thing. A sound that comes from somewhere in the base of his stomach. It rattles your bones and has your fingernails digging into his stomach, and then his hand is on your chest. Rough fingers squeezing and stroking and pinching and you’re gasping, keening his name as he whispers frenzied words of encouragement and it’s building it’s building it’s building and and and—

Everything goes silent when you come. It’s all blurred vision and deafened ears; an intense ache in your jaw from the way your mouth hangs open. You can feel a vein in your neck, raging beneath the skin; a staccato rushing sound that echoes inside your head.

And you think you can hear Joel’s voice, somewhere beyond it all; Fuck, there it is, good girl, good fuckin’ girl.

When your eyes flutter open, you can only see Joel’s face swimming in your vision. His eyes rolling back, lips parted as he snarls your name.

“Fuck,” he spits. “—yeah, that’s it, there we fuckin’ go.”

You feel his cock kick inside of you; fast jerking spasms and then a warm rush as he starts to come. Your hand wraps around his, pushing the wand to the side of the bed, but he doesn’t fucking stop. He grips your waist and fucks up into you, spitting curses and warbled slurs of your name as he pumps you full of his hot spend.

It’s obscene – a mix of your come and his, squeezing out around his girth and smearing against the inside of your thighs. It pools around the base of his cock and you whimper at the sight, swollen cunt still tightening around him. Only when you start to sag down against his chest does he rest, his thighs twitching and tensing with the aftershocks of his high.  

Joel raises a hand, calloused thumb brushing the tears from your cheeks. Then, carefully, he grips the back of your neck, guiding you down to rest against his chest.

Your shoulders slump and you press a lazy kiss against the jut of his collarbone. And for a moment there’s just this. No sounds but that of heavy breaths and a soft buzzing, forgotten somewhere in the sheets. The swipe of his fingertips down your spine, your lips against his salty skin. A gentle tap against your waist and he’s slipping out of you with a sigh, but not letting you pull away, not letting you move from where you’ve collapsed directly on top of him.

“Missed that,” you slur sleepily, fighting to keep your eyes open.

“Me too,” he mumbles. “Did so good. Made me proud.”

“S’that right?” you smile against his skin.

“S’right, baby.”

You hum, dragging your head up to press a kiss against his mouth. Both of you so exhausted that it’s just a brief, lazy swipe of your lips, but it’s enough. It’s thank you.

“Shower?” he suggests softly, smiling up at you.  

“Or… cigarette?” you respond, eyebrows raised, teasing.  

“Watch it,” he smarts, laying a quick smack against your ass before nudging you off of him. He stands and holds out a hand to help you off the bed, tutting underneath his breath. “Although I guess you’ve earned it.”

a/n: in hindsight, idk why the fuck i wrote that it took them six months to try this but what can you do lmao.

thank you for reading! x

[musedblues]

FOREVER AND FOR REAL

(photo edits by @pitifulbaby_ on insta)

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

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

30k

MINORS DNI

/// New York 1988 -

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

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

///

Sunset Strip 1986 -

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Eddie..."

"Yeah?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

///

Century City L.A. 1986 -

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

///

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then Kelsey spoke up...

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

"I didn't let-"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The pair of you signed on the dotted line.

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

///

The Beverly Hills Hotel 1986 -

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

///

New York 1988 -

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

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

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

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

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

"Next question."

///

Hawaii 1986 -

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Wanna write?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Oh?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Oh... my God."

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

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

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

///

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

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

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

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

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

"You're getting the doorway all wet!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Should we go back in?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

///

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

///

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You were really going to miss it here.

///

L.A. 1986 -

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

///

LAX 1986 -

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

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

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

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

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

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

///

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

///

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

///

France 1986 -

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

///

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Eddie, can I have your autograph too?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

///

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

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

"Hello?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then your drummer came knocking on your door.

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

"Yeah." You shrugged.

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

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

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

///

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

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

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

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

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

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

Apparently, according to your manager, the devil incarnate. 

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

Thank God the club was in sight.

///

CBGB's 1986 -

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

///

Chealsea Hotel 1986 -

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What?" Zed turned, confused.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

///

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

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

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

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

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

///

Chicago 1986 -

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I don't know." You lied.

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

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

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

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

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

///

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

///

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"It never ends!" Eddie chimed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Oh, I already flushed em." Zed assured. "And I assume I won't be getting any more late-night visits either?" The drummer scratched the back of his head and looked to you like a sad little puppy. He wasn't in love with you. And you had nary a feeling for him. But the pair of you had found comfort in your routine hookups.

"I don't know. It's not like Eddie and I have anything officially going on. But I can promise you, you'll be the first to know when I've got my shit figured out, yeah?"

Zed nodded and told you to get back to bed, and thanked you for having a meltdown grand enough to allow everyone else a day off too. You shot him a middle finger and chuckled your way back under the hotel sheets.

///

Kansas 1986 -

Eddie hadn't left your side since Chicago. The last night you spent there he'd called Brooke and asked her to sneak into Kelsey's office in L.A. to go through his files. The brave soul did just that, and found a fax Kelsey had sent to himself of a new contract where he forged the bands signatures and decided to charge you each more monthly. Brooke called you in Detroit and set you up with some well renowned lawyers. You had big plans to fuck Kelsey's shit up after the tour. There were only seven shows left. And you weren't in the business of disappointing your fans.

Kansas was pretty beautiful, the sun shone, your plans were coming together, Eddie spent a lot of time sober and reading a paper back with his head in your lap. Your tour bus pulled into the finest hotel available. You were an entire day ahead of schedule. And there was nothing to do with it.

"Let's go to dinner some place nice, no late-night pub. Wanna?"  Eddie coaxed, crash landing to sit on the edge of this weekends bed. You watched him in his own amusement, grinning as the mattress continued to spring. 

"Sure, that sounds like a nice change of pace." It wasn't to say that you'd been starved of fine dining experiences on this tour. But the past few days had been nonstop with no time to relish or relax outside of the tour bus.

Before you knew it you were dressed to the nines, hanging off of Eddies arm as he escorted you out of the back of the resort where your limo waited. Unsure where exactly you headed, Eddie had taken care of asking the front desk for the nicest eatery nearby. 

A castle like building with French style cuisine it was. Skipping ahead of reservations and smiling politely to wait staff, you wound up settled comfortably in a leather booth, sipping a lemonade and staring at Eddie. He leaned both elbows on his side of the table and stared right back at you.  

"Thanks. For dinner. And for staying on the road with me. And for... well everything I guess."

"It's been truly the least I could do. You shouldn't be saying thanks at all. I should be saying sorry for how much of an embarrassment I've been to you, like, since the dawn of our meeting." Eddie spoke up, twirling the straw in his soda.

"Don't start that-" You tried to stop his groveling, shaking your head.

"I am sorry. We agreed to this marriage to help each other's image, more or less. And I've been parading around like a fool."

"Maybe. But you also got us a trip to Hawaii that changed my life a little. And you're here with me now. You've been better to me than you give yourself credit for." You grinned, searching Eddies deep wide eyes. He squinted as if to consider the weight of your words. He let the chatter of the atmosphere grow louder as silence settled in the space between you. One sip of your drink. Two. Three.

"So, what... how..." Eddie started, struggling to choose his words until he just came right out with it. "Do you really love me?"

"I really do." You nodded, letting your head bob more assuredly as you thought on your statement. "I'm not sure when it happened but I can promise you, you'll break my heart when you leave."

"Well, I don't want to leave." Eddie shook his head, seemingly worried, like he was about to be swept off into a void. "I don't want to leave you. I know I have to go back to L.A. soon but, that's not what we're talking about here."

"It's not." 

Just then, your kind waitress breezed by, offering refills and desserts. You declined both and decided to call it a night, hoping to get some proper beauty sleep in since you had a night free enough to do so. The pair of you breezed out of the restaurant, flashing smiles to the fans who'd gathered outside of the business after learning you were dining inside. You shouldered your way into the limo without too much fuss, and then turned to find Eddie settling at your side. 

And when he looked back at you, it was like the whole world made sense. It baffled you. Here in the middle of America, without a single prompt, it felt like your world just shifted on its axis all because of the smile that reached Eddie's eyes when they locked on yours. Maybe it was the effects of a proper meal settling in after probably too long without one. Or maybe the tour had finally driven you mad beyond comprehension.

But by the time you got back to the hotel, you weren't so naive. You realized that the wall you'd built up that guarded your heart from this man had finally crumbled, the last brick blown over after your conversation at dinner. 

"Eddie-"

Like a mind reader or a braver soul, the man in question spun around from locking the hotel door to grab your face and kiss you. And you got it then. You got why he couldn't have done this with you, if he'd been half as in love with you as you were with him right in this moment. You understood why it would have wrecked him. But you got to kiss him now, letting your soul settle as he kissed you back.

It was as if you'd never done this before. With Eddie or anyone. A carnal desperation washed over you, now that the waiting was over. Your hands traced the inside of Eddie's leather jacket, falling until they reached his belt. As your fingers started to undo the thing, Eddie pushed them away. Oh no, he was about to stop you again, wasn't he? 

"We have all night." Eddie explained, saving your heart from sinking to your stomach. "Slow?"

"Yeah, I like that idea." You smiled, letting Eddie gaze at you through hooded eyes, pressing his smile to your cheek for a kiss. He let his lips wander from your jaw to your neck as his hands trailed from your sides to your back. 

This was all you'd ever wanted from him. This was more than you'd ever let yourself have with him. His body firm against yours. His heart on the table. God, you'd nearly forgotten you were in the midst of a tour that made you nearly consider quitting this business entirely. You'd nearly forgotten you'd ever been hurt at all. 

You simply soaked up the way Eddie peeled off your layers one at a time, taking forever to do so. He laid you down and let you rip away his shirt. He smoothed his hands over your skin and let you tangle your fingers in his hair. 

Dusk cast through the curtains, coloring the room a dull purple. Eddie marveled at the beauty of the evening and moved his kisses down your stomach. Eventually his lips met the middle of you and his kisses were unrelenting. As tortuously slow as he'd taken his time to wind up between your legs, he made up for by working you up into a frenzy in the matter of seconds. And then he claimed he had only just begun; Eddie announced his plan to make you come undone as many times as he could muster before you were each too tired to go on.

He kept his word, sending stars into your vision over and over as the night turned black. You returned every favor, dragging out your efforts to drive Eddie wild until he absolutely couldn't stand it any longer. When it came time for the guy to press himself all the way into you, overwhelming peace filled your heart so full it frightened you. You were almost moved to tears by how in utter fucking love with Eddie Munson you were. Unsure how else to express those profound emotions in a time like now; you let your jaw slack and your breath catch as the weight of these intense feelings and realizations wracked your body and soul. 

Eddie's eyes were focusing on yours then, and with a smile he sighed, "I know." And somehow, you believed that he somehow truly did have an understanding of the exact feeling you struggled to articulate. Still, you barely got to relish the way his hips rocked into yours before he was losing composure. But still, it was beautiful to watch Eddie reach his peak, straining against you. Because of you.

Eddie was crashing at your side, spent and sleepy and so fucking beautiful. 

///

The next morning came too soon. You knew last night was a one off, for now. You knew there were days that waited just ahead that demanded attention you worried you didn't have patience for. You knew you needed to hold onto last night for all it was worth, when morning came.

Eddie woke up, slinging an arm surer around your middle, groaning about not wanting to ever get up. You chuckled and shifted your weight to sit up ever so slightly. You had time left to laze, but not much. So you knew your question needed to be asked right away. 

"Eddie." You whispered, grabbing the hand he left splayed across your stomach, bringing his knuckles to your lips. The guy lifted his mussed head of hair and let his dark eyes flutter to meet yours. He propped himself up on his elbows and pressed his own lips to your shoulder.

"Eddie... What are we doing? What happens now?"

"I want something real with you." Eddie lifted his face to find yours. He was smiling at first but it faltered before he spoke up again. "But I think we need to figure out our shit first. Let our dumbass contract end. Get you through this tour and away from Kelsey. Get myself off the fuckin' bottle. Then maybe we can live life together instead of just trying to survive it."

"I see." You mulled over his statement, still holding his knuckles in your grasp.

"All that to say I want to see you all the time. I want this with you all the time. But I don't want to make you promises I'm afraid I'll break. I meant what I said about staying in rehab longer than three months, this time."

"Is that why you're going back to L.A.?"

"I already asked Brooke to find me a residency." The announcement was a happy one. But it meant his leaving was soon and it meant his absence would be significant. It meant mornings in sheets and sunlight were further away than you'd recently hopped.

"Can I come visit you?"

"I don't think I could fully heal if you didn't."

///

Topeka wasn't the most glamourous city. But deep in the heart of the Midwest, the wildest shit seemed to be going down. Your green room was full of groupies, clowns, bikers, freaks of all kinds. There was probably nothing left to do in the middle of tornado alley than to go a little crazy.

Maybe that's why you weren't surprised when you found Eddie backstage. Maybe that's why you weren't disappointed. Maybe that's why you didn't stop Eddie when he let some pink haired punk rocker pour a shot down his throat. 

But then he saw you and he smiled. He fucking smiled. And you couldn't help but let outrage burst from your being at that point. Marching through the crowd, you plunged a hand out to grab Eddie's sleeve, yanking him away from the madness. All around you people were laughing and yammering and singing, lost in their own plots. Eddie wasn't laughing anymore. He wasn't smiling. He was protesting as you dragged him behind you, around the corner toward a row of backstage showers. Secluded in the tiled room, you let go and turned to face him, Eddie didn't even look like himself. His eyes were glassed over, his demeanor barely held together.

"What the fuck?" You yelled. "Just because you have a room booked at rehab doesn't mean you get a free bender. Stop trying to kill yourself!"

"I- thinking..." Eddie rose a finger, pointing your way before he huffed a small curse, losing his balance, staggering toward the wall.

"You're a fucking mess. I don't even know what to do." You wanted to cry, you wanted to yell at him until he sobered the fuck up and promised to stop this bullshit forever. For good. He stayed leaning against the wall, furrowing his brow, closing his eyes as a you shouted his way.

"You're not the only one this shit is hard for!" Eddie slurred back, opening his eyes and gesturing your way.

"What are you talking about Eddie?"

"This is too hard. I'm too-" He huffed a frustrated sigh, too drunk to possibly convey a proper expression. Still, to the best of his shitfaced ability, he tried. "I'm too fucked up for this job. I'm too fucked up for you. I think I'm always gonna be. So... so jut go back to Zed. Or something. I'm gonna fuck this up. I don't want to but-" His words slurred so close together it may have been impossible to understand him if you didn't know him so well. There were tears welling in his eye's as he rambled, and every word went straight to the pit in your stomach.

"Eddie, baby, listen-"

"No, you gotta go on stage!" He waved a hand for you to hurry away. It was true, but your concerns for him were increasing by the second. Stagehands poked their head in the locker area, calling your name, insisting you hurry. You called back to them to find Kelsey, God how you wished anyone else would be in charge enough to help. When your sleezy ass manager finally rushed in, you told him you refused to go on stage until you saw Eddie put into a cab and escorted back to your hotel. Because there were people watching, Kelsey did as you said.

You played that show with your heart in your throat. You sang with your brain turned off. You tried to remember how great last night was. But tonight scared you too bad.

///

You didn't get on the tour bus. You didn't let Kelsey threaten you to stay for the after party. You rushed to hail a cab and paid the driver far more than anyone ever should have to book it to the hotel.

The driver was brilliant. But the ride seemed to last forever- every second, a threat, in your mind. You worried almost to the point of getting sick. What if they hadn't dropped him off in the room like you demanded? What if he got out and went to a bar or got lost? What if something far worse happened?

You ran inside the fivestar lodge and sprinted to the elevator. You pressed the button to your floor a dozen time, willing it to move faster, muttering your will outloud. The elevator doors creaked shut as you pressed the button again and again, beyond desprate to get upstairs. The indicator passed the second floor. Then it passed the third. And then your ride screeched in an unfamiliar tone, stalling before the arrow could make it to the fourth floor. No.

"This is a sick fucking joke!" You cried out to no one, kicking the doors of the elevator that stalled between floors. You cried and cried and pressed the button again a dozen times before back up, accepting your fate, letting your shoulders hit the wall as you stood alone in tears. Maybe Eddie was right somehow. This was never going to work. Maybe you were destined to break each others hearts. You almost let the grim thought take over your mind. You almost let that conclusion be the finale one to make.

But then you remembered the look in Eddie's eyes last night, when he pinned you against the mattress. And the look in his eyes at dinner. And from the side stages and passenger seats and press junkets. Maybe it was destined to fall apart with Eddie. But you weren't gonna go down without a fight damn it. 

Pushing yourself from the wall, you cursed and pounded the button until the elevator screeched into motion again, rising passed the handful of floors it took until your destination. You practically pried the doors open when you got to where you needed to be, racing down the hall, fumbling your key from your pocket. 

Eddie was there, slumped halfway on the foot of the bed, like he couldn't make it the rest of the way. Empty cans a littered near the bin by the door. Kicking past them, you moved to shake Eddie's shoulders. He grumbled at your jostling him, but nothing you could understand. You cried and tried your best to move him to a more sensible position in the middle of the mattress. You cried and rolled over to kneel by the bedside telephone. It rang twice before she answered.

"Brooke, you need to come get him." You cried. 

"I'm on my way." She assured; without an ounce of hesitation or question or anything but allegiance.

You stayed up, checking Eddie's pulse that never faltered, sniffling back tears for this whole fucked up situation. You stayed up writing a letter to Eddie, promising him things with Zed weren't going to work out. Promising nothing would work out with anyone but him. Promising you'd come visit Eddie in rehab and that you actually loved him more than you knew you were capable of. That even though you were scared too, you were willing. Promising you were proud to call yourself his wife even if you were never actually married. Then you signed your name at the bottom, finally giving him that autograph he'd once asked for.

Brooke was there six hours later. Dressed to the nines, slipping in the room unsurprised by the scene, reaching out to hug you without asking. You let the woman hold you for a moment as you focused on taking deep breaths and convincing your nervous system help was here and happening.

"Thank you for giving a fuck about him. And helping him. For coming all this way." You shuddered a breath and looked to the woman with kind eyes and a killer fashion sense.

"I care about Eddie. I care about you too, you know?"

Brook went on to say that if you ever wanted to call her to talk, her line would always be open. And if you ever wanted to call her to replace Kelsey, she'd gladly represent you. She went on to curse the man in charge of your career, insisting you deserved better than the treatment he gave you. You struggled not to keep on crying as you thanked her a billion times more, and moved to deal with Eddie.

As you and his manager sat up the man, he seemed to wake up from his stupor. Still out of it enough to stay silent, but alert enough to help as you and Brooke dragged Eddie out of the room- and to another stupid fucking elevator and out of the back of the hotel. You had packed his things and stuck your letter in his bag. No doubting he'd receive it in a timely manner.

Outside, Brooke left you to bear all of Eddie's weight as she opened the limo door. In that time, Eddie tried his best to support himself more fully, grabbing at your shirt and yanking himself up to look at you. His eyes were brimmed with tears, still dark and beautiful. Still your favorite pair. 

"You promised." Eddie winced. "No lugging me around." You had a firm hold around his waist, and under his arm. You remembered the deal you made before signing the contracts. You remember what he referenced.

"Not lugging. Helping. That's what I promised." You sniffled, letting more tears fall as you brushed back Eddies hair. His eyes closed and his brow furrowed as you guided him toward the limo. Brook shut his door and promised to phone you. Then they were off. The car sputtered to start and turned down the alley and you stood there all alone again.

///

The next few nights went by in a blur. Texas was hot, Colorado was pretty, Oregon could have been fun, but it wasn't. You allowed yourself no time to think or feel or wonder. You focused solely on the music and getting off this God forsaken tour.

Kelsey went flying down the halls of a casino in Vegas when Ambrose tried to call him out for stealing money from you lot. It resulted in a physical altercation where the manager had your guitarist by the collar against a wall, but the staff security team broke it up and Ambrose slumped off to the lobby bar instead of responding when you asked if he was okay.

That night you stayed up late on the bus to Phoenix, staring at the screen of the telly mounted near the cabinets.

"You're doing that thing again." Zed appeared, looking down at you with tired eyes. "Where you stare a hole through whatever is in front of you."

"Yeah." You sighed. The drummer seemed to decide something, and moved to sit at your side- handing you the joint he'd been smoking. After a beat, he asked if you'd found any good lawyers. You mentioned that you in fact had. Sometime around Detroit, Brooke had phoned you with more information than you knew what to do with and a list of people rallied to help.

 Silence fell between the pair of you once more as a late-night show began to air. You halfheartedly listened to the host relay news updates while passing Zed's joint back and forth. And then a certain topic demanded your full-blown attention.

"Corroded Coffin announced a hiatus tonight, disappointing fans who'd recently been promised an upcoming tour." The late-night host made a joke about the metal groups fans being a bunch of softies. "Yeah, apparently, lead singer Eddie Munson checked himself into rehab for a whole year..." Whatever joke that crackled through the screen next was lost on you, as your eyes brimmed, full of pride and fear. Proud for how Eddie was being public now about his absence from the scene. And fearful for what was next to come. 

A lot could happen in a year. A lot needed to happen in a year. But what if it didn't go how, you all hoped? What if your attempt to hold Kelsey accountable backfired? What if you were never able to get free? What if Eddie found a nice girl down the hall from whatever room he booked and forgot all about how badly he said he wanted a real shot with you? 

"We'll still be friends, right?" Zed pipped up, taking the joint from your grasp and passing you a stray tissue instead. "Way less codependent? More morally supportive?" 

"I'd like that, yeah." You sniffled and smiled to the drummer whose presence had been a surprising safe place for you through this whole mess. You thanked him for being there and for understanding the time and place for your vice driven alliance had come to a close. But after a newly born secret hand shake it was decided that you'd still be glad to call each other a friend.

///

L.A. 1986 -

The holidays fast approached by the end of that tour. Your Christmas was shrouded by legal documents. Kelsey hadn't spoken to you since you'd served him those papers. He didn't even look your way in the court room. 

When the new year kicked in, you spent most weekends visiting Eddie in rehab. You'd play a round of cards and tell him how good he looked and listen as he spoke about how much better he felt too. You each dreamed of life after he got out. Movie dates and song writing sessions. You each parted ways with a well-meaning embrace and sometimes a small kiss or two. 

While awaiting the verdict to your case against Kelsey, you declined your labels deal for a new album. You phoned Brooke instead and asked her to book you a trip to Hawaii. You started packing that night, unsure when you'd leave or for how long. But your trust in Brooke's ability to work miracles remained steadfast. So when your phone clattered and you answered to the sound of her voice, you weren't surprised by the glee in her tone. 

"Do you want the good news or the bad news first?" She asked. Her question faltered your grin and opened the pit in your stomach. Hadn't she just said hello cheerfully as ever? 

"Uh-" 

"The bad news is that old house you wanted me to rent again is no longer available. I can't book it for you." Brooke interrupted, voice flat and tone descending.

"Oh, I see." You shrugged, not half as hopeless as you'd expected to be by her bad news. You expected much worse. But you were pretty bummed. That home was the only one you had in mind, the only space you imagined finding true peace in for your planned getaway. The only home on your mind since you'd left it. You and Eddie had so much fun there. Sure, there were moments filled with awkward silence and questionable decisions made there too. But that little Hawaiian home had your heart damn it.

"But the good news is, it's for sale. And I asked them to hold off on accepting offers until I called you." Brooke rushed to inform. Oh. Now this was very good news indeed. You asked a couple times if she was joking. You knew she wouldn't do that. But you just couldn't believe you had an opportunity much grander and more promising ahead of you. Potentially more than a suitcase to pack.

Without any hesitation you formed a plan. Two days later Brooke sat next to you on a plane, a bundle of hundreds in hand and every pair of fingers crossed. You rented a chic little motel room for one night, and abandon your things there soon as they hit the shelves. You had a house to go buy. 

It all happened so fast. You made an offer any relator would be a fool to refuse, cash in hand. In the matter of an hour and a half meeting, you were signing your name on a dotted line and being handed the keys to a door you'd opened a few times before. It was yours. It was all yours now.

Brooke took you to dinner to celebrate. You bought her desert and asked her what more you could do as thanks. She had done so much for you, more than she ought to have done. The stunning woman shook her head and smiled and reminded you friends didn't owe friends anything. All she cared to ask of you was to make this year better than the last. To see you happier would be enough thanks for Brooke.

The flight back to L.A. was surreal. You spent it planning paint colors and writing a list of movers to call and dates to settle. 

And as soon as your plans were solid and your bags were packed, another weekend rolled around. It was time to see Eddie again. You drove to the rehab in the middle of nowhere and felt something like melancholy weighing in your gut. Something bittersweet in the back of your throat. Things were never going to be the same. 

 The halls were bright white, sunlight making the tile floor shimmer. Residents you'd come to recognize pursed polite smiles your way as you turned corners to find Eddie. You knew where he would be. At the picnic tables in the garden. Maybe with a book in hand. Maybe with a pencil. 

Today, he was sitting amongst the sprawling green grounds alone, a magazine on the table before him. It was closed. As you approached you recognized the Rolling Stone font across the glossy page, looking up to find Eddie staring a hole through the cover. 

"You gotta turn the pages with your hands babe, won't open otherwise." You remarked, stepping through the grass to see Eddie grinning up at you. He was more despondent today than he had been your past few visits. He waited till you sat at his side, resting your head on his shoulder as an affectionate hello. 

"Apparently there is a pretty scathing write up about me in here. One of the first since I paused the band to come here." Eddie voiced, letting one of his big hands rest on your thigh. His rings were missing, and his other usual regalia too. The grey hoodie he wore suited him well, you thought, with his pulled back hair. He looked very clean, in every sense.

"You don't have to read it if you're not ready." You reminded, lifting your head to face the man at your side. He left his hand resting on your leg as he bit his lip and looked to you too. "Or I could read it to you?" 

Eddie shook his head.

"It's time I start facing some facts, ya know? Start doing the hard work of facing what I have to change now that I'm sober enough too." Eddie sighed. He'd spent the past few months getting well, letting his body and mind recover. The next step was to grow. To start molding himself into the version he came here seeking help to rebuild. It was time for the hard part. The part he never got to in rehab before.

"I messed a lot of shit up." Eddie nodded, letting his eyes fall away from yours. "I should have done a lot of things differently. Especially with you." 

"Babe, it's okay. You don't have to do this." You assured, reaching out to smooth your hand over his shoulder. You had never held anything that happened against him. 

"I know we both kind of got roped into a weird and shitty situation. But I could have handled it so much better. You deserved so much more respect than I gave you. And that last night. You never should have had to take care of me like that. I shouldn't have gone that far off the deep end," Eddie sighed, letting his eyes well with tears, sniffing them away as he apologized for it all. You brushed away a loose strand of his hair and shook your head. 

"S'okay, Eddie. We were both just taking those days as they came. We did what we thought we needed to, to get by. It's okay."

As you pulled the guy in for a hug, Eddie fell into your frame without hesitation, burying his head in your neck. You held him there for a moment muttering something about how proud you were that he was doing his best to be better.

"Can I tell you something, now?" You wondered, smoothing Eddies hair as he pulled away to lock his dark eyes with yours. He smiled, when he noticed you were already grinning. When he nodded, you drew in a breath and said,

"I asked Brooke to book me a trip to Hawaii. You know how stressful the past few months have been. Hell, the past year." You began. Eddie nodded along. "She found that same little place we stayed in for our honeymoon." You rose your fingers to curl into air quotes around the last word of  your sentence. Eddie huffed a laugh before speaking up. 

"You loved it there. So did I. So you're staying there again?" Eddie beamed. So did you. 

"It was no longer available to rent." You revealed, watching Eddie's brow furrow. "Because it was for sale. So I bought it. And I'm moving there. Like now. Like after I leave here." Your smile was so wide it nearly ached your cheeks. Eddie was shocked, brows shooting up, mouth hanging open, palms held out before you. You took his hands and nodded to assure you weren't fibbing. 

"Oh my God." Eddie gasped. "This is perfect. I'm so happy for you." He wrapped you in another embrace, planting his lips to your cheek as you started yammering about plans to paint and furniture to buy and an open door policy Eddie was allowed to mind at all times. Eddie watched as you rambled, his grin flattening a little, until his lips were bitten together and his brows pushed togeteher. 

"What is it..." You stopped listing plans and straightened your posture to watch as Eddie sucked in a deep breath. Seeming to choose his words, you tried to remain patient, ignoring the pit in your stomach threatening to grow.

"I can't have you read me this Rolling Stone article because I need to do it on my own." Eddie spoke decidedly. "I can't come visit you in Hawaii. I can't-" Eddie shuddered a breath. "I know we aren't really together. But I need to be really alone, for a while. I need to deal with my own shit, ya know?" Eddie's voice shook as he explained himself, bouncing his knee and moving his eyes from yours to his lap. The void in your stomach widened exponentially. 

You wanted to argue back, remind him what he said the night you slept together last. How he said he wanted to be with you. But you couldn't be so selfish. You unfortunately understood where he was coming from. You swallowed your despair and nodded.

"Okay. Yeah, I understand Ed."

"I'm sorry. I lo-" Eddie blinked up to the sky and shook his head. "I'm sorry."

A moment of heavy silence swirled between you, as you made the hard choice to be okay with this, at least in the moment. Then you looked up with a grimace of a smile. 

"Can I still write to you? I'd like to still write to you." You declared, watching Eddie work to find composure. 

"I'd like that too." He breathed, forcing a smile. "I'm still happy for you." He assured, his voice thick with emotion. 

"And I'm still proud of you." You smiled, and you meant it.

///

Hawaii 1987 -

Another holiday season was fast approaching. And this year you had every opportunity to celebrate. You bought a little faux tree and put it by the fireplace. You decorated the big kitchen windows with garland and let Christmas vinyl's spin from the record player in the guest room. 

The little Hawaiian home was clean and cozy and decorated just the way you liked. Since moving in, fresh paint brightened the walls. Old familiar photos hung there too. A few miscellaneous tour posters and three platinum records the only memorabilia you held on to from the past four years.

On the kitchen counter was an offer from your record label you were still mulling over. The year off and away from Hollywood was a refreshing and much needed break for your sanity. Creativity seemed to flow more freely all the while. You definitely had music in mind to record. You just weren't sure if you were ready.

You liked the life you had here. The mornings you spent milling about the markets down the block. The friends you made of your neighbors. The quiet. 

You missed your old life too, though. More than you thought you would have. You missed making music and singing for crowds. You missed dressing up and going out. The closest to a wild night out you had since moving here was when Brooke surprised you one summer weekend. She stayed at your insistence and took you to the finest restaurant on the Island and gossiped for two days and three nights straight. And when you asked about Eddie, she said he missed you. She said he kept your rarely exchanged letters on his coffee table. She said you should call him. But you couldn't. You wanted to respect his space. To allow him all the room he needed to grow into sobriety and into the new version of himself he was anxious to learn about.

But Brooke wouldn't answer when you asked if you should get back in the studio soon. She said only you could know the right answer to that question. So you mulled it over from then until now. Teetering closer to calling back your label every day, eager to agree to record something. 

And then it was Christmas time.

It would've felt lonely if you let it. But you'd worked too hard on finding hope in the dullness, this year. You worked too hard finding peace in the quiet, this year. You reminded yourself to relish the home you got to call your own. How you truly felt you belonged here. You marveled over how fate handed you these house keys. You smiled when you remembered how you'd come to fall in love here, in more ways than one. 

Then there was a knock at the door.

Mulling toward the front of your home, you expected a delivery or two. You'd ordered gifts for your neighbors this year, and some for yourself too of course. You were determined to have a happy fucking holiday.

But the man at your door was more of a gift than you'd asked for, this year. 

Eddie was there, grinning wide, wringing his hands. His hair was a little longer, the longest you'd ever seen it. His frame was toned, his face was full of warm color and his eyes were bright and clear. He was a vision. He was so damn beautiful.

"What's all this?" You smiled, letting a laugh of surprise escape your lips. 

"Surprise? I hope I'm not intruding." Eddie rose a hopeful brow, his dark deep eyes peering into yours for the first time in too damn long.

"Shut the fuck up and come inside you fool." You smiled and widened the doorway, stepping aside so Eddie could enter. Your heart hammered at the sight of him, your soul buzzed to life at the realization that he was here, he was really fucking here.

"Just like old times, aye?" Eddie grinned, letting his gaze float across the home he'd discovered with you, a year ago. 

"Hopefully not." You noted, crossing your fingers this visit led to a more positive and promising outcome than your last time together in this home. Eddie laughed and asked how you were liking it, complimenting the changes you'd made since last he saw.

You rambled for a bit about a particularly hard renovation and another story about how perfectly another came together. Then you asked if he was hungry. It was almost dinner time. 

Before you knew it, you were mixing up your famous pasta sauce to the tune of Eddie's story telling. He made you laugh so hard you cried, and nearly burnt yourself stumbling to catch your breath near the oven. He ate your dinner with gratitude and answered your questions about how his life had been going. Eddie spoke about a tiny apartment and a sparse kitchen and an empty schedule. Eddie admitted it had been hard, but that he was finally in a place he felt he had control over. Eddie helped you clean up and let you make some hot cocoa's because it was the damn season.

You led Eddie to the living room, warm mugs in hand, rambling back and forth about the year you'd spent apart. You spoke about making new friends and considering calling your label back. You mentioned how much you missed him, like a lot.

"You're not mad I'm here?" Eddie cautioned, setting his mug on the coffee table and turning to face you. He rested an elbow on the back of the sofa and his head in his hand.

"Why would I be mad, Eddie?" Your mind boggled, unable to consider feeling anything besides unbridled glee at the mere thought of the man's presence.

"Because last time I saw you, I said I couldn't come here. And now I've just invited myself over all of a sudden. I'll understand if-"

"No, I'm not mad. I didn't think you'd never show up. Maybe that's the hopeless romantic in me." You shrugged, smiled and dipped your chin toward your shoulder, trying to hide your embarrassed blush.

"Romanic, eh?" 

"I never stopped loving you, Eddie." Your voice was a whisper. Eddies eyes burned into yours. His gaze was full of desire you recalled rising up in him before. His gaze was full of adoration you remembered him expressing. His dark chestnut gaze was familiar and warm and so nice to stare back into after too damn long.

"Okay I'm gonna say something, then. You can kick me out after this. But I'm gonna say it, okay?" Eddie seemed to decide. 

"O-okay."

"In rehab I did a lot of thinking about the past. What I fucked up. What I lost. But when I got out, I started to realize I had forever in front of me. And there was so much I still had the opportunity to fix and change. And I realized there was no version of forever I want to spend without you. I know this is like... the third time we've come to this crossroad but..." 

Suddenly Eddie was sliding off the sofa and kneeling before you on one knee. Suddenly, he was reaching in his pocket. Suddenly you were staring at a ring. The stone was tigers eye and the band was gold. It was what you tried to pick out all that time ago.

"I'm a mess." Eddie proclaimed "I cannot promise to make your life better. but I can promise I want to be a part of your life. I want to marry you. Actually this time."

"For real?" You gasped a chuckle, sniffing away the spring of tears that clouded your vision from focusing on every little detail of this perfect fucking moment.

"Very much for real. No contracts. No reason besides the fact that I love you." 

You were nodding, holding out your left hand and struggling to suck in a breath before you could say yes a dozen times in a row. The space in your stomach where despair often bloomed was now only full of hope and assurance and calm. The space on your finger that had been left bare since your tossed that ugly diamond ring into the ocean was now perfectly fitted with the jewel of your dreams. The space in front of you was now taken up by Eddie. And he was finally all yours.

///

New York 1988-

"So after Kelsey went to prison and Eddie got out of rehab and moved to Hawaii with me, we got lawfully married, got a dog, helped each other rediscover music."

"The release of your new album suggests you and Eddie are a duo now. Do either of you plan on making solo records again?"

"I don't." Eddie chimed in, finally settling at your side in the booth with a fresh soda in hand. "I'm too unhinged without her around. Plus, she clearly makes music better. It's because of her touch we won album of the year. We probably lost to Paul Simon in 86' because there was too much of my misguided influence on Steel and Stone." Eddie laughed and you shook your head. 

"Don't discredit yourself."

"Will there be a coin toss to decide who gets to keep the Grammy?" Rolling Stone chuckled.

"We'll probably keep it on the mantel where we both can see."

After that interview ended, Brooke picked you both up from the lounge and let you stay in her loft until your flight back to the Island was due the next morning. You didn't wake her when the both of you got up and snuck off. But you left a letter on her counter, explaining that she deserved an award for putting up with the pair of you after all this time. So, you left the Grammy on her counter too. ///

Hawaii 1990- You opened the front door with one hand and balanced a bag of produce with the other. The man at that bodega at the edge of town was still selling veggies from his garden. Even though he walked with a cane now he'd manage his way to sell you produce for half price every weekend. 

You breezed through your home, toward the kitchen where you rested your bags on the counter next to a radio that had been left on. Right on cue, Eddie made his way in from out back, dripping ocean water on the rug you put down to protect the hardwood floors. 

"Wanna come out there with me while the waves are still calm?" He wondered, finding a towel and kissing your cheek as a morning greeting. You'd been brave enough recently to wade in the water a little deeper than ever before, with Eddie at your side, and only when the tide was calm. 

"I'm making breakfast now," You waved off your husbands offer, catching a glimpse of your tiger eye ring in the sun rays through the window curtains.

"Then I'll help." Eddie smiled, stealing the tomatoes you were in the process of washing clean. He took the food to begin prepping and turned up the radio on his way, a song you'd both written played. You watched as Eddie helped make your meal and listened as he sang to you and thanked God for the music that made it possible for your paths to cross and connect together. 

What you might write next together was just as an exciting thought as what the pair of you might watch on the telly later. Life was easy to find love within when Eddie really clearly loved the hell out of you. This house felt like a home with him in it. Eddie was finally home... and so were you.

///

[lordprettyflackotara]

big bad wolf || sam golbach

SMUT MINORS DNI 18+. tw: drug lord!sam, drug dealer!reader, aggressive sex, orgasm denial, bickering, talk of drugs. a key is basically a fuckton of coke guys LOL. (i’ve been watching too much snowfall), choking, there’s a gun involved but no gun play

With a quick flick of his lighter, Sam Golbach watched the end of his cigarette spark to life. He inhaled deeply, allowing the scent feeling of tobacco swirl around his lungs. Cigarettes were Sam’s bad habit. One he only allowed himself to take part in when he was extremely stressed.

As he sat outside of your house in his BMW, the stress was practically suffocating. He loved Colby. Colby was a good friend, communicator, and most importantly, a good business partner. Sam would do anything for him, the two building an undeniable drug empire over the last four years. The blonde exhaled the smoke, ignoring the haziness it was creating.

Sam and Colby were the perfect duo to run what they did. Sam was ambitious and a perfectionist. The numbers he crunched were light work. He practically ran laps around them. Colby was almost the opposite, his mind never able to wrap itself around the logistics. But his silver tongue made the boys connections that Sam would’ve never gained on his own. He was too paranoid, his distaste for others often written all over his face. But Colby saved face, his smile and soothing words gaining them lifelong business connections and mutual respect.

The boys agreed on almost everything, except for one tiny little thing. Once a month Colby returned to their home town in Ohio, doing runs to their original client base. Once they sold their first few keys of coke Sam never saw the point. But Colby refused to abandoned the people who believed in them from the start. Sam never went with him and opted out of any opportunity to return to where it all started. That was until Colby had a solo meeting he had to attend in Mexico. The potential business partners weren’t fond of Sam, Colby’s charm the biggest selling point.

Imagine his distain when Colby asked him to do his hometown runs for him. If it wasn’t for the possible new extension of an entirely new product, Sam would’ve said no. Truthfully he was just making himself miserable. His eyes narrowed as he confirmed the address that was scribbled on the piece of crumbled paper in between his fingertips. It was the right address, it was yours.

The blonde glanced at the clock, sighing. You were supposed to come out at 1:00 am on the dot, the time 12:59. As Sam inhaled another deep breath of his cigarette he decided that if you weren’t there by 1:01 he’d bail. He perked up at the sound of your front door closing, your appearance a sight for sore eyes. Leggings hugged your curves, filthy converse covering your feet. A tight black jacket covered your torso, the zipper down just enough to show your breast bouncing ever so slightly as you walked. As attractive as you were, Sam only had one thought: Colby was definitely fucking you.

Confidently you strode up to the window, knocking gently on the tinted glass. Sam rolled down his window, exhaling the smoke through his nose. “You’re not Colby,” You point out flatly. Sam refrained from rolling his eyes. Instead he shifted ever so slightly in his seat. “Great observation. What do you usually buy?” Sam asked, wanting to get this over with. The orders for the small pool of clients here were never massive. The blonde was able to get by with his stock being in a simple black backpack. “I’ll take a key,” You respond confidently. Sam began to dig around in his backpack, shoving his pre-weighed bags of weed to the side.

“Colby sick or something?” You questioned. Sam wanted to ignore you, his cigarette hanging from his lips. “No he’s just busy, so today you get me,” He huffed. He pulled out the key, his eyes flickering over to your black purse. You reached into it, presenting him with five sheets of tabs of acid. Sam blinked a few times, firmly believing his eyes were deceiving him. “What the fuck is this?” He snapped. You were taken aback by his response. “What I trade Colby for the key,” You replied. Sam audibly scoffed, removing his cigarette from his lips.

“You are out of your mind. We only accept cash, no trades, no bullshit,” Sam argued. He had to admit your attempt to trade was amusing, your confidence unmatched. “Colby always lets me trade. Why don’t you grab an ehrich’s reagent and test my shit if you’re so hesitant?” You countered. Sam didn’t care about testing your tabs for quality. “Dont be such a pussy. I have good product here. Real intense shit,” You debated. Your insistence was beginning to annoy the blonde in front of you. He flickered the kash of his cigarette out of his window, attempting to maintain his composure. How had Colby let this go on for so long? How many keys was he pissing away just for some pussy? Cocaine wasn’t cheap. Sam avoided eye contact with you, afraid his emotions would be written all over his face.

You were beginning to grow impatient. “I have people who are ready to buy my product and you’re currently wasting my time and money. Hand it over,” You say impatiently. Sam frowned and boldly met your fire filled gaze. “Your product?” He echoed. He found himself sarcastically laughing, unable to comprehend your boldness. “You don’t cook it the way I do, therefore it’s mine,” You debated. Sam took one last inhale of his cigarette, before flicking it out of the window beside you. “Look I understand you let Colby fuck you and that’s how you got away with this shit but listen closely. I don’t think with my dick, so you’re not getting our premium shit for some Ohio LSD,” Sam spat.

He could visibly see your confidence falter, your crossed arms falling. “Now if you’ll excuse me you’ve wasted enough of my time,” Sam huffed harshly, grabbing the stick of his car and shoving it into reverse. In a split second you had thrown your acid in the car, the sheets landing against the passenger side door. “What the fuck are you-” He began to question, the weight of your body surprising him. You had thrown yourself into his car through the drivers window. You were not one to play games, not when it came to a deal. “You bitch! The fuck-” Sam hissed, watching in shock as you crawled over him and into the passengers seat. You crossed your arms, glaring at him. “I’m not leaving this car until you give me my shit,” You spat, venom lacing every last word. Sam gritted his teeth, growing rather annoyed. This was the clientele that Colby was running around for? The blonde made a mental note to put his ass through the wringer for making him put up with you. “Get out of my car,” Sam barked. Your eyes shot daggers, your position firm.

“No.”

Sam rolled up his window, throwing his cigarette bud out of it before it rolled shut. “Why don’t you try my product if you don’t believe me?” You counter offered. Sam scoffed, putting the car in reverse. The last thing your neighbors needed to notice was his presence everlasting in your driveway. “I don’t do drugs. Kind of the rule of thumb if you’re going to be in this line of work,” Sam huffed. You grumbled to yourself as you put on your seatbelt. “Cute and smart. Only thing you’re lacking is a goddamn personality. How did Colby wind up with you?” You questioned, mainly talking to yourself. Sam quickly sped out of your neighborhood, causing you to raise an eyebrow. “If you’re trying to drive like the fast and furious to scare me, it’s not gonna work,” You snapped. Sam rubbed his temple. What the hell was he going to do with you? He couldn’t exactly let you ride around with him all night. Murdering you wasn’t an option either. Not only was it too much work to clean up, but Colby would be pissed. He strummed his fingertips on the steering wheel, pondering to himself. You glared out of the passengers window, silently wondering to yourself what exactly was going to happen to you if you kept this charade up. There was only so long you could pretend to be as put together as a drug lord.

Sam’s mind was running in circles. He pulled out of your neighborhood, putting the car into sport mode. He slammed his foot on the gas, causing you to grip the seat. “Could you slow the fuck down?” You asked. Sam flew down the empty street, chuckling to himself. “Could you get the fuck out of my car?” He countered. For a brief moment he saw a flash of fear spread across your face, the sight giving him an idea. He slowed down, pulling into a side dirt road that connected a forest. Sam put the car into park, reaching over you and digging in his glovebox. He pulled out a small black pistol, clicking off the safety and pointing it at your head. “Take your shitty acid and get the fuck out of my car,” He barked. You froze momentarily, before taking off your seatbelt and turning to him. You closed the gap of space between you and the end of the pistol, the cool metal pressing against your forehead. “Go on, do it,” You whispered. Sam’s eyes widened, his hardened facade faltering. “Are you deadass?” He questioned. Your eyes flickered to his, causing him to gulp nervously. There was something oddly attractive about that look in your eyes, causing him to freeze. You didn’t reply, waiting for him to make the next move.

“Son of a bitch, you’re out of your mind,” He grumbled, removing the gun from your temple. How could he find you so hot for challenging him? Fuck he was growing weak. You smirked to yourself, fighting a giggle. “Says the one who just threatened to shoot me,” You say, a small giggle escaping your lips. Sam turned the safety back on, chucking it back in his glovebox. You nervously played with your hair, pulling at a random strand with your fingers. “You know, you look kinda cute holding a gun like that. Real God Father of you,” You complimented, attempting to lighten the mood. The sooner he warmed up to you, the sooner you could get your key and bounce. “You looked kinda cute having a gun to your head if that’s any constellation,” He said, attempting to be nice. You had an attractive aura about you, one that Sam was starting to see the longer you weren’t fazed by who he was. Maybe in a different life he’d take you out on a date. “If i’m telling the truth this acid belonged to my ex boyfriend, it’s probably shitty,” You admitted, holding up the tab. Sam muttered a snarky ‘I knew it’, which caused you to roll your eyes. “I’m not lying to Colby about it though. He just pretends he doesn’t notice. He does it as a favor to me to help me keep a roof over my head,” You explained.

Sam scoffed, “Can’t you just work at Waffle House or something?”

“I could ask you the same thing.”

There was a brief silence, before Sam chuckled. “So you’re not fucking Colby then?” He questioned. You let out a fake gag. “Seriously? Hell no i’m not fucking him. You only think that because i’m pretty,” You argued. Sam rolled his eyes, his annoyance growing once more. “I never called you pretty,” He debated. You could’ve laughed in his face if his audacity hadn’t frustrated you. “With the way you’ve been staring at me? You don’t have to,” You barked. Sam readjusted in his seat, turning to you. “And what if I do think you’re pretty? Huh? What if I told you I wanted to fuck you senseless right here and right now? What would you do then hotshot?” Sam bickered. You uncrossed your arms, unzipping your jacket. “You don’t even have to ask,” You mumbled, crawling over into his seat. You straddled his lap, your face an inch away from his. Sam could feel his face growing hot, watching as you shrugged your jacket off of your shoulders. It left you in nothing but a bra, your breast begging to be touched.

“This doesn’t mean you’re getting the key,” Sam whispered, glancing down at your plump lips. You rolled your eyes, rolling your hips against his. “Shut up and kiss me,” You replied, the blonde eagerly crashing his lips onto yours. He grabbed the mounds of your ass, gripping the flesh harshly. You groaned into his mouth, his lips suffocating in the best way. He guided you to continue grinding against him, his cock already growing harder through his jeans. You teasingly grinned at the sight. “Awe is someone hard for me? I knew you’d be easy, slut,” You mocked. Sam bit your bottom lip, causing you to whine. He reached around and unclasped your bra, tossing it aside. “I’m the easy one? You’re fucking your drug dealer,” Sam sneered, grabbing one of your breast and rolling your nub in between his index and middle finger. You groaned, meeting his icy gaze. “You’re not my drug dealer, Colby is,” You barked. Sam brought his mouth to your other nipple, sucking at it harshly. You tugged at his blonde hair, your back arching at the sensation.

You could only feel yourself growing wetter, your body aching for the bastard beneath you. Sam released your nipple with a pop, admiring how hard it grew from the exposure to the cool air. “So you let Colby fuck you too then? Whore,” Sam growled. He began to tug down your leggings, yanking your panties down with him. You awkwardly tried to assist, your head hitting the roof of the car. “For such an expensive car it sure is small, just like i’m sure your dick will be,” You hissed, the cool night air hitting your exposed slick. Sam ran two fingers up your folds, gathering your wetness. “You’re really turned on for a stranger. You really that lonely?” Sam jarred. You aggressively yanked at his belt, fiddling with the damned buckle. Sam continued rubbing your clit is teasingly slow circles, enjoying watching your face turn red. “I could say the same to you Sammy,” You argued weakly, helping the blonde shove down his pants and boxers. You whimpered as he rubbed faster circles around your clit, your anger facade faltering. You grabbed handfuls of his shirt, your insults replaced with moans. “Dont call me that. Shut up and moan for me,” Sam ordered darkly, a sadistic smile crawling up his lips.

It was like he read your body like a book, the cord inside of you growing too fast. You grabbed his wrist, the blonde refusing to slow down. “Holy fuck, gonna cum,” You whined, your warning only causing the sensation to stop. You immediately grew angry, glaring at the drug lord below you. “Bad sluts don’t get to cum, unless it’s on my dick of course,” He smirked up at you. You gritted your teeth, grabbing his length and aligning it with your entrance. You began to sink onto it, both of you letting out a moan of relief in unison. Your gummy walls were clinging to his cock, begging for more as you bottomed out. Sam bit his bottom lip, watching you eagerly swallow him whole. “Not so cocky now huh?” You giggled, earning an eye roll from Sam. He gripped your hips, before guiding you to bounce up and down on his cock. All cockiness and anger had faded away, the two of you moaning unison as his tip brushed against your g spot. You couldn’t control your sinful noises, the car windows beginning to fog as you tilted your head back in pleasure.

“Fuck, just like that babygirl, fuck,” Sam panted. For a brief second the drugs didn’t even matter, the big bad wolf facade you both demonstrated had vanished. Sam’s frustration towards Colby, your desperation to feel something after your break up. None of it mattered, all that mattered was his cock sliding in and out of you, abusing your sex as he pleased. “Feels so good Sammy,” You whined. Sam grunted, using one of his hands to slither up to your throat. He wrapped his fingers around your neck, squeezing at he fucked upwards into you. He could feel your walls squeeze his cock tighter, a mischievous grin growing. “You like that huh? Don’t call me Sammy,” Sam grunted. You could feel the knot in your stomach tightening, your thighs trembling. You brought your hand to Sam’s throat, mimicking his actions. You felt his cock twitch inside of you, a lazy laugh escaping your lips. You both were becoming spent, your orgasms growing nearer. “I’m so close, let me cum,” You pleaded, squeezing his neck. You maintained intense eye contact with him, the blonde obsessed with the way you moaned his name.

“Cum with me, cum now.”

His words sent you over the edge, the two of you a sweaty mess piled together. Both of your hands fell, the struggle for dominance now completely over. Sam peered at the exhausted girl laying on his shoulder, sighing when he came to a realization.

He’d have to come to Ohio more often.

[countessvalentines]

Best Bourbon I've Ever Tasted

pairing: cooper howard/f!reader

word count: 2.8K

warnings: 18+ Only, Minors Do Not Read!! sexual tension, smut, alcohol, swearing, oral sex,

summary: you meet cooper howard at a networking mixer hosted by vault tec. Neither one of you enjoy the scene so you sneak away to make your own.

notes: you voted on the premise, now here it is! If y'all like it and want more, let me know! :)

dividers by @saradika

gif by @doortotomorrow

Despite not wanting to be at a corporate party, you have to admit the venue is impressive. This mansion has picturesque lighting, perfectly placed trees and shrubs, a pool that looks like an ancient Greek bath and an ornate firepit. You'd seen a few nice houses in L.A at this point, but nothing this lavish as this place in the Hollywood Hills. 

This is what they call a "networking mixer," really just an excuse for people in the industry to show off and feel important. As the new face of Abraxo cleaner, your agent insisted you go. Vault-Tec was hosting and they hadn't picked a cleaning agent partner company yet and Abraxo was hoping your winning smile and personality would win them over like you had America. 

You make your way around, smiling and nodding at various suits. You definitely aren't loosened up enough for the "networking" part, and would much rather not do it at all if you can avoid it. You find a relatively quiet spot by the pool to collect your thoughts, and to consume a bit of liquid courage. You see a nearby pop-up bar set up and order yourself a gin martini... You need something strong for this. As you wait for your drink, you look around the party, seeing if any familiar faces are in the crowd. There's a few representatives from Abraxo you've met a few times, some familiar Nuka Cola faces that are at what seems like every function in L.A., and some Vault-Tec suits that keep trying to sell people on their "Hollywood" vault. 

You hear the bartender call out a gin martini, and you turn to grab it. As you reach for your cocktail, your hand comes into contact with another... 

"Oh, I'm sorry." A familiar voice says as you brush hands with them. When you look up, your eyes widen as you realize who's hand you're touching. It's Cooper Howard. 

He quickly takes his hand away and offers you the drink. 

"Ordered the same thing." he explains the mishap. 

Cooper Fucking Howard ordered your drink. You didn't expect to see him at this event - of course you knew he'd been the spokesperson for Vault-Tec, but word on the street was that he was trying to distance himself since the divorce. Maybe representing the company that employs your soon-to-be-ex wife was too uncomfortable. Who could blame him? 

As you're silent and lost in thought, he looks up at you. "Well, uh, please. You take this one." He insists. As you take the drink from him, you find your words. 

 "Th-thank you." Graciously you nod and accept. 

Quickly, the bartender brings up another gin martini and places it on the countertop Cooper tips him for both of your drinks and with thanks, he holds up his glass to you.

"To coincidence." He says in a toast. 

"To coincidence." You reply as you clink glasses together.

"You're the new Abraxo girl, right?" He asks, walking from the crowded bar and lighting a cigarette. 

He offers one to you, and you accept, so he leans his lighter into the cigarette now between your lips. You're shocked he recognizes you, but you're flattered.

"Yeah, that's me." You put on your best commercial voice. "If you've got a clog that's full of muck, trust Abraxo to get it unstuck!" 

You both chuckle at the bit and Cooper holds his hand out for you. 

"Cooper Howard." He introduces himself to you as if everyone in this place doesn't know who he is. 

You nod in acknowledgement and take his hand, introducing yourself in the process. 

"If you don't mind me sayin" Cooper says while taking a drag of his cigarette and a sip of his martini. "You seem a bit too good for..." He gestures at everything around you. "...this." 

Inquisitively, you tilt your head and take your own sip of the cocktail you're holding. 

"How's that?" You ask curiously. 

"Well, you should be makin pictures, pretty face like that? Wasted on commercials if ya ask me." 

The comment takes you by surprise, did Cooper Howard just compliment you? Did he just call you pretty? In your stunned state, you remain silent as he looks at you apologetically. 

"Forgive me if I crossed a line..." He says while putting the cigarette in his mouth and his now free hand on his chest.

"No, no." You interrupt. "It's just that I... I didn't expect that. Thank you." Finally acknoweldging his compliment. 

He looks relieved and smirks sideways. He seems to appreciate your humility. 

"Whys that, now?" He asks, sipping the martini while maintaining eye contact with you. 

"Well, To be honest I've heard quite the opposite from casting directors." You explain, looking down, somewhat embarrassed at the explanation. 

"Wanna know a Hollywood secret?" He asks, leaning in and taking a step closer to you.

When you nod, he leans even closer to your ear and says in a low but audible voice, "Casting directors don't know shit." 

You can't help but get goosebumps from the baritone in his voice, and a giggle spills out of you. 

He smiles in response and continues... 

"I started as a stunt man, ya know." He says while finishing the last of his cigarette and putting it out on a nearby planter. 

"Director asked me to stand in for a second, read a couple lines." He polishes off the martini. "He liked how I read, next thing I know, I'm replacing the guy the casting director hired." 

That's something you didn't know and wonder how many other people do... then it dawns on you. 

"I bet half the people here are casting directors." You point out. 

"Well, if someone complains I hope they kick me out." Cooper teases. 

"Not having a good time, Mr. Howard?" 

You ask, half already knowing the answer.

"Please, call me Cooper." He requests in a pleading tone. "And, if I'm honest, this isn't exactly my idea of a good time." He confesses. 

That, you can understand. 

"My agent thought it would be good to 'keep up appearances'. Not many people are looking to hire an old cowboy anymore." He seems saddened, almost defeated and you can't help but feel for him. 

You've heard all the rumors, you know about his divorce and the lack of work. You've respected him as an actor and been a fan since as far back as you can remember. Seeing such a talented and seemingly genuinely kind man in this town is a rarity, especially among actors. It's such a damn shame. 

"Casting directors don't know shit, right?" You remind him of his own words while trying to catch his eyesight with your own again. 

He smiles sincerely at you, eyes bright and shining. "That's damn right." 

There's a pause between you, full of a tension you can't quite place. In the silence, you finish your drink and place it on a nearby server's tray. Once you turn your attention to Cooper again, he breaks the tension.

"Can I get you another drink?" He asks politely, pointing behind you to the bar. 

You're about to answer yes, when an idea comes to you. Neither one of you want to be here... maybe an appearance was enough to appease both your agents. 

"How about I get you a bourbon?" You suggest, a hint of mischievousness in your voice. 

Cooper cocks his head a bit, looking at the nearby bar. "They don't have good bourbon, I asked." 

"Ah, well, I guess we'll have to get bourbon somewhere else, won't we?" You ask playfully, the liquor in the martini taking effect and giving you a sudden confidence. 

"I spose you're right..." He trails off, trying to deduce your plan. 

"Follow me, try not to make it obvious." You say in a quiet voice as you lean close enough for him to hear. 

You begin to walk towards the back gate of the backyard that leads into the rest of the Hollywood Hills. You turn your head over your shoulder to see if he's following, and by some miracle, he is. 

You smile to yourself as you find a trail behind the mansion, leading up to the Hollywood sign... Perfect. 

Carefully you remove your heels and start walking up the trail, your stockings instantly dirty from the dusty walk. The two of you make light conversation on the fifteen minute hike, both of you more winded than you'd like to be. 

Once you get just underneath the middle of the Hollywood sign, you stop to catch your breath and announce, 

"We're here." 

Cooper looks around, arms outstretched. "Is there a bar in the side of the mountain I don't know about?" He jests. 

You exhale a laugh and lead him to a darkened corner of the trail. It's so dark you can't see a thing, but you know your way. Cooper takes out his lighter to illuminate the path a bit and he sees a small cave mouth.

"What is this?" He asks awe stricken. 

"I'll show you, cmon." You reply while gesturing for him to follow. 

Once inside, a small hot spring is revealed, a few small boulders and shrubs around and some green grass and moss the closer it gets to the water. It's like a small private oasis... 

As Cooper looks around in astonishment, you dig through a nearby bush and pull out a quarter empty bottle of bourbon. You slosh the bottle around to get his attention, and it works. 

"As promised" You say, offering him the bottle. "Sorry, no glasses here. Think you can share?" You ask with a smirk. 

"I guess I have to." He playfully remarks back. He takes an impressive swig and hisses as the alcohol goes down his throat. As it settles, Cooper hands the bottle back to you and you take an equally substantial sip. 

His curiosity gets the best of him and he has to ask, "Does anyone else know about this place?"

"No, actually." You explain while sitting on the edge of the hot spring and removing your soiled stockings.  "It's off limits during the day and it's damn near hidden at night. I found it getting lost one night, but that was when I first moved here years ago." You explain. "Far as I know, no one else has found it or used it. At least, my bourbons still here every time." You say shaking the bottle of bourbon and offering it back to him. 

He comes closer to you to accept the drink and you dip your feet and calves in the warm water. You let out a satisfied sigh as you can feel your muscles relax. The mixture of the strong liquor and the warm pool is sensationally soothing, and you feel your mind relaxed along with your body. 

Something about Cooper makes you feel like you've known him for longer than an hour, and you feel less intimidated by him than you thought you would. 

Cooper follows and sits next to you, taking off his black cowboy boots and placing his feet in the water, his pants getting slightly wet. 

"Ah, damn. That's nice after that hike." He says, taking another generous drink from the bottle. 

"I hope it was worth it." You say, placing your hands next to you and leaning back on them slightly. 

"Of course it is." Cooper replies. "Free bourbon, a natural jacuzzi and a beautiful woman for company? You bet it's worth it." He flashes that trademark winning smile in your direction and you can feel your heart beat a little faster. 

"You flatter me." You reply as you look away, cheeks turning pink. 

"I don't do that sweetheart. I ain't just blowin smoke." He says in his smokey voice as he puts a hand over yours on the earthy floor. 

It's then you know he definitely is hitting on you, and you can't help but give in. One of the world's most famous cowboys thinks you're beautiful and good company... What better compliment could there be? The tension you felt before feels more palpable than ever now. 

In your alcohol induced confident state, you lean towards him slowly, pursing your lips slightly and inviting him to close the distance between you. Cooper obliges and captures your lips with his, tentatively at first, but when you kiss hungrily back, he responds in earnest. 

He dips his head to deepen the kiss, parting his lips and inviting your tongue to dance with his. His hand reaches up to cup your face as he scoots closer to you, kissing passionately. As your tongues dance together, you move your hand to his chest and gradually scratch your nails down to his stomach. With less support, you instinctively lean back and Cooper takes this as an invitation...Not that it isn't. 

His body presses against yours, pushing you gently to the ground. As you move, you continue kissing, each kiss growing more and more desperate. Your hands move across his stomach, tugging at his shirt and yearning for more intimacy. 

With the wordless suggestion, he breaks the kiss to remove his shirt tossing it to the side before leaning down to kiss you again. You smile against his lips as he moves his kisses from your lips to your neck, moaning softly as he does. One of his hands roams to feel your hip, gradually sliding down your form fitting dress and feeling your thigh. You lick your lips in anticipation of his next move and you exhale a soft whimper.

Your lust has built significantly since his hand touched yours and you feel your arousal intensifying. He lifts your dress and slides his hands underneath it, caressing the soft skin of your inner thighs. His lips kiss up your neck to your jawline to your ear, before he asks in a husky whisper, "This okay, darlin?" 

Eagerly you nod before kissing him again, your tongue parting his lips needingly. Cooper presses his chest against you, lifting up your dress to your hips and slowly moving his body down yours. He starts kissing your inner thighs, before biting your underwear and pulling them down with his teeth. 

Your head rolls back, your hand reaching for his hair. You intertwine your fingers in his dark hair as he continues planting kisses further and further up your thigh. Your clit pulsates, anxiously awaiting any form of touch. You bite your lip as you feel his fingers part your slick, wet, folds and his lips lightly brush over your sensitive bud. He plants a kiss there before parting his lips and flicking his tongue over it. 

You gasp sensually in response and your hips roll up to meet him. His tongue moves faster and faster against your clit, before slowing down and pushing his tongue inside you. He repeats this pattern a few times before gradually licking up your opening to your clit teasingly. 

Your hips roll into him faster and faster as your arousal builds and builds. As he continues his delicious motions, your hand reaches down to grab the ground but finds his hand instead. He laces his fingers with yours and holds your hand tight, accepting your tightening grips as encouragement. His tongue starts rolling circles around your clit as he takes his free hand and inserts two fingers slowly inside you. He pumps them slowly, in and out, while his tongue continues licking your clit. 

You can feel yourself getting close to your sexual peak, and your grip on Coopers hand tightens. Your whimpers get loud enough to echo in the cave around you, interspersed with curses and moans. Your clit pulsates harder and you can feel your muscles contracting around his fingers. Sensing this, Cooper pulls back momentarily to look up at you...

"Good girl, come for me... that's it." His words are enough to send you over the edge and with a scream your cunt releases, your entire body spasming and your vaginal walls contracting over and over as you feel the wave of pleasure wash over you. 

Cooper continues to kiss your inner thigh, sliding his hands up your body and moving up with them. He brushes your hair out of your face before leaning down to kiss you sweetly. You taste yourself on his lips and you moan into his kiss. He breaks the kiss and moves his lips to your ear, smiling against your skin. 

"Best bourbon I've ever tasted."

[anisangeldust]

Lavender Haze 𝜗𝜚⋆

did i have every intention to post this on 4/20? yes. but did i get so faded that i’ve had severe brain fog for the last day and a half? also yes 🫶🎀

Summary: Coriolanus sees you at a party with a particularly rough group of people and he just has to have you.

Pairing: Dealer!Coriolanus x Fem!Reader (Modern AU, Innocent!reader)

Warnings: DRUG USE AND ABUSE!, (mentions of: cocaine, weed, heroin, cigarettes, oxy/percs, and others), Mention of guns, mention of murder, mentions of ODing, mentions of rape, smut (p in v, fem!receiving oral) CNC/dub-con, impact play, masochism, minor gun kink.

A/N: dipping my toe into darker themes! happy late 4/20! (smoke responsibly)🎀🎀

It was painfully obvious you didn’t belong here, from the cloud of smoke settled around everything in the room, to the stray bottles of little white pills the attendees were popping like candy. It was all so foreign to you.

If your friends weren’t here, you’d have gone home the second you were invited in.

Coriolanus had been watching you, he was perfectly hidden in plain sight. Your cute little pink dress was like a magnet to his icy eyes, and the way you were stepping over discarded needles was almost endearing.

The uncomfortable look on your face grew as your headache got worse, the constant hotboxing starting to run its course on your untarnished little body.

Coriolanus decided to scoop you up and keep you safe before anyone else got their grubby hands on you, after all, he was a dealer; not a monster. And to have you taken advantage of by another seemed like a horrid option, so he went with the former.

“Hey darling, you look like you don’t belong here” Coriolanus cooed, walking up to you and making sure you knew he was safe.

“I don’t, my friends dragged me here, i don’t do this kind of stuff” your voice was small and a little timid, like a stray cat at a shelter.

“I can tell princess. how about you stay with me? i’ll get some fresh air, and i’ll make sure you’re safe” he reached around to pat the handgun in his pocket.

“Oh! O-okay.” You were in no position to deny this stranger, after all, he seemed very kind, and he was very handsome, tall with buzzed blonde hair and piercing blue eyes.

“Don’t worry hunny, you’re safe” he teased and wrapped one of his strong arms around you. “wanna go sit outside? you can even sit on my lap” he offered as his hand drew light circles on your waist.

“That sounds great, my head really hurts” you smiled back and lean into the handsome stranger.

——

‘Coriolanus, his name was Coriolanus. Coryo he said to call him.’ was the thought swirling in your head as you sat on his lap while he rested on patio furniture.

“I’m a dealer baby, I have the drugs and then I sell them to people, ‘s how I make money, it’s quite profitable too” Coriolanus explained, the lit joint between his lips and large hand cupping your ass all adding to his appeal.

Every once in a while a few people would come up to him with cash, he’d hand them a bottle of pills, or a baggy of weed, but when a guy about his age with curly chestnut colored hair walked up, he asked for cocaine.

“Alright Creed, I’ll have to measure it here though” Coriolanus murmured as he counted the cash handed to him by this mysterious stranger and then placing the bills into your hands. “hold this for me pretty girl”. His voice a million times more soft and gentle than when he was talking to the ‘Creed’ guy.

“Ever cut coke before princess? ‘Course you haven’t, you’re too much of a good girl” he chuckled against your ear. Grabbing the scale next to him, he pulled out a small baggie of white powder from his coat pocket. After measuring exactly a gram, he took a credit card and carefully pushed the powder back into the ziplock baggie.

Coriolanus took the cash from your hands and pushed it into his pocket, taking the joint from his lips, he gave you a kiss on the cheek before blowing the smoke away form your face.

“Can I try?” Your voice squeaked out, the joint didn’t seem too scary, and you wanted to at least try something while you’re sat on the lap of a dealer.

“The joint? Oh baby, are you sure?” He teased and moved your hair out of your face.

“Yes, I wanna try it, please?” Your big eyes were something he just couldn’t resist, so he took the rolled up cannabis and placed it between your plump lips.

“Breathe in like you’re sucking on a straw baby girl, that’s it..” he held your hand and the joint, looking deeply into your eyes.

The moment the smoke filled your lungs, the taste of tar and skunk filled your chest, instantly you coughed and stared to tear up. “Ew! How do you do that all the time!” You cough and lean into Coriolanus’ touch.

“Told you babygirl, it’s gross” he teases and takes a long drag before blowing the smoke into your face with a chuckle.

“Coryo!” You scrunch your face and whack his chest

“C’mon baby, how about this, I’ll blow some smoke into your mouth okay?” He murmurs and takes another drag, holding your jaw open, he blows the smoke into your open mouth, capturing your lips in a heated kiss.

Your hands reach up and cup his face, leaning into the sudden display of intimacy. He brings one of his large and calloused hands up and smacks your ass playfully, eliciting a giggle from your lips.

“Promise me you’ll never get involved in the heavy shit, smoking weed is bad enough, I don’t need your pretty little self dropping acid and then dropping dead” he murmurs between kisses.

“Never.. I’ll never” you promise him, knowing that you’re too much of a pussy to do anything beyond maybe shrooms.

“Good girl, and I’ll put a bullet into anyone who tries to sell you anything, you can’t trust anyone, they’ll get you woozy then rape your cunt baby, it’s not safe to do this shit.” He warns with absolute seriousness. How ironic.

“I won’t do any drugs Coryo, you have my word” you giggle gently and scoot up on his lap

“You little tease, need me to show you who you’re fucking with right now?” He jeers and throws the joint on the floor, grinding it beneath his heal before he picks you up and carries you to his, surprisingly nice, car.

“My place isn’t too far, I’ve made enough money for tonight, right now all I need is your pussy baby” he pays your thigh and buckles you in before climbing into the drivers door and closing it, immediately speeding off.

——

Coriolanus’ apartment was actually really nice, a pretty spacious area, a nice part of town, you’re surprised he doesn’t already have a lady to call his own. Though I suppose he does now.

“Nice isn’t it? Told you it’s profitable” he murmurs and locks the front door behind you two, immediately scooping you up for the second time that night and carrying you to his bedroom.

His hands are immediately all over you, and your hands all over him. He reaches and slips off his jacket, tossing it, the gun, his cash, and any access drugs, across the room.

Coriolanus almost immediately reaches up your dress and cups your pussy in his hand “fuck me, was it me who turned you on? Maybe my gun?” He teases.

“Coryo..!” You whine and buck your hips up like a bitch.

“That’s me, don’t worry baby, I won’t be too mean” he coos and pulls off your panties, throwing them into the pile of his stuff.

“Oh fuck me princess..” he murmurs and looks over your cunt. The visual in front of him is pornographic. Your pussy was glistening wet and puffy, your swollen and pink clit poking out of your folds a bit.

“Can’t resist baby-“ he cuts himself off by diving into your cunt like it’s his death row meal, the skilled muscle that is his tongue poking and licking up your sex.

“mmm! Coryo!!” You whine and hold his head (since he has no hair to hold on to) “so good! can’t.. oh god..” you buck your hips up and he hold you in place with his strong hands.

He continues to devour you, his nose every so often bumping your clit, eventually, he brings up his hand and starts to draw lazy circles around the bundle of nerves.

“Gonna cum! Coryo..! My tummy..” you whimper and lean your head back, savoring the feeling of your new, hot, drug dealer friend eating you out like your arousal was a sacred elixir.

His name fell from your lips like a prayer as you came against his face, grinding your hips and pressing his face against you while you rode out your orgasm.

A string of spit connected his lips and your cunt, his whole face flushed and sticky with your cum.

“Taste so good sweetheart” he groans and pulls your dress over your head, immediately unclipping your bra and attacking your, now very sensitive, nipples.

“mmm… so good for me, my good girl..” he groans and pulls you into his lap as he goes into a sitting position. Moving his attention from your tits to your lips. “Gonna ruin that perfect pussy, mold you into my perfect doll, use you whenever I want” he growls and pulls his hard, fat cock out of the confines of his pants.

Laying you on your back, he uses his hands to press your knees to your chest, allowing him the most perfect view of your dripping and sensitive cunt.

“So good baby girl” he praises as he slides his fat tip across your glistening folds.

“Please.. please.. need it so bad..” you blabber out and whine.

“I know baby, I know. Let me just..” he slips the tip in and growls “fuck me doll” he hisses and uses every bit of self restraint to not jackhammer into you.

“More! Please..!” You beg, his cock sliding into your tight walls inch by inch until the tip kissed your cervix

Coriolanus gave you a second to get used to his size before he started to pound into you mercilessly, his hips snapping to meet your clit. “Can see myself in your tummy baby, so good for me, ‘m so fucking proud of you doll” he groans and increases his pace impossibly faster.

“Gonna fucking cum.. you love being my cocksleeve huh? My pretty little fleshlight.” He coos and keeps up his impossible pace until you whine and groan, cumming the second time. He pulls out and tugs his cock twice before cumming on your stomach.

“Oh fuck princess, so fucking pretty huh?” He murmurs and hold your face, kissing your swollen lips.

“So good Coryo..” your voice is weak, as is the rest of your body, but before you can get up he stops you.

“You think I’m done? Very funny princess, maybe I’ll snort a line off your perfect tits” he teasingly thinks out loud.

You were in for a very long night.

[bluemusickid]

The Heiress

Pairing: Lucien Flores x Heiress Fem!Reader

Warnings: 18+, minors DNI, smut, oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v (don't be silly wrap your willy), slight dub-con (if you squint), slight dom-sub dynamics, just in general smuttiness, read at your own risk.

A/N: The collective brainrot those clips have brought us as a fandom (thanks for that, Tony ;3), is INSANE. This is just a smalllll effort in keeping that alive till we get the full movie. I have to confess: this is just shameless PWP at this point lmaoooo (don't judge me, i'm just a girl after all). enjoy and please reblog if you liked it thankssss <3 <3

Note: By clicking read more, you consent to my terms and have heed all warning mentioned above.

(Photos/Gifs of P, credz: @a7estrellas, the dividers are by the lovely @saradika-graphics)

Dull.

That's what these parties were to you always. Dull. Throw in a bunch of old men in stiff suits holding onto champagne flutes like their lives depended on it. Even worse, they tried to sell themselves to you, as if their sad marketing convinced you. You still entertained them, owing to a lack of anything fun happening around those parts.

That is till you met him.

Lucien, he had introduced himself. A cigarette hanging loosely from his lips, a champagne flute in his hand as he was engaged in a conversation with Hermann Astor, owner of the art gallery that was hosting one of the many boring do's you simply HAD to attend.

Truth be told, you weren't really listening to him. The whole "I'm-a-man-of-culture-so-of-course-I-know-art" spiel was boring. So many men trying to dazzle you with their "expertise", but you couldn't care less. To your surprise though, Lucien didn't mansplain or explain the intricacies of art missed by many. He let Hermann drone on, only piping in when something piqued his interest. He only met your eyes a few times, his dark brown hues holding his secrets.

But you knew what he was thinking. It was quite obvious, isn't that what most men wanted in this room? A chance to talk to you, an heiress to a hefty inheritance, maybe a chance to woo you, wine and dine you and then pop a ring on your finger. Maybe get you pregnant. Secure the bag.

Atleast that's what you assumed he wanted, but he didn't seem like the type to talk you up. He was mostly interested in having a chat about your life, why you hung out at these places especially since you gave no fucks about fine arts, and so on. It was surprising, true, but maybe men changed up their tactics ever so often. So you played along, as you always did. Answering with as much truth as you could.

You found yourself on the balcony standing next to him, staring at the vast grounds with its fine cut grass and neatly trimmed hedges, the moon casting its glow upon it. Turning to him, you decided to cut to the chase. You were bored, and only a quick fuck could break the tedium. Running your hand along his arm, you pulled him to one of the bedrooms, pushing him against the door. Leaning towards him, you brought your lips close to his, waiting for his permission to continue. He leaned forward, as you latched your lips to his, guiding his arms to wrap around you, deepening the kiss as you pushed yourself further into him. That's odd, you thought. This actually felt nice.

His lips, while hesitant at first, tangled with yours, the heat warming your bones. He ever so slightly placed his hands on you, running them down your body down to your hips, squeezing gently as he rested them there; pulling you towards him and his growing erection.

Itching to taste him, you knelt down, licking his growing manhood over the fabric of his tight dress pants. With a growl, he pulled you up, gripping your shoulders as he turned you around and walked you over to the bed behind you. Pushing you down, he bent you over so your ass was up in the air as your face was smushed into the soft bedding eagerly waiting in anticipation.

You felt his hot breath as his lips trailed along your thighs, his tongue running over the divots and the stretch marks that adorned your skin. You squirmed, wishing he would turn his attention to the place you needed him the most. He seemed to have heard your unspoken wish, because the very next moment, his lips moved over your core, his tongue lightly ghosting over your wet folds, your swollen core. You panted, your hands grabbing the duvet with a force that you weren't even sure was possible.

Lucien started off slow, and then dove in, his tongue swirling over your swollen nub, as he gathered your wetness on his finger and pushed a digit inside; his tongue and his finger working in tandem. You groaned loudly, pushing your hips onto his tongue, not realising that they were moving of their own accord, ever-so-slightly undulating and moving in rhythm to his licks and thrusts. Through the haze of pure lust, you realised that you were meant to be in control of this entire situation. Reaching behind, you tangled your fingers into his soft brown curls, pulling him even closer to your nub as you fucked yourself on his tongue, moaning loudly as he groaned at your act of dominance; the vibrations shooting through your core, making their way through your body. He added another finger, doubling his efforts as he felt your legs shake, and your core tightening as you neared your peak.

You screamed into the duvet, muffling your cries as your orgasm took over. You would've collapsed into the mattress had Lucien not been holding on to you, resting his head on your back as he caught his breath as well. The both of you lay there, him spooning you, till your breathing returned to normal. Straightening your clothes, you both exited the room, not meeting each others' eyes, no words spoken to one another.

The rest of the evening went very well, your secret rendezvous leaving you satiated, yet hungry for more.

The second time you met him was at the Charity Ball held by your "good friend" Fiona Mayhew, who got on your nerves most of the time, but did a lot of good for underprivileged children/teens and their education; so you stuck around. At first, you didn't really wish to go to her stuffy ball; but RSVP'd yes, with the smallest hope that Lucien would be there.

He was, of course. Dressed in a well tailored, crisp tux, his messy brown curls slicked back and gelled down. You hated to admit it, but he looked downright edible. You pretended not to notice him at first, making small talk with the members of the small group he was entertaining. You mingled, the both of you catching each others gaze as you talked to the other guests, your eyes conveying what you couldn't bring yourself to say. You barely managed to pull your gaze away from him each time, silently berating yourself for giving him that much importance. It was all a game, all a ploy.

It was working, though. Because the next time he caught your gaze, his deep brown eyes darkened as he walked out of the gigantic ball room, making his way to the large area where the cars were parked. Making his way through the maze of luxury, vintage cars, he walked over to a cambrian grey Bentley, leaning against it as an invitation to join him. He smirked, watching your hips sway as you sashayed towards him, ready to beat him at his own game. He held the door open, his hand moving from the small of your back to rest on your behind, giving you a small smack as you made your way in. Tsking, you gave him a wolfish grin, as you slid the dropped sleeves of your gown from your shoulders, his eyes bulging at the sight of your gorgeous breasts being freed from their confines.

The car shook, almost too violently, as you bounced on his cock, a moan escaping your mouth as you felt him hit your front wall, over and over. You'd always thought of sex as a chore, something to get over with. But it felt different, with him; it felt as if your body and mind split, and was only concentrated on him and how he felt inside. Your core squeezed around him, as you pulled him deeper inside; fingernails digging into his meaty shoulder. Leaning forward, he rested his forehead in the crook of your neck as he thrust up into you, pulling you towards him to meet his sharp and pointed thrusts. Your breath caught in your throat, lips ghosting over his as your breaths mingled, all thoughts of speech banished. He kissed his way down your neck to your gorgeous globes, running the tip of his tongue around your swollen nipples. This action made you groan, running your fingers through his hair, completely mussing them up and ruining his do. You couldn't care less; with the way he was making you feel, you had half a mind to pull him to the ballroom and fuck him in front of everyone to show the reason for his and your disheveled states.

His thrusts began to speed up as he held you in place, your legs trembling and burning as you tried to hold yourself up, absorbing every bit of his amorous assault on you. Undoing the buttons of his crisp white shirt, you yanked the shirt off his shoulder, biting down hard at the exposed skin. He growled loudly, thrusting up once, then twice as he emptied himself into you, painting your walls as you squeezed every drop from him, reaching your explosive end as well. The euphoria melted into your veins, swiftly coursing through the length of your body. But yet again, as he helped you straighten yourself up, no words were spoken.

Both of you made your way back to the ballroom, your clothes and hair slightly askew, and a bright red mark on Lucien's neck, that he didn't bother hiding for the rest of the night. You wouldn't be surprised if people found out that the two of had been together, let alone what the two of you were upto

You couldn't bring yourself to care, though.

And now here you were, months later. You hadn't seen Lucien for quite some time, but you didn't really care all that much. It wasn't like you were pining after him. On the contrary, you'd found quite a few men to keep yourself entertained.

You walked into Fiona's beach soiree, thanking divine providence that it wasn't a black tie affair. The fact that it was at her luxurious beach house, which was facing the vast ocean, just happened to be a silver lining. You made your way around the party, chatting with Fiona about her latest venture, the NGO she had established, the soiree a means to raise funds.

As the night progressed, you found yourself pleasantly buzzed as you sat at the bar, waiting for the bartender to serve you. A familiar voice directed at you made you turn, only to see Lucien standing there, a flute of champagne in his hands, his signature smirk on his face. You tried to ignore the butterflies in your stomach, shifting your focus to the drink placed in front of you. He looked amazing, his messy curls softly styled, his beautiful neck adorned with gold chains and a thick ring on his finger. You had never seen him this casual, the Hawaiian shirt he had donned sitting loosely on him, leaving little to imagination.

Raising your glass at him in a silent toast, you smiled, taking a swig of the bubbly liquid. Delicious.

"You alone?" He drawled.

You gestured around, "Do you see anyone else here?"

"Touché." He took a swig of his drink, eyebrows raising as he savoured it. There was a small lull in the conversation but you didn't mind. It's not like the both of you talked when you were together.

"So. Long time no see."

"Yeah, kinda hard to see someone if they don't really show their face at events." you mused dryly.

He chuckled, nodding at the accusation. Taking your flute from your hand, he put the glasses on the counter, beckoning to the garden at the back of the house, "up for a smoke?"

"I don't smoke.", you said smugly, downing the glass in front of you.

He leaned towards you, bending down to whisper in your ear, "Who said anything about smoking?"

You should've known. It never ended in just talking, in fact, you don't think you've ever had a proper conversation with Lucien, barring that one time on the balcony, the night you met him. It was as if the bond between you was solely driven by the sheer lust and attraction you had for one another. Just the way you preferred it, and wanted it, truth be told.

As you both made your way outside, Lucien pinned you to the stone wall, locking his fingers with yours as he held your arms by your head, his lips brushing over yours. You wanted to ask him many things, probably talk about the both of you and your arrangement, but you couldn't bring yourself to talk. Atleast, not now.

You felt your insides flutter in anticipation, as he left kisses all over you: your neck, your breasts, your stomach. Pushing your dress up, he left open-mouthed kisses along your thighs, biting and sucking till he left marks, you were sure of it. Pulling your lace panties to the side, he began to eat you out with a ferocity that aroused you and scared you in equal parts. All you could do was hold on as he held your wet folds apart, his tongue running over your swollen nub. Briefly, he pulled back to look at your core; swearing under his breath as he saw how wet you were for him. He dove back in, pulling your lips apart with his fingers as he fucked you with his tongue for all he was worth.

You had died and gone to heaven, you were sure of it. Stars exploded behind your eyelids as each swipe of Lucien's tongue made you forget all about your surroundings. Your leg was on his shoulder, your dress was basically falling off your body and you had nearly bitten off a finger trying to hold your screams in. If he weren't so good with his tongue and his fingers, you would have laughed at the way your body turned to putty near this man.

You were rudely pulled out of your thoughts by the feel of him pushing inside you, hitching your leg on his hip as he bottommed inside you. You gasped as he stayed there, letting you feel all of him as he feasted on your breasts, his thumbs and tongue working their magic. He began to move, his hand holding both your arms above your head, restricting your movements. Rutting into you with abandon, he snarled as he felt your pussy clench around him as he tightened his hold on your arms. Using them as leverage, he quickened his motion, anchoring your waist as he fucked into you wildly, using your body for his own pleasure.

"Fuck...take it. take it all." he grunted through gritted teeth, letting go of your arms as he held you steadily, his fingers making their way to your core, circling your swollen clit.

You heard yourself shriek as you came apart, throwing your arms around his shoulders as he reached his end as well, his warm spend coating your walls. Your core pulsed, nearly strangling his cock as the aftershocks died down. Suddenly feeling exhausted, you slid down the wall as he held you, gently rocking you till you came back to normal.

As you recovered from your explosive high, there was only one thought in your mind: you were truly and honestly screwed.

GAHHHH IDK HOW THIS TURNED OUT BUT OMFG i had suchhhh fun writing it!! Hope y'all enjoy! I don't do taglists anymore, just turn on blog notifs for @lexiscyberlibrary to be notified about any new fics!

Love ya!

-xoxo Lexi <3

[trashmouth-richie]

CONFESSION

eddie x fem! reader

TW: no minors, heavy degrading themes of the Catholic Church, smut, corruption kink, virginity loss, Eddie posing as a priest. Slight daddy kink, rosaries not used properly. Umm yeah it’s smut p in v, cum eating. Etc

a/n: I have no words, I’ll see you in the crimsoned room of hell, or purgatory— in that case, please pray me out.

Trudging with untied boots the thud of his clunky soles echo loud in the steeped ceiling of St. Mary’s. He stubs the lit end of his joint out in the holy water, sizzling and emitting one last pathetic puff of smoke. Dipping a tattooed middle finger into the holy water he makes a lame excuse for the sign of the cross, flicking whatever remnants of moisture left into the open air. Keeping his middle finger high for the man on the cross. 

  Every Wednesday, Thursday and Sunday nights at 7 o'clock on the dot, he had come to the brick built and heavily waxed wooden floored church to repent. 

  Father Hopper had gone easy on Eddie when he found him trying to hot wire his car. Punishing him to thirty confessions stretched over two months time.

Father knew Wayne Munson was on the verge of a thin line of patience, and Eddie was on his last strike with Hawkins PD, next step was prison. A shared cell with the other Munson and ex resident of Hawkins currently known as inmate #89432. 

  Fuck it, I’ll go to jail what the hell do I care? Eddie spat at the rickety table in Father Hopper’s poorly lit kitchen.

  “Son,” Father began, sipping a bitter cup of coffee, thumb nails scratching against the ceramic mug, “you don’t want to end up like him.” 

  “Well. I sure as hell ain’t gonna end up like you. White robes and that cardboard dog collar you wear— yeah fuckin’ right.” 

  That was back in May. What started as a desperate plea to steal a car and possibly sell it to get enough money to  skip the prying eyes and whispering licks of gossip tongues about how he hadn’t graduated, again, — ended with him getting assigned the confessions. 

  A stuffy little closet with Hopper’s coffee breath stenching through a grated screen. The dark walls seems to close in on him as he confessed to petty crimes and sex on Sundays. 

  Leaning against the desk that held glass orbs of candles, he spits in the nearest one. The flame sizzling out. And that’s when he hears it. 

  A small giggle from the pew nearest him. 

  He had seen you around school. Clutching your school books to your chest as you were shoved into walls and lockers. A ghost among the popular chicks and dicks. But never to him. 

  He himself was an outcast and truth be told he didn’t remember the time he hawked a lougie into Jason’s milk carton and stubbed a cigarette into his hamburger after Jason had purposefully knocked your lunch tray out of your hands. The cheap plastic tray hitting the tiled floor with a clank. 

  He might remember but you remembered the way his smile pearled big and pretty, his long lashes dusting the tops of his cheeks as he winked your way, and the way your panties clung with wetness at your heated lips. 

  His whiskey dark eyes bore into your head as he says your name slow, like reciting a prayer. His long legs swing as he struts cockily towards you. Middle of the summer and he’d shed his leather armor. Red flannel open revealing a tanned tattooed chest. Sleeves cut off showcasing muscly trailer park strong arms.  Jeans hacked off above the knee. 

  His smirk danced across his lips, tongue poking out to wet his lips. He had trouble written all over him. And damn did he wear it well.

  “Don’t tell me you’re here to confess the sins committed against our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ?” 

  Your legs cross and thighs rub together. A pulse awakening between your legs. 

  “Amen,” you giggle nervously, hiding behind heated cheeks. 

  Leaning his long frame against the edge of the pew, he throws a worn heavy boot over onto the seat, next to your clenched thighs under the white sundress. 

  He leans down, over his knee, his long curls dancing with his gesturing head, he’s leaning close and you can see the reds fading his eyes and the skunked smell of weed. Still that smile has you melting. 

  “So what are you in for? Forget to genuflect before sitting down last Sunday?” 

  His joke earns a smile from you and seeing your lips pull your cheeks up has him twitching in his jeans. 

  “No,” you roll your eyes in a girlish way, batting your lashes, “it’s not that.” 

  “Ah!” Eddie says jumping up, “no bother, I don’t think Father Hopper isn’t gonna show anyway.” 

  You don’t mean to frown and Eddie almost laughs out loud at your pout. 

  Strict as your parents were, they were demanding that you needed to confess for your sins. They were already pissed you skipped out on college, might as well take 10 years off school, you’ll never go, they hated your job, hated even more that you didn’t really have friends outside of the “weird Buckley girl.” 

  By the end of this month you’d have enough money saved up to move out, and oh how you couldn’t wait. 

  The dirty word slips before you catch it. Hands covering your mouth quickly, the heat on your cheeks burning deeper. You peer at Eddie with big eyes.  

  He cracks a slow smile and leans forward. Licking his chapped lips again. He’s so close to you you can see every eyelash in high definition. 

  “That’s another sin, one more and the floor will open and we’ll both be engulfed into the fiery pits of hell.” 

  “Actually I think it’s purgat—” 

  A ringed finger is placed vertically to your lips, shushing you from finishing. The satin feel of your lips on his rugged finger makes him ache against the teeth of his zipper. 

  Tracing your face with his eyes they dip down the slope of your nose and past the curve of your lips, the delicate pink rosary is hung on your neck with such daintiness it’s almost in open invitation. 

  He about chokes when the goosebumps rise on your throat from his stare, a bead of sweat trickling in between your tits. 

  Dark eyes swim into yours, and his smile is impish, full of wicked delight, “Let’s go.” 

  His hand snakes down your shoulder and he grabs your wrist in a light but thick grip. Beckoning you with a sinful smirk. 

  “To where?” You manage after peeling your tongue from the roof of your mouth.

  “Time to confess for that dirty mouth.” Eddie says matter of fact, turning his head and dragging you to the confessional booth. “C’mon I’ll act as Father.” 

  Eddie pulls you into the small wooden door in the back of the church opening it for you in a gentlemanly manner ending in a bow. 

  He rushes you in with snapping fingers and a growl making you squeal. 

  Sitting behind the screen where Hopper usually sat Eddie beckons you to sit in his usual assigned seat. 

  He makes a backwards sign of the cross with his left hand and folds his fingers, clearly his throat and using a deep baritone voice, “tell me your sins, sweet girl.” 

  When you giggle, Eddie flicks the screen, “this is serious shit— confess to me.” 

  You begin the way your parents had you rehearse at home. 

  “Bless me Father— wait, should I call you that?”

  “Daddy works best,” Eddie says without missing a beat. And your pussy clenches around nothing. 

  “Bless me,” you hesitate on the word, but Eddie raises his eyebrows to encourage you so you start again, taking a deep breath and exhaling slowly. 

  “B- Bless me, Daddy, for I have sinned, my last confession was 10 weeks ago.” 

  “That’s a long time ago,” he tsks, berating you, “have you not sinned in these last 10 weeks?” 

  Fingers threading the hem of your dress you answer, “I- I have.” 

  Eddie palms himself at your innocence. “Well?” 

  “I— Eddie—” 

  “Excuse me? My title in this confessional is Daddy please do not make me correct you again,”

  “Sorry, Daddy.” 

  “Good girl,” Eddie purrs. Sending shocks to your clit. “Continue.” 

  Clearing your throat you stroke the beads of the rosary hung against your neck. Counting ten, a small skip, another bead, then ten more. 

  “I was.. experimenting.” 

  “Drugs?” Eddie asks, chuckling in genuine shock, he didn’t think a girl like you would smoke, “yes the devils lettuce is tempting.” 

  He flicks his lighter open and lights another joint he had tucked in his pocket for the ride home. 

  “But we must stop these temptations before they start, plus who are you buying from because I need to know if I have competition.” 

  You move your head to the side and continue thumbing the pink pearly beads in your fingers. The clack of your nails against the beads fill the quiet smoke hung room. 

  “No… it wasn’t drugs.” 

  Eddie’s mind flips like a magazine. 

  “Oh yes the alcohol, another temp—”

  “Wrong again.” 

  Eddie’s frustration peaks, “well I’m not a fucking mind reader so do you wanna explain yourself?” 

  “I— I was.. I was touching myself.” 

  “Oh fuckin, Christ..” it’s mumbled and breathy but you hear it all the same, sending a slick to your pussy from your admission and Eddie’s shock. 

  He’s rock hard. The zipper on his jeans scream, begging for any sort of release. He needs to know more. 

  “Do explain,” he says intrigued, leaning forward, his hands folded under his chin. 

  Adjusting yourself in the wooden chair you cross your legs, and Eddie barely witnesses the white cotton snug between your thighs, the sneak peek having him swallow hard. 

  Taking a breath you go into detail about the videotape you had gotten from the adult section of Family Video. How you had only watched it once and the volume was muted, but you couldn’t get it out of your mind. 

  The way the woman’s mouth curved into an “O” when the man was pleasuring her. The size of the man’s penis and the way it slapped against his stomach when released from his jeans. How the woman’s perked nipples were firm but looked soft against the man’s tongue.  

  Eddie’s drool is wiped from his mouth at your explicit confession, and he starts to palm himself over his jeans when you explain how you had started rubbing yourself over your underwear at night. 

  Thinking you were about to have your first ever orgasm but weren’t able to finish because your mother had walked in on you, legs spread wide on your comforter, toes curling. As you were using the barrel of a curling iron to rub at your clothed clit. 

  The embarrassment from repeating the story to Eddie made your cheeks heat, and you hid behind your hair. 

  The silence is speaking volumes. The only noise is the cream of the wooden seat as you shift again, a flutter in your stomach as Eddie thinks of his punishment for you. 

  “Sweetheart,” Eddie breathes, a hiss on his tongue as he moves from behind the screen, wedging himself between you and the wall, his long frame leaning against the mahogany. 

  Ringed fingers tapping along the plump of his lips, his hard cock outlined through his jeans, “You are a filthy, naughty girl.”

  You scoff, “I am not!” 

  “Oh baby, you are,” Eddie says, boxing you in, “but, I know just the thing to…cleanse you of your sins.” He licks his lips again and stares you down. And you're certain you're looking into Satan’s eyes. 

  “Wh—” you stutter, having to clear your throat, swallowing thickly and dabbing at the sweat on your neck, “what do you have in mind?” 

  Eddie’s wayward curls skim the top of your chest as his lips curve around the shell of your ear, he smells like cigarettes and laundry soap, “bad girls get spanked.” 

  Gasping, he laughs at your shocked face. “I don’t make the rules babe, ok I made that one up, but this is for you swearing in the house of the Lord, now,” he gestures a thumb over his shoulder, “get up, you’re gonna need to be on my lap.” 

  You do as you're told, standing chest to chest with Eddie. Only this time it’s you licking your lips. One stretch up on tipped toes and your lips could connect with his. The faint mark of a nicotine stain paints his bottom lip. You wonder if it would taste like it. 

  He grabs your hips and swivels you around, his rings dig into the soft cotton on your dress, his nails scratching the fabric as he takes his seat. The wooden chair groaning on the sudden weight. 

  Leaning back in the chair he smiles wickedly, legs spread wide, he rubs his lap, tapping for you to come closer. 

  When your body is laid flat against him, you pull at the hem of your skirt to keep your modesty. 

  “This punishment is just for the dirty words,” Eddie explains. His ringed fingers walk along your spine, trailing down your back and up the fat of your ass. 

  He lays a warm hand on your cheeks and rubs it gently. Squeezing every so often. 

  Eddie's cock is hard under your ribs and your pussy flutters at the size of him. He hums and jiggles your ass before explaining his rules for your indiscretion, “you are going to recite The Lord’s Prayer while I spank you. Understand?”  

  You nod dumbly and whimper when his left hand tickles up your thighs. 

  “Start.” He grunts. 

  You begin the Lord's Prayer just like you were taught, standing before joyful cheeked families in a similar white dress on your First Communion day. 

  “Our Father, who art in Heaven, Hallowed be th—”

  A large hand comes down hard with a thwap! on your ass cheek, sending you forward and hitting your head on the wall. 

  “Oh,” Eddie whispers, not hiding the smile in his voice, “if you mess up— we start over. So don’t. Unless this naughty girl enjoys being spanked by daddy? Hmm?” 

  You nod again and continue. Trying hard to remember where you were. Hallowed be…

  “.. Thy Name, Thy Kingdom come. Thy will be done. On Eart—”

  Two hands smack your ass at once like sticks beating a drum. The hem of your skirt is lifted past the sheer white panties you are wearing. Reaching for the end of your dress to pull it down Eddie grabs your wrist, putting your hand back where it belongs he issued another spanking. 

  This time he lifts your dress fully and groans at the sight in front of him. Your plump ass has all but swallowed the see thru fabric of your panties. Eddie sucks a breath in through his teeth and places his left hand in the thick of your thighs, warmed by the heat of your arousal, his thumb rubbing small circles. 

  Thy Kingdom… shit. 

  “Thy Kingdom c—” the hardest slap yet has rained down on your nearly bare skin, and it springs tears from your eyes. 

  Eddie smooths over the red mark left on your skin and his tone is irate when he spits, “you already said that sweetheart, start again.” 

  His fingers snake further up your legs and he groans at the feel of your soaked panties on his fingertips. 

  You start again. And the spankings Eddie delivers are swift and merciless. The harder he spanks the more you cry out. 

  Sweat pools between your thighs where Eddie’s hot hand is wedged, his thumb teasing the outline of your panties and pressing soft circles into the fabric. 

  Tears cling to your eyelashes as your punishment comes to an end, welts forming where his rings stung and clipped you. 

  Words of reassurance fall from his lips after every slap and harsh whack of his hands. When Eddie leans over to catch a rogue tear from your cheek before it hits the carpet, your thighs slam together tight with a snap. 

  The groan he lets out is guttural and low. His cock twitches underneath you again. 

  “..and lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil Am—- ow!” 

  Quick, hot tears sting your eyes. A jerk of your head reveals a sight you would never imagine seeing… let alone in a church. 

  Pearly, and oddly straight. The calcified and slightly sharp teeth pull out from the red, irritated skin on your ass.  

  “If you want to repent for your sins, you need to put your trust in me, can you do that baby… hmm? Can you listen and give yourself to me? It’s the only way you’ll be forgiven.”

  A perfect dental record sunken in deep, small droplets of blood weep from the pierced flesh from his canines. 

His lips are pulled back in a snarl, dark eyes gleam with a feral intensity so ferocious you’re instantly terrified. He looks like a wolf fighting for a meal. 

  Paralyzed with fear, your lungs spasm in shock as he flicks out his tongue, running the wet tip of the muscle along the pattern of his teeth grooved into your skin. 

  Each pass of his slicked tongue deepens the arousal in your lower stomach. His lips curve around the mark, kissing it better, his hooded eyes never leave yours. 

  You moan when the purpling bruise he’s sucking into your skin is greeted with the same poked teeth that bit you earlier. 

  His thick middle finger had your panties pulled to the side and your arousal is coated thick on his finger as he pushes past your puffy lips. A blunt fingernail sharp against your inner walls. 

  “Fuck,” he groans, dipping his finger into the impossibly tight well of your sweet pussy. 

  Eyes rolling into the back of your head, you mimic his moans and bite into your cheek. Hungry for the look of a broken gasp as your walls flutter and tighten around him. 

  World spinning and head rushing, Eddie has you upright and straddling his waist. when you start to question him he shushes you. 

  Taking the same finger he had plunged into your molten slicked pussy, he rubs the pad of it around your lips. Like a tube of chapstick during a cold winter, he coats them again and again, licking his own, his other hand is tight on your knee and gently skirting closer to your hip under your dress. 

  When he's satisfied with his art on your plump lips, he finally dives in, his breath hot on your skin and you part your mouth in a welcome for him. 

  But he only laughs. 

  A throaty chuckle that mocks you, as you wait for him to kiss you, wait for him to press his pinked lips to yours. Waiting for his tongue to devilishly lap at the corner of your mouth. 

  But all of his attention is zeroing down on the rosary around your neck. 

  Each bead is slick with sweat, warm to the touch against his thumb, as he counts them in his head, your throat gasping on each inhale. Whimpering and moving your hips against him.

  Grabbing the rosary in his fist he pulls you closer to him, biting the fleshy lobe around the small gold hoops in your ears, his dick aches when you whine his name. 

  Huffed whispers tickle your ear and send shivers down your spine and flood your panties, “Such a dirty fucking girl, practically begging for me to fuck you.” 

  Another whine from your mouth and he’s bucking his hips into you, strained denim against wet lace. 

  “Is that what you want?” Eddie demands. His snake-like tongue tickling behind your ear, “all you have to do, is ask.” 

  “Please,” you beg, fingers curling into the flannel of his shirt, head thrown back as he circles your neck and paints hickies with his tongue.

  “Not good enough, baby. Tell me how bad you want this little virgin hole filled.” 

  His hand finds it way under your skirt to the desperate slick of your panties, his fingers sliding around and making slow figure eights against your clit.

  Tits bouncing as you move against his hand, hopelessly with no words you beg him with your body to give you relief. You whine again embarrassed to ask for what you craved, the sin that brought you here to begin with.

  When you don’t say anything he retreats his hand. And you try to chase it as it slips away, you whimper pitifully again, and finally succumb to his demands. 

  All embarrassment gone as you beg him, plead for his cock, “Eddie, please.. please.. I’ve been so good,” you oughta be ashamed of yourself but you couldn’t care less— if he could make you feel this good by barely touching you, you’d be on your way to that glorified “O” in no time, and you can practically hear the Hallelujah chorus.  

  He chuckled cockily at your pleas, but shushes you as he unthreads his belt, and almost chokes when you gasp in awe at his thick veiny cock, slapping up to his belly with a thump and the pearling bead of cum seeping from the slit. 

  His thick ringed hand pumps himself as he lines himself up with your swollen pussy. And when you sink down he slams himself home and you clench around him, a scream escaping your slack mouth.

  He groans low,  trying to even out his breathing around your pretty gasps and breathy moans. 

  “You’re gonna keep my cock warm before I fuck you like the slut you wanna be for me,” he chides, concentrating hard on on anything other than the tight walls of your pussy gripping him. “This is the rest of your punishment… you pray a Hail Mary and warm my cock, no whining, no moaning.” 

  You whimper as his cock stretches you out, practically biting a hole in your bottom lip as you taste yourself from where he painted them with your own arousal earlier. 

  A loud slap to your ass and you’re jolting forward, your rosary tight in Eddie’s fist as he brings you down to his lips, “start praying or I’ll go home.”

  “Hail Mary,” you begin, the same way you started before, only this time the pressure was never lifted, your pussy full of him, and his tongue hot and feverish on your neck, teeth grazing your skin ever so lightly. 

  He’s teasing you and trying to get you to break, he thumbs over your nipples until they’re peaked and sore in his pinched grip. 

  When you get halfway through the sacred prayer, your pussy aches and drips down to his balls. His tongue is lazily working a red and purple ‘E’ into the fat of your tit, one hand still holding the rosary tight against your neck. 

  You’re on the verge of breaking when you suck him in deeper, pushing your walls around him and kegeling him in a death trap. He mins and curses the lord’s name, and he finally snaps. 

  Bangs slicked with sweat and stuck heavy against forehead, he grunts, “Holy Mary Mother of God.” And you’re hiked upwards. 

  The screen you confessed your sins to with Eddie on the other side only a half hour ago, is now pressed tight against your ass as Eddie hammers his cock into your slicked and aching pussy. 

  The moan you elicit is toe curling, borderlining pornographic as the thick head of his clock slams into a spot you were unaware of reaching again and again. 

  “Pray for us sinners… fuck this pussy is so tight… now and at the hour of our death,” Eddie whimpers into your shoulder before biting down hard. 

  And when you yell out an amen your fluttering gummy walls spasm with joyful relief. Coating you and Eddie both with hot arousal as it seeps from you. 

  And the lips you’ve been staring at all night finally touch yours. 

  A bruisingly, sore puncture of lust filled kisses that would have your lips resembling a baboon’s ass for days. 

  He’s babbling now as your feet are wrapped right around his waist, his hands wiggling into his curls and yanking harder sends him over the edge. 

  He drops you onto your knees and opens your mouth with a press of his thumb on your bottom lip, when your tongue is out, and waiting for his cum, he jerks his cock once more and shudders when the hot ropes leave him and drip on your tongue and lips. 

  “Body of Christ,” Eddie says with a smirk, shutting your mouth for you and watching you swallow his load. He expects you to gag, possibly spit it out at him like the other girls would. 

  But when you lick your lips and utter a seductive, “Amen.” Eddie knows he’d never get out of confession for the rest of his life. 

😅hmmm yeah ily there will be a part 2

[slvthrs]

okay well now i need more dealer!vinnie x reader 😫

ofc babes!!

STARGIRL INTERLUDE | vinnie hacker

— MINORS PLEASE FUCK OFF FOR UR OWN GOOD —

after you and your drug dealer start dating and he just can't help feeling just a little too possessive of you

DRUG DEALER!VINNIE X FEM!READER

WARNINGS: NSFW CONTENT MINORS DNI, use of drugs, relationship sex, degradation n praise kink, pet names, unprotected sex (use birth control idiots), choking, jealous/possessive vinnie, daddy kink, spanking

word count: 1.7k

Me and Vinnie had been dating for nearly a month and we were planning to celebrate our anniversary by going to have dinner at his apartment but we both had to go to our friend's house for different reasons- I was there to support my best friend during her birthday party and he was there to sell drugs.

So cut to me currently sitting in front of my mirror doing my makeup- it’s was my everyday look of black smudged eyeliner but I added some shimmer on my eyelids to make them pop and added a deep red almost black lipstick to the middle of my lips and smudged it out- Vinnie’s favorite.

I fluffed up my hair and tried to find some sort of hairstyle to wear but I just ended up wearing it down. I was wearing a mini skirt with a red corset top- I was wearing a jumble of rings and necklaces along with his silver choker from hard jewellery. On my feet were platforms along with knee high black lace socks and to finish the outfit I was wearing Vinnie’s oversized leather jacket. 

I had finished my makeup and now I was sitting on my bed grabbing the stuff to put into my black purse- my phone, airpods, cigarette box, money, ID, lighter and my weed pen. That was when Vinnie walked into the room and looked at me with a sort of excitement which I then realized was due to the fact I was wearing his jacket and just in general of how good I looked.

“Peaches” God I loved that pet name, he sat in front of me on the bed, “You look so fucking good” he sad planting a kiss on my lips,

I giggled against his lips, and he continued “Do we have to go out, I bet Chloe won’t even know your missing” he argued

“Babe, it’s Chloe. I’ve known her since forever c’mon we just have to make an appearance and you have people who expect you to be there” I say with a pout and then drag him off our bed and then plant a kiss on his temple.

He was wearing a white david bowie top along with boyfriend jeans in blue and some nike air forces. The outfit was completed with gold rings on his hand and a gold necklace around his neck. To put is easily he looked fucking amazing I ruffled up his blond locks a bit and planted a kiss on his lips and pull him out of the apartment. 

We end up situated in his car and I connect my phone to the aux and scroll through my spotify to find a good song but I just end up putting my likes on shuffled and it ends up on ‘Stargirl Interlude’ and I start dancing in my seat and lip syncing to the song,

“I had a vision, 

A vision of my nails in the kitchen, 

Scratching counter tops, I was screaming, 

My back arched like a cat, my position couldn't stop you were hitting it”

The lyrics just end up causing Vinnie to end up in a fit of laughter and I end up smacking his arms and asking him to stop acting like a middle schooler with fake offense in my voice, 

“Holy shit what is this song called” He asks while trying to compose himself, I just grin at him and tell him it's called Stargirl Interlude,

“Oh wait it’s like the song you made me listen to um what was it OH WAIT STARBOY” He exclaims and I just nod at him chuckling at myself, 

“So wait if I’m Starboy does that make you my Stargirl” He asks and I think about it, “Hmm I guess so, I’m your stargirl” he just laughs, “You bet you are,” and then he kisses me again

— — TIME SKIP — —

We’ve been at Chloe’s party for about 3 hours and both of us want to leave but Vinnie has one more thing he has to do so I just end up waiting for him while on my phone when a guy come up to me, 

“Oh hey I saw you from across the dance floor, you look really pretty” He says, he’s about 6 foot, and is wearing a black dress top and black jeans, damn nice clothes,

“Oh thanks” I saw with a friendly smile hoping to end this conversation

“I was wondering if I could get your number your just like really hot” Fuck this is going to be an annoying conversation

“Uhm actually I have a boyfriend so no thanks” I say trying to be as nice as possible

“Oh c’mon I don’t see him anywhere” He says trying to convince me

“He’s in the back and I’m seriously not interested” I say backing up but eventually hitting a counter

He keeps trying to get my number for about 3 more minutes while I keep telling him to stop until I meet Vinnie’s eyes across the room in front of the door looking like he’s about to hurt someone, and that's when I remember that it might look like something entirely different to him.

I maneuver around the guy and I run to Vinnie who is almost outside the door as I call out his name, “Vinnie just listen to me!” I yell and all he does is tell me is to get into his car

We just sit in the silence waiting for eachother to say something, we don’t say anything until we get into the apartment and as soon as the door closes he’s on me.

His lips smash onto mine as I’m pressed on the door and he’s pulling my jacket off, “I thought I was gonna go crazy seeing you flirt with him” He says as he pulls his lips off mine and onto my neck.

“Vinnie, fuck, I wasn’t flirting with him” I moan out

“Fuck, I know baby I know but I need to remind you who you belong to got it?” He says it like it's a question but it’s a statement, a command and a promise.

He pulls me off the door and I’m bent over his countertop with him pulling of my skirt and my  panties in one swift motion and smacking my ass causing me to yelp and he grabs the base of my neck making me look up at him into his eyes that have darkened with something more sinister, 

“I’m gonna make sure the only thing you can say after this is my fucking name, got it whore?” He says while slapping my ass again causing me to moan a ‘yes daddy’ under my breath

He takes his dick out, pumping it a bit and then running it through my folds and slamming it into me, gaining some of the most porngraphic moans that have ever left my mouth.

He places his finger around the choker on my neck and then pulls my head back and then spits in my mouth, “C’mon whore swallow it” he says as his eyes narrow and darken

His hands don’t leave my neck instead they let go of my choker and now he’s choking me letting me see stars, it doesn’t take long for my orgasm to come crashing as I cum around his dick.

He pulls me off and then spins me around and picks me up and takes me to his room and places me on his bed but he doesn’t join me he gets up and walks to the living room to grab my purse and pulls out my weed pen.

He sits in front of me and takes two puffs of the pen and then pulls my mouth close to him and blows the smoke into my mouth, the mixture of the weed and the eroticness of the situation makes my head spin and I pull Vinnie into a messy kiss still recovering from my post oragasm haze.

I climb on top of him and I rub his dick with my cunt making him moan in my mouth and letting me relish in the power I have. But it doesn’t last long until he’s pulling me off of him and pushing me on the bed and climbing on top of me to fuck me.

He lines his dick up with me and slams into me again causing me to tip back my head and arch into him, I claw at his shirt and he gets the hint and pulls his shit of but not before he pulls of my shirt and I run my hands up from his abs up to his chest and I start biting in hickies into his chest until I grab his hands and start kissing his finger and then put the digits into my mouth swirling them around with my tongue and sucking on them as if they were his dick.

I open my eyes to see him staring deep into me just watching as I suck on his finger, he’s so focused on looking and me that he’s stopped moving and is just staring, “God your such a whore for me aren’t you, your my little bitch” I don’t respond I just moan around him finger and pull them out with a pop!

He takes the hand I was just sucking on and brings them to my clit and starts circling it and continues thrusting into me chasing his own orgasm, I’m so close that my legs are shaking and I’m about to cry while he just places a kiss on my lips and continues his agonizing pace. 

He finally cums after I cum for a second time and pulls out of me rolling over and he gets up to walk to the bathroom to grab a towel to clean me up and then finally lays down next to me grabbing the weed pen, and doing a few puffs before he passes the pen to me letting me take a few puffs before I succumb to my tiredness but not before he kisses me and calls me “My precious girl” as he cuddles up next to me and we succumb to our exhaustion.

[kimmberleeex]

“I’ll Never Let You Go”

NSFW 18+, DO NOT READ IF YOU’RE A MINOR.

TW: smut content, strong language (cunt is used), use of drugs/alcohol, and sensitive topic of self harm and physical abuse, oral (f+m), sex, etc.

** For the reader: The title is based off of a song that came out in 1990 called (you guessed it) “I’ll Never Let You Go” by Steelheart. This is also heavily inspired by an amazing fic written by the talented @unsolved-duvall , go read hers here.

** ALSO, this is fem reader x rockstar Eddie, and the POV switches back and forth between the two. I’ll leave Eddie’s white and the font will be pink for the readers. 🖤 hope you guys enjoy!

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It was 1990, it had been a fucking wild 4 years since Eddie barely graduated high school. Corroded Coffin blew up on the scene, hot and fast, sometimes it still felt like a complete whirlwind. After two sold out tours, a couple records, and some awards later, Eddie felt tired. The crazy lifestyle that he always dreamt about had seemingly become mundane. It was always the same cycle, tour for months at a time, a sold out show every night, the after parties every night, fucking some random groupie — or sometimes a couple if he had the energy. He never realized it would start to feel dull at some point.

Eddie was staring off into his dressing room mirror — it wasn’t that he was full of himself, though his cocky attitude would make you feel differently about him, he was just zoning out while lost in thought. Bringing his lit cigarette up to his lips, he takes a long drag of it. The smoke hugging his lungs while that familiar burning sensation hit the back of his throat, providing that fix of nicotine with a little bit of pain that he desperately needed. A stage manager popped his head in the room, his nasally voice pulling him out of his thoughts but not enough to give the man his full attention.

“5 minutes, Eddie. Then we need you backstage.” Without turning his head towards him, Eddie nonchalantly waves the short man off. The jewelry that dangled off of his wrists jingles slightly at the quick flick of his hand. He takes another long drag of his smoke before smashing the butt into an overfilled ashtray. With a long sigh, he slowly exhales the smoke and watches it swirl around him.

Eddie leans forward over a mirror that sat on the vanity’s counter, staring into his blown out chocolate brown eyes. Almost disappointed with himself as he snorted the white powder that he had already lined up through a little straw. The entire line disappeared as he moved across the reflective surface. Immediately he felt the drugs entering his system, tilting his head back, with a finger pushed up to his nose as the drainage went down his nasal cavity and numbed his throat.

Leaning back in his chair with a cough to clear his throat, he looked under the vanity counter. He gently taps on the back of some blonde girls head. “C’mon, doll. Time’s up.” He sounded uninterested, almost bored. The blonde slowly crawled out from under the counter, Eddie at least held his hand out for her to hold onto while she climbed up to her feet. His other hand already stuffing his half-hard dick back into his tattered jeans.

The girl was just some groupie he happened to pick that was hanging around out back, hoping to get a chance with him. She was pretty enough and was easily throwing herself at him. But he was just bored of the same thing — a desperate girl that hoped she could make him fall in love, or at the very least fuck him and sell the story to the tabloids. He was barely able to stay hard while she desperately tried to suck him off for the last twenty minutes.

She looked defeated and embarrassed, Eddie almost felt pity for her, almost. He pursed his lips together tightly as she stuck around longer than she should have, a look of hesitation and the need to say something on her face. He had an expectant look on his face that said she needed to go. And as if on cue, the head of Eddie’s security, Tommy, came into the room to escort her back to the venue.

He didn’t even look at her as she left, it was just easier that way. Hard to feel bad for the girls he used if he just didn’t pay attention to them and saw them for what they were — a one time, casual fuck. Eddie picked up a whiskey glass that was halfway full of Jack Daniel’s, swirling it around — the alcohol sloshing around the glass’s rim before he shot it down his throat. The alcohol burning the back of his esophagus, making Eddie click his tongue off of the roof of his mouth and exhale hard, his breath hot as hell from the liquor. It felt almost ritualistic at this point.

He rolled his neck, his stiff bones cracking before he rotated his shoulders trying to soothe his sore muscles. After four years of performing nearly every night, you’d think Eddie wouldn’t be nervous but as he pushed himself out of the chair and jumped up and down to get his blood pumping. He was shaking out his arms trying to steel his nerves.

The stage manager comes back, knocking a little more hurriedly before poking his head back in. “Eddie! Now, c’mon!”

“I’m comin’, I’m comin’.” He mumbles under his breath, he follows after the short man as he talks into the headset that rested over his ear.

“I got him, heading backstage now.” The man sounded overly confident, smug. A little man with a little power. Eddie rolled his eyes in annoyance, always being one to defy anyone with an ounce of authority. Balling his fists up into his leather jacket pockets as he continued to follow him backstage where his other bandmates were getting geared up.

Gareth was twirling his drumsticks in between his fingers, hyping himself up. Jeff was standing with a sound tech making sure his bass was in tune as he slings the strap over his shoulder. Another sound tech approaches Eddie with his pride and joy, his Sweetheart. As always, it’s one of the rare times that Eddie’s seemingly permanent scowl softens into a warm smile. Like seeing a loved one after a long absence.

When Eddie puts the familiar, worn-out guitar strap around his neck, it’s like something in him transforms. No longer was he Eddie the Freak of his former past with a giant ball of anger in the pit of his stomach. No, when he put his baby around his neck, he becomes Eddie fucking Munson — rock god. And his ego was as big as his asshole attitude that came with it.

The excited chatter of the crowd filled the arena, Eddie could feel adrenaline pumping through his veins. The overhead lights dimmed in the venue, there was a split second of silence followed by an uproar of screams and applause. Eddie’s heart thundered in his ears in anticipation as he watched his bandmates start onstage, waving to the crowd as they increasingly lost their minds.

Eddie looked up into the rafters as he let out a slow exhale. Finding the nerve to walk out onto the stage, he had a look of steel determination on his face. Once he emerges from backstage, the crowd absolutely loses their shit, the girls going absolutely feral. Without hesitation, Eddie struts to the microphone before letting the first notes of their opening song shred up and down his fretboard. His fingers moving up and down with such ease as he gets lost in the music.

Song after song, the crowd was going wild and was just full of energy. As big of an asshole as Eddie was famed to be, his heart had such a soft spot for those moments on stage that he saw the fans respond so well to his music. In between songs, he could be caught looking down and smiling at his feet. The next song they played was the most sexual song they had to date, the girls always lost their minds — and usually their panties when they’d toss ‘em on stage.

As the panties start flying, Eddie scanned the crowd, smirking at all the girls pushing their way to the front just to get a chance to be seen and gift him their delicates. That’s when his eyes fell on you. There was something about you that captured his attention, even causing him to tilt his head with curiosity. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it. It almost, almost made him stutter in his performance. However, he was able to save it with no one else noticing. This intrigued Eddie deeply because no girl has ever made him feel like that. He just saw them as fuck toys, just a tool to get off with. Then he’d discard them just as soon as he picked them up. It was easier that way, and he decided that he would do the same with you.

After the song ended, in the silence of getting set up for the next one, Eddie walked over to Tommy who was positioned at the side stage. He points you out and tells him to get you to come backstage afterwards. This wasn’t a totally uncommon request, Eddie would usually just pick one of the groupies already waiting out back that was dying for a chance to get with him or any member of the band if they weren’t what Eddie wanted.

But there was just something that was captivating Eddie’s attention, his eyes kept wandering to you through out the last two songs that they played. As the reverb from the last notes came to a stop, the lights went dark so they could walk off stage. The venue lights turning back on so the crowd could begin their exit.

Eddie went straight to his dressing room, plopping down in his chair. His sweat soaked hair clung to his face, he leaned down and ran the straw over another line of white powder, inhaling it down and leaning his head back a moment to let it seep into his system. Then poured himself some Jack, began swirling it around while trying to appear nonchalant as he awaited for the girl who caught his eye, even though his entire body was buzzing with excitement for the first time in years.

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

Every nerve ending of yours was buzzing with excitement as you got ready for the Corroded Coffin concert. Saving up for months so that you could afford a ticket while working your ass off at a shitty bar waiting tables. Where the men would try to grab your ass, or take you home at the end of every night. Always providing unwanted attention that made your skin crawl.

But this was your birthday present to yourself, you were finally going to see your favorite band. You had moved to NYC a year ago to try and kickstart your aspiring acting career. You were virtually all alone, your only ‘family’ was not supportive of your aspirations. Which gave you the mentality of: “fuck it. I’ll do it my damn self,” with a big middle finger to the universe as you chased your dreams.

Being such a stubborn person with a firecracker attitude was something that you both loved and hated that was inherited from your ‘father’, if you could call him that. You always called him a glorified sperm donor since he never did much to raise you and he drove your mother away when you were a child. He was a drinker and always took the anger that your mother had left him with, out on you.

“Never gonna amount to shit. Running away , just like your bitch of a mother. Good fucking riddance. Won’t be here when you fall flat on your stupid face.” Those were the words that your father left you with before he slammed the door in your face. They were echoing through out your thoughts as you zoned out in the mirror. You shake the parasitic thoughts out of your head as soon as they entered. Feeling determined to have a good time for your birthday, and not wanting to let your daddy issues ruin what you worked so hard for.

Watching yourself in the mirror as you smoothed your hands over your frayed jean skirt, the Corroded Coffin tee that you cropped was hanging off of your shoulders — your midriff also showing, fishnet tights on your legs and a pair of black Doc Martens on your feet. Your eye make up was dark, a hoop nose ring in, your hair teased and messy. Wearing a variety of punk bracelets to cover over up old scars. You looked like you were straight out a Hot Topic catalogue.

It wasn’t that you were necessarily trying to get Eddie’s attention, since his reputation was rather…scandalous. Tabloids always having a field day with all of his rude and crude behavior. You didn’t dress to impress him, it was delusional to think he would pay any attention to you — there would be a thousand girls there. It was just your birthday and you wanted to feel hot, which you did.

Later, after you finally got to the venue, you saw a variety of girls hanging around at the back of it hoping to get picked up by any of the band members, a habit they were most notoriously known for — they loved using and abusing their groupies.

Sighing softly to yourself as you wondered what it must be like. Clenching your thighs together when you imagined Eddie’s hands roaming over your skin. Picturing his ringed fingers creeping up your thighs…then quickly, you shake the thought out of your head.

Once the show started, you began making your way through the wall to wall crowd. Your tiny frame snaking through people, determined that you were going to get to the front. Eventually breaking through to the barricade, you held on for dear life as the crowd pushed and pulled during the crazy energy of the show.

Seeing Eddie up close in person was awe inspiring, you were unsure how he could be even that more beautiful in person. Still, you screamed along to every song. Letting the music take over and putting every ounce of your feelings into it. It was…therapeutic — just what you needed for your birthday.

Suddenly, you felt a pair of eyes on you. Surely you were imagining it, right? No, you weren’t because he was starting at you again. When the lights dimmed after the song that just drove the girls absolutely bat shit insane, you could see his silhouette walking over to the side stage. He knelt down and was talking to someone before going back to his place in center stage.

When the lights came back up, his eyes were still on you. A seemingly curious smile on his face, it made your heart absolutely palpitate. And yet, you stood there and remained so calm on the outside. He held your gaze for a long time, it felt like a staring contest and yet it didn’t hinder Eddie from playing the next song.

A tall burly man, clearly a security person, pulled you out of the hypnotizing stare of Eddie. He was bald, with a thick, close-cut beard that was neatly trimmed in place. A rough hand waving in front of your face to get your attention as he leans close enough for you to hear him speak. He smelled like cigarettes and a really musky cologne, with spearmint gum on his breath. “Eddie wants you to come backstage after the show. So wait here when it’s done, I’ll come get you.” His voice was gruff, one of the deepest you had ever heard.

It takes a minute to register what the man was saying, blinking a few times with a head shake. You stare at him like a deer in headlights, he looks annoyed as he waits for some signal of understanding. Slowly you just nod your head a couple times and the man returns to his former post. Eddie notices your reaction and smirks as he looks away, surely pleased to know he has an effect on you.

When the lights went out at the end of the last song, your heart was racing. Eddie fucking Munson handpicked you out of the crowd? Your nails were digging into your palms trying to provide just an ounce of pain to see if you were truly dreaming. Wincing slightly when you realized this was your reality. The lights came back up, taking a shaky breath to try and steel your nerves once the burly man is approaching you again.

Without even asking, he has a hand out and ready to help you over but you shake your head at him. Leaning your back against the barricade, you rest your palms on the edge of it on your sides, lifting yourself up with a nervous tremble in your arms. Sitting your butt on the metal fence, the man puts a hand on your back just in case he has to catch you as you delicately swing your legs over and hop down. Pulling at your denim skirt that rose a little after getting caught on the fence.

The man had a stoic face now that you could see him in the light, he never cracked a smile or really spoke to you as he leads you through the dimly lit hallways backstage. Trying to keep pace with his long strides, you’re practically jogging just to keep from getting lost. The crew and roadies were hustling backstage to tear down the equipment and get it packed up for the next show tomorrow. You get so busy looking around at everything that once the security guard stops abruptly at a door, you run into his back — it felt like hitting a brick wall.

Laughing nervously, your cheeks flushed as you apologize so meekly. He just rolls his eyes and opens the door for you, making a gesture for you to go inside. Once you turn to face the open door, you see Eddie sitting there. His leg is crossed over his other knee, his legs spread wide apart. A glass of what appeared to be whiskey rested with his ring-clad hand around it on top of the knee that was crossed. He didn’t say anything to you, his dark chocolate eyes just raking over your body.

This interaction only lasted a few seconds, but it felt like hours had passed. Somehow you found the courage deep within your gut and forced yourself to walk forward into the room. Feeling like a bad dream with the way your feet felt so heavy, like trying to navigate through quicksand.

The door was closed after you cleared the doorway, gulping nervously as you stood off to the side. Eddie didn’t say anything as his eyes followed you curiously. Deciding to break the awkward silence you were feeling, chirping up, your voice cracking from nervousness. “So…”

Feeling the blood rushing to your cheeks, all the way to the tips of your ears. A small smirk played on Eddie’s lips, he seemed…amused. His lips parted as he took a drink of his whiskey. His nose scrunched up when the alcohol hit his throat.

Clearing your throat as you look down at your feet, trying to avoid his intense gaze. Your hands fidget with the fraying end of your jean skirt before you continue. “You, uh, wanted to see me?”

Eddie slowly turns his head to the side to look at you, seemingly confused by your question. “Do you really not know why you’re here, sweetheart?” Pushing himself out of the chair and setting his glass on his vanity as he stands. In a couple of strides, he closes the distance between you. Subconsciously you lean against the wall that you’re standing next to as he approaches you.

When he’s right in front of you, he pushes a strand of hair that that was falling in front of your face behind your ear. He was almost…gentle. Nothing like any of the tabloids described him by the people that sold their stories. His blown out eyes softened as he inspected your face. When you don’t answer him, he knits his eyebrows together, pursing a tight lip. “Exactly, how old are you, doll?” Another pet name, it made you rub your thighs together without thinking about it.

Your breath had hitched in your throat at his closeness, he smelled like cigarettes, whiskey, and a mesmerizing cologne. He was so much prettier this close — and so much taller, he practically towered you. The way a splatter of freckles ran across his nose and cheeks. The dimple of his smile. The stubble on his face that ran along his deliciously sharp jawline. Surely he saw how fucking pink you were turning being so close to him, it was embarrassing to you, but it was pretty endearing to Eddie.

Finding the courage to speak, but speaking softly while trying to remain calm. He made you so nervous. “T-twenty-two, shit. I mean, I just turned twenty-three today.” A crooked grin spread across Eddie’s face, his dimple becoming even more defined. His smile was beautiful, he rarely smiled in photos or interviews. Everyone always saying he was the biggest dickhead to work and interact with, but here he was being almost sweet to you. He was making it hard not to just fall in love with him.

“It’s your birthday today, sweetheart?” He brushes his hand through your hair , his nails lightly scraping against your scalp. Not really trusting yourself to speak, you nod your head. He walks back to his vanity, pouring more Jack Daniel’s into his glass. “Suppose we should properly celebrate. Fuck you senseless for your birthday, baby. That sound good?” Your eyes widen in surprise at his words, even after reading the tabloids you were still in shock that he wanted you.

A small chuckle escapes his lips as he notices your reaction. “C’mon, sweet girl. You have to know why I asked you to come.” He walks back towards you, taking a swig of his whiskey. The gleam in his eye was devilish as his hand grips your cheeks, parting your lips for him. Your innocent eyes looked up at him under your lashes. An increasingly wicked look flashes across his darkened eyes. Leaning his face down towards yours, his lips ghosting over yours as he lets the whiskey that filled his cheeks trickle into your mouth.

There was something so erotic about it, you hated whiskey but still you swallowed it, with a scrunch of your nose. It made him chuckle softly as he leaned in, gently meshing his lips with yours. They were soft, his tongue parts his lips and traces the seam of yours before slipping into your mouth. He tasted like whiskey and cigarettes. A small mewl escapes your throat, which causes Eddie to groan into your mouth as his tongue continued to explore every inch. His hand resting on the side of your neck, his thumb gently caressing the column of your throat — feeling your racing heart in your pulse point.

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Eddie hasn’t been this excited by any of the girls he’s picked, it was not normal — but he couldn’t stop himself. The noises you made were driving him crazy. He began kissing down your neck, hitting a sweet spot on your pulse point. Feeling your heart race a little faster and the prettiest fucking moan he had ever heard when his tongue ran over it.

Murmuring over your skin, his hips pressed into yours as his hands rested at the exposed skin of your midriff, his thumbs rubbing just above the hem of your skirt. “Goddamnit, baby. I’ve barely touched you and you’re making such pretty fucking noises.”

A light knocking on the door interrupts them, causing a low growl from the back of Eddie’s throat. “Ed, car’s ready.” The muffled sound of Tommy’s voice on the other side of the door, he knew not to enter when he requested a girl to his back room. He had learned the hard way back on their first tour. Eddie chuckled softly at the memory , his dark brown eyes boring into your deep blue ones.

Reluctantly he pulls away from you, causing a soft whimper from you. Eddie’s muscles tighten at the sound, fighting the urge not to just ravage you there. Normally, he’d be done with you by now. Most girls flung themselves at him, it intrigued him that you didn’t. It helped that you were probably the most beautiful creature that he’d ever laid his eyes on, but it made him want to really take his time with you.

He walks over to the chair that his leather jacket was resting on the back of, shoving his arms into it as he gathers the Jack and his smokes, shoving those into his pocket. He heads to the door and looks at you expectantly, a little surprised you weren’t already following him. “You coming, doll?”

He watched your nervous fidgeting, watched how your thighs rubbed together. It made him smile knowing the effect he was having on you, already imagining how you tasted. He walks back over, snaking his arm around your waist — smirking when you inhale sharply. “I’m inviting you back to my hotel, sweetheart. Now, you can say no. But I’m just trying to help celebrate your birthday with you. Would you like that?”

When you don’t answer right away, Eddie’s tone changes from playful to annoyed and serious. “C’mon, babydoll. Use your pretty mouth and gimme words. I can’t just assume. Do you want to come or not?” His stern look made you swallow hard, he liked that.

Seeing you nod your head, he gives a look that causes you to squeak out. “Y-yes. I would like to go back to your hotel with you.”

It was so easy to make you blush, it made Eddie’s chest feel warm. Something else he’s never experienced, but he couldn’t fight this urge that he had to be near you. When he opened the door and lead you out with his hand on the small of your back, Tommy gives him a weird look. Because he knew this is normally where he parted ways with the girls. Eddie just held his hand up in a non-verbal way of telling him to drop it.

Tommy just huffs under his breath, turning on his heels as he mumbles into the earpiece that he had in. “Got him, he’s bringing company.” It made Eddie’s eyes roll. It couldn’t be that surprising that he would do this. He could already hear the lecture he was gonna get from Tommy in a few hours after the girl leaves.

He watches your face carefully, unable to determine if you’re regretting your decision yet. As soon as that thought crosses his mind, he knits his eyebrows together, asking himself why the hell he cares. But there was this gnawing feeling there and it was starting to freak him out.

Once he helps you climb into the back of the private town car, he climbs in beside of you — looking over to your face. Noticing that you let out a shaky breath, he grabs a hand that was sitting in your lap. It captures your attention, your innocent eyes looking up at Eddie. Softly he asks, “Are you okay with this? Honestly. If you say no, I wouldn’t be mad. Surprised, but not mad.”

Watching you nod your head, he goes to remind you about using your words, but you put a hand up in protest. “I am fine, yes. I wouldn’t have agreed if I wasn’t. I’m just…nervous. You make me nervous.”

This causes Eddie to tilt his head to the side, a small smirk pulling up the corner of his mouth. He found it adorable how fast you were talking and the fact that he made you nervous was endearing. His thumb rubbed the back of your hand, a feeble attempt at reassuring you. This was something he wasn’t used to, completely outside of his normal comfort zone.

“It’s okay to be nervous, doll. But I promise, I’m only going to make you feel good. Celebrate your birthday, make it one to remember. Alright? Just relax, I got you, baby.” His free hand moved up to your cheek, bringing your face to his as he placed a soft kiss at first. He began slowly deepening the kiss as if to not rush you.

The soft moans that emitted from your throat were ready to drive Eddie absolutely fucking mad. His hardening cock straining against his already tight jeans. A groan that was low and deep came from his throat as he continued to explore your mouth, his hand was sliding up your thigh. Resting on the inside of your soft, supple skin, his fingers were gripping so tight it would surely leave bruises in the morning.

Just when Eddie was ready to tear your clothes off, the town car comes to a stop in front of the hotel. Immediately, he pulls away from you as if nothing happened. A soft chuckle escapes his lips when he sees how worked up you are, a wild look in your eye as you try to catch your breath.

The driver opens the door for Eddie, he steps out and holding his hand out for you to use as you climbed out of the backseat. Tommy was at his side immediately and escorted the two of you through the hotel lobby, made sure the elevator was clear. Tommy leans in to Eddie whispering softly, “Same time as usual, boss?”

Eddie just does a singular firm nod of his head before stepping into the elevator behind you. Once the doors close, he pushes you against the elevator wall. His hand sliding up in between your thighs as his mouth was nibbling and sucking on every sweet spot on your neck. Taking mental notes on which spots made the prettiest noises.

Once the elevator dings, Eddie grips you by the ass as he picks you up into his arms. Your legs wrapping around his waist, he carried you down a long hallway, decorated nicer than anything the both of you had ever had growing up. But Eddie was too busy kissing you as he shoved you into his rooms door, fumbling with it to get the damn thing open.

That’s when you giggled, it made Eddie’s chest radiate with such warmth. It was like music to his ears, he cursed under his breath with a smile as he finally got the door open. Immediately, he takes you to his bed and sets you on the edge. Looking down at you, his tongue pressing against the inside of his cheek.

Eddie inspects you, your blue eyes with flecks of emerald green speckled through out the irises. The hint of freckles over the bridge of your nose. A plump bottom lip that was kiss-bitten, but you were chewing on it nervously. He reaches over and pushes back a stray curl that fell in front of your face, gingerly tucking it behind your ear.

“What are you thinking about, sweetheart?” He asks softly.

Your eyes move up to meet his, blinking away whatever you were thinking about. “Just, uh, you’re nothing like I expected you to be.” A nervous chuckle unwillingly escapes your lips.

Eddie’s posture straightens, his own laughter emitting from deep within his chest. He walks over to the bar set up in the corner of the lavish hotel room, pouring himself a glass of whiskey. “Did you want me to be what the tabloids say I am? Hmm? Is that what you want for your birthday?” He takes a sip of the Jack, his chocolate eyes — that were just a hue darker than the whiskey, were peering over the rim of the glass at you.

He watches as you shift on the bed, your thighs clenching together before standing up and nervously walking over to you. “I just want you, honestly.” Noticing the sincerity in your voice, he searches your gorgeous eyes for any sign of deception.

“You just want me?” His voice is soft, but there’s an incredulous tone to it. Shifting his gaze away for a moment before returning back to you, he holds the glass of Jack up to your lips. “Drink.” He commands as he tilts the cup upwards, letting it spill into your mouth. It’s cold from the ice, but the alcohol burns your throat. He lets you finish the rest of the glass, a grin turning up the corners of his lips. “Good girl,” he praises.

A little whimper escapes your lips at his praise, it makes Eddie’s eyebrow quirk up into his curls. “God, you make such pretty noises.” His fingers delicately brush up the inside of your thigh, inching closer to your already aching core. “I haven’t even really touched you, yet.”

A wicked smile pulls at his mouth as he watches the soft gasp come out of you as he gets closer. Feeling the heat radiating from your core already, he presses firmly against the already dampened panties. A low groan comes from his throat as he rubs a firm circle around your clothed swollen bud. He watches you moan softly, noticing how your knees are already shaking. So, he snakes his arm around your waist to keep you upright as he continues to tease you through your panties.

“Already so wet for me, hm? So eager, doll face?” He peppers kisses along your neck, remembering the sweet spots that make you a whimpering mess especially combined with his relentless over the underwear teasing.

Nibbling on one of the sweet spots on your neck and sucking the sensitive skin into his mouth, it causes your knees to buckle and fall into him. Eddie just chuckles darkly against your neck, picking you up and setting you on the edge of the bed. “So responsive.” He murmurs as he begins to undress you. His hands sliding over your skin as he pulls your crop top off of you, revealing a black lacy push up bra. His eyebrows quirk up at the delicious sight of you, a grin pulling at the corners of his mouth. Delicately he unbuttons your jean skirt, tugging down on it. “Need you to lift your hips for me, sweetheart.”

Falling back onto the plush bed and lifting your hips so that Eddie can pull your skirt down, his fingers grazing over your skin as he does so. His hands quickly untie your shoes then pull them off. Bringing your ankle up to his lips as he kisses softly, hearing the small gasp from you made his cock twitch. His calloused, strong hands rubbed up your calves through the fishnet stockings as he slowly spread your legs apart. The thin black lacy panties already damp with the slick of your arousal, with help of the added teasing from his fingers.

His eyes scanned over your body, admiring your beautiful form. “So pretty…” he murmured quietly, hoping you didn’t hear him. Your eyes met with his, making his heart clench. Stuffing that feeling down, he hooks his fingers into your tights and panties, pulling them down slowly. As your smooth, slick pussy is revealed to him, it causes a low growl to form in the back of his throat.

“Fucking hell…” he mumbles as he places wet kisses on the inside of your thighs. “Gotta taste that pretty pussy, baby.” He nibbles the sensitive skin, causing you to jump away from him and moan softly. Hooking his arms under your thighs, he drags you to the edge of the bed. “Don’t run away from me. Gonna make you feel so good, pretty.” He continues to nibble on the inside of your thighs and immediately soothes the sensitive flesh with kisses, running his tongue over your bitten skin.

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Eddie’s mouth was all over every inch of your inner thigh and it was driving you absolutely wild. He’d find a sweet spot that caused you to moan a particular way and he would spend extra time on it. His strong arms hooked around your thighs and resting on your hips, keeping you in place for him. Slowly he inched up to your aching pussy, already dripping with your essence and you could feel yourself clenching at nothing. Feeling desperate to be filled with anything he had to offer at this point.

Unable to meet his gaze, you closed your eyes when he was almost to your wet cunt. That’s when Eddie’s rough voice broke through your concentration. “Eyes on me, sweetheart.” The pet names were causing a flutter in your tummy that you didn’t like. It was going to make it that much harder when you inevitably had to leave. When you don’t listen right away, Eddie huffs in annoyance as he climbs up your body until he has a hand resting next to your head — keeping his body hovering above you.

“What the hell is going on in that pretty little head of yours?” He asked curiously, but there was a hint of aggravation. It made you shrink at the thought that you were annoying him with being so fucking nervous. He was probably used to being done by now with girls, and here you were — can’t even get out of your head for a second long enough to fuck the hottest guy on the planet right now.

Chewing your bottom lip as forces you to meet his gaze with his other hand on your face. “Can I ask you something?” You nervously ask.

Eddie sits on the edge of the bed, he was still clothed while you were only wearing a bra and the jewelry on your wrists. It made you feel extremely vulnerable. So when you sat up with him, you hugged your arms around yourself — trying to hide yourself as much as possible.

He had his head tilted to the side, waiting for this question. “Please don’t hate me when I ask you this, but what made you pick me?” Your voice was soft, insecure sounding as you shuddered internally at how fucking cringy you felt for asking that.

Eddie’s eyes softened, his fingers delicately brushing your hair off of your shoulder before he leaned in to kiss it gently. “Because you seemed different. And then I met you, and realized that was definitely true.” He chuckled, making a lump form in your throat. “Different is good, baby. Promise.” He places a couple more kisses along your collarbone and your arms begin to loosen around yourself. He murmurs along your skin. “Tell me your name.” It wasn’t a question, it was more of a gentle command.

“I-It’s Y/N.” You practically whisper to him.

“Y/N,” he echoes softly. “That’s a pretty name.”

Turning your head to look at him, seeing him be so soft and gentle with you. Where was the asshole that everyone claimed him to be? Is this what he did with other girls? Or were you truly different?

Eddie’s eyes had dropped to your arms that were now in your lap. Gingerly, he picks one up and adjusts the bracelets off of your wrists. Quickly, you try to yank your arm back from him but his grip is stronger than yours. His fingers trace over the scars etched into your skin. Old burn marks from your ‘father’ when he was on a rage-filled bender — putting his cigarettes out on you when you cried for your mom, and a few self inflicted ones. Wincing at the memories, Eddie brings your wrist up to his face, kissing the scars so sweetly it made your stomach flip.

His eyes were sad, which you hated. This is why you kept them covered up, it was the exact look that Eddie had on his face right now. It made you want to run. When he finally spoke, it was barely above a whisper. “You’re beautiful, you know that?” His eyes meet yours, a gentle understanding in them that you didn’t expect to see.

He stood up and in one fell swoop, pulled his shirt off of his body. His torso was toned, littered with tattoos and some chest hair. Then he knelt down at your feet again, he held his hair out of the way as he showed you old cigarette burn scars. Something apparently the two of you had in common.

The tabloids assumed Eddie had a tragic backstory, as most musicians in the metal industry do, but whenever he was asked he would never give an answer — or he’d bullshit around it to change the subject.

“Seems we might not be that different.” He said softly.

Leaning down, offering him the same gentle kindness, you place a soft kiss over the scars. That’s when Eddie gently pushes you away, trying to distance himself again.

Hooking his arms around your thighs again, instead of taking his time with kisses, he just dives in to your wet heat. This was his way of changing the subject. A groan leaves his throat as he tastes your sweet nectar, his tongue diving in and curling up between your wet folds.

The sensation is almost shell shocking as you just lean back onto your elbows and try to adjust to them. He spreads your thighs further apart, shaking his head back and forth a little, his nose rubbing across your swollen clit as he does so. The moans that were leaving your mouth, you had no idea you were capable of making.

Eddie stares up at you with half-lidded eyes, his tongue drags up your wet slit before his lips engulf your swollen bud into his mouth. He sucks on it as his tongue deliberately swirls around it. Making pleased noises as he felt your hips try to buck up against him. Feeling his middle finger rub up and down your slit, gathering the juices on the pad of it before he slowly slides it into you. Inching it to allow your tightness to get used to his thick digit. He groaned against your cunt as he surely was imagining it wrapped around his cock.

Pulling back just slight enough to speak, his voice rough with desire. His finger slowly sliding in and out of you, but you whimper at the loss of his mouth. “Fuck, sweetheart.” Your pussy clenching around his finger at the pet name, he groans louder. “So fucking tight.” His finger curls up against the spot that not even you can reach, causing you to practically see stars. The moan that you let out impressed even you, but you couldn’t even help it if you tried. “Make the prettiest fucking noises f’me, fuck.” His thumb was rubbing circles around your clit as he kissed the inside of your thigh. The cool metal of his rings brush up against your heated core, reminding and confirming that he keeps them on.

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Eddie slid a second finger into your wet heat, allowing you to adjust to the added girth — preparing you for when you take him fully. Groaning against your thigh as he kissed and nibbled it, his middle and ring finger were curling and uncurling inside of you. Putting pressure on your sensitive g-spot as he slowly slid his slick covered fingers in and out. His thumb was still rolling around your swollen bundle of nerves.

He was admiring how pretty your pussy was as it clenched and sucked his fingers in. “Such a good girl. Making ya feel good, baby?” Eddie cooed as he watched your face, trying so hard to concentrate on forming a response, but your body writhed in pleasure and pretty moans came out instead.

He grinned against the supple, bruise bitten skin of your inner thighs as his fingers kept working their magic. Most girls didn’t get this fucked out until his dick was stretching them open. Eddie imagined how fucking hot it was going to be to see you react to his cock inside of you. The way your body was responding to him, he could feel you getting close.

Murmuring against your skin, encouraging you and coaching you through it — he could tell no one’s made you feel like this and it pleased him to know that he was your first. “C’mon, baby. Let go for me. Let me see that pretty pussy cum on my fingers.” Groaning against your skin with each and every pretty little whimper and moan that you made. He was fighting every one of his nerve endings not to sink his aching cock into you.

That’s when he feels your body letting go, your back arches as your hand finds his resting on your thigh, squeezing it hard as your orgasm rocks through you. The moans that were leaving your lips were unlike anything he’d ever heard before, he could feel his cock drooling with pre-cum in his tight pants. His fingers continue coaxing you through your high, your pussy clenching and unclenching as your essence was bubbling out and soaking his hand.

It was truly beautiful to watch and he was mesmerized, murmuring softly. “That’s my good girl.” Slowly he pulled his fingers out, causing you to whimper at the loss. A crooked grin flashes across Eddie’s face before his tongue lazily laps over your soaked folds. It causes you to jump with how sensitive you are now, but he just holds you in place as he cleans up all your sweet nectar like a man that was starved.

Once he was done, he stood up, towering over you as you laid there on the bed. Your blue eyes glazed over with a dumb grin on your face, Eddie grinned down at you. “Told you I was gonna make you feel real good, sweetheart.” His fingers ghosted over your skin before he was pulling you to your feet. Your legs were a little shaky, so he held you close. “How are you feeling?”

Eddie’s hands were roaming over your back, unhooking your bra and sliding it off of your shoulders. Revealing your perfectly sized, full and round breasts. He marveled as one of his hands roamed over the supple skin, pinching your pink nipple between his forefinger and thumb, rolling it gently. Your head falls into Eddie’s neck, overwhelmed by the pleasure still coursing through your body.

When you don’t answer his question, Eddie pinches your teat a little harder. You inhale sharply as a painful mewl escapes your lips. “Gotta use your words, doll. Quit testing my patience.”

“F-feel really good, Eddie.” You whimper out.

He caresses your cheek, his thumb brushing against your cheekbone. “See? That wasn’t so hard. Good girl.” He kisses your forehead softly, he pulls back to look at you. This behavior was unlike him, and it was as if he couldn’t help himself. What the hell was happening?

Deciding he’s getting too close to you, he guides you back to the bed. “Get on your knees, face down, doll.” His voice was rough, a lot less affectionate than it was just a moment ago.

As he watches you do as your told, he finally releases his aching cock from its denim prison. Groaning in satisfaction at the relief from it springing forward and at the sight of your perfectly rounded ass. His jeans pool at his feet and he kicks them off to the side, he walks over to you. Immediately his hands are roaming over your plump curves, cursing under his breath as he admires you. “So fuckin’ perfect, sweet girl.”

Eddie’s cock bobs up and back down as it twitches from his arousal, the tip of it shining with his pre-cum. He can’t remember the last time he was so excited to sink his cock into a girl. Sure, he wanted to get his rocks off. But here lately, it took everything in him just to stay hard most of the time because he was bored. For the first time in a long time, he was worried he would have to focus too hard on not cumming until you do.

A wicked grin forms on his face as he remembers something. “Almost forgot, birthday girl.” His hand slaps against the meat of your ass, but you don’t yelp — you moan for him. He groans as he squeezes your ass. A perfect pink handprint already etched into your tender skin. “Mm, birthday girl likes being spanked?” His hand clashes against your opposite cheek, another moan as you fist the bed sheets. Your aching core throbbing for him from the pain, he growls softly.

Aligning himself at your soaked entrance, he hears the little gasp that you try to muffle into the mattress when you feel his thickness. A grin forms on his face as he rubs your tender ass cheek. “Issokay babygirl, I’ll be real gentle at first. Just tell me if it hurts. Okay?” When you nod your head, he slowly begins sinking into your slick heat. Rocking his hips back and forth to slowly work his length in. Eddie lets out a low moan as he feels your pussy practically sucking him in and gripping him tight.

“F-fuck,” he groans. “So fucking tight. Taking my cock like such a good girl.” His hand smacks your tender cheek harder than before and he feels you tighten around him, Eddie grips your hips tightly. “S-shitshitshit, don’t do that baby girl. Want you to cum first.”

Eddie begins to piston his hips against your plump ass cheeks, the skin snapping as he collides with you. Going slowly at first so that he doesn’t lose his control, but then when you start making those pretty fucking noises — he almost loses it. He pulls out before slowly sliding back in, bottoming out each time he does so. The room is a symphony of both of your moans, Eddie’s grunts, and your whimpers.

His hand hooks around your waist, his fingers rubbing firm circles around your swollen clit, causing you to throb around Eddie’s aching cock. He moans softly as he continues to pump into you. “Mmf, that’s it sweetheart. Want you to cum on my cock. Let go, I got you…”

Feeling you get closer, he begins to thrust into you harder and faster. Chasing both of your highs as he continues to circle your clit with the pad of his calloused finger. His other hand is grips your hip tightly as he pulls you back to meet his thrusts. Eddie can see your face turned to the side, your eyes closed in pleasure, mouth hanging open as you whimper and moan for him. Knuckles white as you grip the sheets tightly.

Your body begins to quake, causing him to thrust faster. He can feel your pussy throbbing as your release squirts out all around his cock, soaking his pelvis and the hotel sheets below you. Eddie groans loudly as he can’t hold back anymore. With a final hard thrust, his cock pulses, his thick cum shoots out, covering your walls and filling you up. Eddie slowly thrusts into you, milking his cock as you both chase the highs and let it subside.

Your bodies are sweat slick and covered in both of your juices, Eddie tries to catch his breath as he slowly pulls his softening cock out of you. His eyes widen in surprise when he realizes that he forgot to put a condom on in all of his excitement.

“Shit…” he mutters under his breath. His grip on your hips tighten as he realizes his mistake. “Stay put.” He mutters before he retreats to the bathroom, grabbing a warm, wet wash cloth. He tries his best to clean you up, cursing himself internally for being so careless.

Finally, you slump over onto the bed, exhausted and fucked out. Your eyes even more glazed over than before, a dumb grin still on your face. Eddie crawls over next to you, pulling you into his arms. His anger with himself for being so stupid melting away when he sees the smile on your face.

He sighs heavily, brushing your hair out of your face with his fingers. His voice is soft as he talks to you. “Sorry.”

You raise your head, your eyebrows knit it confusion. “For what?”

Eddie rubs the back of his neck. “I fucking forgot to put on a condom. And you’re so goddamned tight…I didn’t have time to pull out.” He muttered, his freckled cheeks turning pink.

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You hear the words, but they don’t register right away. Call it…shock. Your eyes widen and you blink it away. “What?”

Eddie’s palm drags down his face, he doesn’t say anything so that he can let the information sink in. “Eddie, seriously? You forgot to put a condom on?”

He uncovers his face, his eyes dark — worry lines already forming under them. “Don’t you think I know how stupid it was?”

His harsh tone stings, a lump forming in your throat. Sitting up, you stare at him bewildered that he’s taking this out on you. “Don’t take it out on me. It’s not like I’m the one that had any control over the matter.” Your eyes were welling up with tears, unable to control your feelings when you were upset was something you always hated yourself for.

Immediately, Eddie’s face softens and he sits up. Cradling your head between his palms as he kisses your forehead gingerly. “I know, I’m sorry.”

Confusion sets in as he apologizes and becomes so gentle with you. “I-If you’re worried that I would run and sell my story to the tabloids, o-or try to exploit you for money for a baby that may or may not come about...you’re wrong. I would never…” your voice trails off, tears streaming down your face.

Eddie pulls you down into a warm embrace, letting you cry on his chest. His fingers raking through your long hair as he tries to comfort you. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t trying to imply that. But please also see it from my point of view, Y/N.”

Yuck. He stopped using the pet names that you loved, and suddenly his lips saying your name left a sour taste in your mouth.

Internally, you were trying to prepare for the world of hurt that was about to be bestowed on you once you inevitably had to leave. Imagining that his lawyer would contact you down the line, or maybe even he’d have you sent home with a morning after pill so that he doesn’t have to deal with the future consequences. Silently cursing yourself for letting yourself fall for him, maybe he was the asshole like everyone said. How many girls went through exactly what you were feeling right now?

His arms squeezed tighter around you, his lips pressed into your hair. “Hey,” he says softly. “Stop overthinking. We will deal with whatever happens, together. Promise.”

Your heart flutters, his words seem genuine but you’re not entirely convinced. “Eddie…” you start. But then you’re rudely interrupted by a loud knocking on the suite door. Eddie groans softly, finding a pair of boxers and slipping them on before he goes to answer it.

Laying there in his bed and trying not to listen to what’s being said, scared of what he could be saying. You hear what sounds like Tommy’s muffled voice, him and Eddie getting into a pretty heated whispering match. And then all the sudden there’s a crash of commotion.

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When Eddie opened the door, Tommy was expecting you to be with him so that he could send you home in a taxi. A grave look on Eddie’s face concerns him. “Not done yet, boss? I can come back in an hour…”

“She’s staying the night.” Eddie calmly says.

Tommy’s eyebrow quirks up. “The night? Eddie, are you insane? What are you even thinking?”

Eddie sets his jaw, his eyebrows furrowed. “Listen, I don’t pay you to fucking lecture me.”

“You’re right, you don’t. But the girl is fucking bad news.” Eddie’s jaw clenches, but Tommy continues anyways. “She could stalk you, get too attached, try to exploit you by poking a hole in a fucking condom. Use your damn head, Eddie.”

That’s when Eddie’s fist collides with Tommy’s jaw. He knocks him down, he looks up at Eddie confused. “What the hell has gotten into you man?” No longer whispering, he’s angry. “It’s just a fucking chick! No different than the last thousand you do this to.”

Eddie stood over Tommy, he was a life long friend of his. But in this moment, it didn’t matter — he was seeing red. His jaw was clenched so tight that his teeth ground together, his finger was shoved into his face. “Say another goddamn thing about her, and you’re fired. She is nothing like any of them. So, get used to fucking seeing her. Now get your ass up, and leave me the hell alone until tomorrow morning.”

With that, Eddie leaves him on the floor, slamming the door shut as he stalks off back to the bedroom. His anger melting the second his eyes land back on you, you’re covered by the bed sheets — wide eyed and likely frightened by the commotion. The corners of his mouth turn up into a smile to disarm you.

“What happened?” A look of concern flashes on your face as you noticed his already bruised knuckles.

“Oh this? Nothing. Had to put Tommy in his place.” He waves it off and crawls back into bed, wrapping you into his arms. There’s a slight nervous stutter in his voice as he practically whispers to you. “S-so, I’m not good at this. At all. This isn’t normal for me. Can’t honestly say I’ve ever had an actual relationship, per se. And before you start , no this isn’t because I fucked up and didn’t use a rubber.”

His fingers are raking through your hair as he delicately talks to you, letting out a shaky sigh as he looks up at the ceiling. “From the moment my eyes landed on you, every one of my nerve endings has been…electric. I knew there was something different about you. Something I’ve never had before. And I’ve gotta say, doll, I’ve never felt this way. I’m not saying we have to jump into something and label it…but I would love to get to know you better. Take you on some dates. And if you’d do me the honor, I’d love to make you mine.”

Eddie could feel that his cheeks were on fire, if his hair wasn’t covering his ears, he was sure the tips of them would likely be a deep red. That’s when he felt your soft hand rest on his cheek and pull it back towards you. He saw the emotion welling in your waterline, his thumb brushed back and forth along your chin as he stared into those beautiful ocean pooled irises.

“I would like nothing more, Eddie.” Your smile was soft, warm — it made his heart melt.

There was a brief moment of silence before Eddie continued. “My mom always played music for me as a child, and the songs always had these beautiful depictions of love. She tried her best to describe it to me, but I was just a kid, ya know? But I think it’s all starting to make sense…” he whispered to you as his thumb brushed along your kiss-bitten lip.

With that, Eddie pulled your chin up to meet his lips with a soft kiss. Neither of you were perfect, you weren’t trying to be. But Eddie knew right then and there that he would do anything in his power to spend the rest of his life by your side. For the first time in his life, he felt confident that someone else would do the same.

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

“You're a dream come true

Now I'm holding you

And I'll never, never let you go

I will never let you go!”

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

WIBTA if I found out which shop is selling cigs/nicotine to teens in my area and reported them?

Both my younger siblings are addicted to nicotine. They're teens nd not old enough to legally buy nic, but I found out some local store sells to minors. They wouldn't tell me which one.

I also have teenage coworkers who are addicted, and they're even younger. One of them is 16. I suspect they're buying from the same place.

I don't want to potentially ruin anyone's livelihood, but these kids are killing themselves with cigarettes and vapes. One of my siblings has persistent respiratory issues but will not stop vaping. I'm scared for them.

What are these acronyms?

[munson-blurbs]

Hi Bug <3

Here’s my Tropes-or-Treat request😁

M&Ms, Butterfinger and our dear Eddie of course 🩵 smut would be amazing 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

Friends-to-Lovers/Shy!Reader/Eddie Munson (also requested by @mopeymopeymouse & @lunamoons-things)

Warnings: smut (18+ only, minors DNI), oral (f! receiving), Reader wears a skimpy outfit, insecure Reader, Billy Hargrove is a douche, mentions of drinking, mentions of selling weed

WC: 1.2k

Divider credit to @saradika

“Hey.”

You almost don’t hear him over the sound of music pulsing through the stereo speakers and your own hyperfocus on the drink in your hand. Whatever’s in this jungle juice is strong, but not enough to loosen you up, it seems.

When you look up and see him, concern furrowing his brows, you only offer a weak smile and a soft, “hi.”

“What are you doing out here by yourself?” Eddie asks, leaning next to you, forearms pressed to the patio banister. “Hargrove’s inside.”

You wince at the mention of your boyfriend. “He’s mad at me,” you admit quietly, taking another swig from your Solo cup. Billy’s chastising words echo in your mind: no fucking fun, why can’t you be like the other girls? He was the reason you were wearing this ridiculous outfit–which was basically glorified lingerie poorly disguised as a witch costume. You feel uncomfortable and out of sorts, but Billy had insisted that you wear it, saying that he didn’t want to be the only guy at the party with a prude girlfriend.

He hadn’t noticed you before you’d started tutoring his stepsister, Max, but when he did start paying attention to you, he was a bloodhound. And after a month of secretly dating, he was finally ready to show you off.

Except…

Except the you he wanted people to see was just a facade. He didn’t want the introverted girl who preferred the company of her books and a small group of friends; he wanted someone he could dress up and parade around like a trophy. You were something he’d conquered, not someone he loved.

Eddie doesn’t ask for details; he just shrugs off his denim jacket and rests it over your bare shoulders. “I’m done selling for the night,” he reports, drumming his fingers on the tin box he uses to transport his stash. “You wanna head back to the trailer? Watch a movie and shoot the shit?”

You can’t agree fast enough, scrambling to your feet and climbing in his van. Things have been a bit strained between you two since you got with Billy, but the beauty of being Eddie’s friend is that you fall back into your usual routine without having to try. 

The ride to Forest Hills is fast, especially with Eddie driving like a madman. You both plop onto the couch, Eddie reaching for an open bag of pretzels on the side table and offering you some before taking a handful. 

“I’m so glad you’re done with that asshole,” he says with a mouthful of the snack. “No fuckin’ clue what you saw in him.” When you don’t respond, refusing to meet his gaze, he sighs. “Nope, no way. Do not tell me—”

“What other choice do I have?” you rebut. 

Eddie rolls his eyes, throwing his hands up in defeat. “You could be with someone who doesn’t treat you like crap!”

“Oh, yes,” you scoff, “let me just call one of my many suitors.” Making a big show of standing and traipsing over to where their phone hangs on the wall, you pick up the receiver with feigned exuberance. “That’s right—no one else wants me!” You slam the phone down and cross your arms over your chest. 

“Bullshit!” Eddie bellows, tossing the pretzel bag onto the couch and stomping towards you. “That’s bullshit, and you know it.”

“Then who—”

You don’t finish your sentence before his lips collide with yours; his hands on your hips pressing you up against the wall. You can taste the lingering cigarette smoke on his tongue; he drinks in whatever vodka-based concoction is on yours. 

He breaks away abruptly, mouth agape in disbelief. “I’m sorry; I shouldn’t have done that.”

“‘S okay,” you mumble. “Wasn’t half bad for a pity kiss.”

“A pity—no, that wasn’t pity. That was an, ‘I’ve been wanting to do this forever’ kiss.” His fingertips brush against yours. “Let me take care of you,” he murmurs, and when you nod, he leads you to his bedroom. He waits for you to lay on the bed before climbing on top of you, knee nudged between your legs and head nestled into the crook of your neck. His fingers dip below your lace panties, and you freeze up at his touch. “We, um, we don’t have to do this,” he says hurriedly. “Just say the word.”

But you do want this; no, you need this. You need him to show you what true passion looks like, not whatever feigned version Billy had offered. As soon as you give Eddie a breathless, enthusiastic yes, he’s tugging your tiny skirt and lace panties down your legs. The cool air barely hits your pussy before his lips are on it, tongue licking up the center before finding your clit. 

A whine catches in your throat, releasing as a pathetic whimper. You’re so sensitive, so starved for touch. You’ve become acclimated to the way Billy grabs at you, pawing at your ass or breasts as a means to take what he wants, leaving you feeling used and unsatisfied. 

Eddie’s touch is vastly different. Yes, it’s fueled by sexual desire, but it’s too attentive to just be lust. You prop yourself on your elbows and watch him, doe eyes looking up at you to gauge your reaction. “Keep going,” you sigh, flopping back down on the bed, and you can feel his soft laugh on your core. 

He works meticulously, holding a steady pace as you writhe against his face. Your hands grasp the bedsheets in your fists, nearly yanking them off of the mattress as he slides a finger inside you while continuing to lightly suck on your bud. 

A second finger joins the first, pulsing in and out of you eagerly but not frantically. The combination of him filling you up and the way he so desperately craves pleasing you has you hurtling you towards orgasm. Instinctively, you press your lips together to muffle your moans, but Eddie’s having none of that.

“Wanna hear your pretty noises. Pretty noises from my pretty girl,” he says quickly, wasting no time eagerly returning to the task at hand.

“Eddie, Eddie, I’m coming!” you cry out, arching your back as you finish. Eddie brings you down from your euphoric state with a few more kitten licks to your pussy, wiping your slick from his mouth and chin as he climbs up your body and kisses you deeply.

You run your fingers through his hair before it occurs to you: “I can return the favor.” Heat rises to your cheeks; how could you be so selfish and forget about him?

But a shake of his head and a bashful chuckle immediately quell your nerves. “‘S, uh, already taken care of.” And though his denim jeans are black, you can still spot the wet stain pooled at the seam. 

Needless to say, the thought of returning to Billy Hargrove doesn’t even cross your mind.

--

[deathnguts]

@bartylusmicrofic

Prompt 5: joint

(Sorry this is late)

CW: minors doing and selling drugs (just weed, which was not legal in Scotland in the 70s, but cmon it’s just weed), brief mention of domestic abuse (just a joke about Barty’s shitty dad)

-

Barty never really cared about the stigma surrounding non-muggleborn wizards being involved with muggle shit. If muggles made something he wanted, he’d take it. Who the fuck cared who made it? He smoked muggle cigarettes, lit them with muggle lighters, listened to muggle music, and dressed like a muggle punk. Who was gonna stop him?

But what he hadn’t done (yet) was muggle drugs. He honestly hadn’t even thought about it until he found out that the hufflepuff Evan liked so much was selling muggle shit.

So Barty, being the open minded connoisseur that he is, bothered Evan to get him some until he got annoyed enough to do it.

Barty was waiting on his bed, staring at the ceiling. He decided he regretted not going with Evan because having nothing to do but wait was so much worse than having to witness Evan flirt with a guy who probably didn’t even know boys could kiss other boys. But he didn’t have to wait much longer after that thought before Evan strolled into the room and threw a small bag, filled with something that looked like moss, onto his chest with a little too much force to be friendly.

“Woah, no need to get violent, Rosie.” Barty whined as he sat up, watching the little bag slide down into his lap.

Evan scoffed and rolled his eyes, “you can take being beat by your dad, you can take a bag of grass.”

Judging by how sunny Evan was being, Barty figured the flirting had gone very well. But Evan had bought him drugs so he would be quiet today. How sweet of a friend he was.

“Where’s Reg?” Evan asked over his shoulder as he flopped on his back onto Regulus’ empty bed.

“Where do you think?” Barty answered with his own eye roll as he opened the little bag. Regulus could be found in one of two places during his entire stay at Hogwarts, and that was the dorm and the library. It was a little different now that he had prefect duties, but not really.

A smell that Barty had never smelled anything like before wafted from the bag and he had to resist the urge to cough with how it settled in his throat. He’d smoked before, he shouldn’t cough over a sniff of… whatever this was.

“You don’t snort it, idiot.” Evan called.

“I wasn’t, idiot.”

“Well then what were you gonna do, idiot?”

Barty decided to be quiet then, on his own volition and not at all because he couldn’t answer.

Evan chuckled like the bastard he was and rolled over on his stomach to face Barty. “Alright, gimme the bag and a book you don’t care about.”

“… what the fuck did you two do?” Regulus grumbled, tucking his nose under his sleeve to hide it from the offending scent choking up their dorm.

Barty, honest to Circe, could not find it in his muddled brain to answer.

“Just some down time, Reg,” Evan answered for him. He seemed to be handling the smoke a lot better than Barty, considering he could talk all and good despite currently smoking even more than Barty had.

Barty watched Regulus sigh and drop his bag at the foot of his bed, next to Evan’s feet. “You’re on my bed.”

“Uh-huh.” Evan hummed as he took another drag.

“Move, you high bastard.”

“Go lay with Barty. Look how lonely he is.” And then they were both looking over at him and he couldn’t control his face enough to stop staring back. Had he actually blinked in a while? Now that he was thinking about it, he didn’t think so… woah.

“How much did you give him?” Regulus asked as he slipped his fingers into Barty’s hair. When had he gotten close enough to do that? Meh, whatever. Barty wasn’t gonna complain, so he just leaned into the welcome touch. Barty couldn’t help the smile that painted on his face when he nuzzled into Regulus’ hand. He didn’t remember closing his eyes but he was vaguely aware that the only sense that was working was his sense of touch. And hearing. Kind of. Was he underwater?

“I didn’t feed it to him by the spoonful, Reg. He took what he wanted.”

“And that’s unusual?”

“See? You’re catching up.”

“Shut up.”

Barty frowned when Regulus’ hand suddenly disappeared from his hair. Where was he going?

Regulus was chuckling, “oh, calm down.” He grumbled in his own, loving, way “Merlin, don’t pout.”

Regulus’ hand was cupping Barty’s chin and his thumb was running over Barty’s lip ring. If he was pouting before, he certainly wasn’t now.

“He’s on another plane right now, Reggie.” Evan muttered as he took yet another hit.

“You’re on the way.”

“Here’s to hoping.”

There was some shuffling on the bed and when Barty opened his eyes his head was propped onto Regulus’ lap like the world’s greatest pillow. His delicate fingers were combing back through Barty’s hair but Barty wasn’t focused on that anymore. How could he be focused on anything else when he was looking up at his beautiful boyfriend’s beautiful face? Regulus was still talking to Evan but Barty couldn’t hear them. Regulus was so beautiful.

His lips were pink and perfect and Barty knew they were soft. He liked watching them move when he talked. His nose was arched like a Greek god and Barty would offer as many hecatombs as he could if Regulus asked. He had a million moles dotting his milky skin like his own inverse galaxy. BARTY didn’t care much about astrology, but he would if it was about this sky. His eyes were a cold, icy gray that swam with the softest blue. Barty wasn’t an empty headed, drooling flirt or anything, but he could honestly stare into Regulus’ eyes forever and be completely content until he dropped dead and blind. In fact…

He sat up and nudged Regulus to lay back so he could rest his chin on Regulus’ chest and get a better look.

“Oh Salazar.” Piped up Evan with a rumbling laugh deep from his chest. But Barty wasn’t listening because Regulus was laughing too and Barty felt his heart singing in his chest.

“Barty, what-“ he was interrupted by his own giggles. “What are you doing?”

Regulus’ smile was wonderful. The real one. The tight, knowing one that he showed everyone outside his four walls was certainly hot, but he beloved the real thing more. It was private, just for him and those close to his heart, and it was perfect. It bled flush into his cheeks and spread his perfect lips enough that he actually showed his teeth. He was always so careful to hide his teeth, just because he viewed the gap he had between them as unsavory. He thought they were to be hidden. He thought a lot of himself was to be hidden.

Well, more for Barty.

“Looking at you.” He answered far too late with a smile he knew was far too dopey.

Regulus’ laughter continued to shake through his chest while Barty continued to gaze at his beauty like a lovesick puppy. It was nice staring at Regulus when his head was all fuzzy. It felt like Regulus was the only thing he could see.

He liked that. He liked that a lot.

[helluva-simper]

Drugs

Word count: 1k

TW!: drug use, 18+, suggestive content, cussing, violence. Minors DNI

              Valentino walked into his penthouse, the main color of the room being a red and dark pink with an occasional blue and purple. He sits on the couch turning on the TV. He leaned towards the table to grab the cigarette box but when he opened it, nothing was in it. “Voxxy!? Where did I put my extra cigarettes?!” 

Valentino gets up and looks around the living room as Vox yells, “I don’t Fucking know! You probably used them all since you smoke them like there’s no tomorrow!” Valentino audibly groans. 

Vox walks into the room and laughs at Valentino’s look of despair. “You look so stupid, Val. Can’t you just smoke something else to control the bitches.” He asked, carrying his “fuck Alastor cup.” in a blue robe. “I could but those are my favorite.” Valentino whines as Vox sighs. “So… Voxxy baby~... can you do me a favor and watch over the club while I’m gone.” “No. I’m incredibly too busy to deal with your bullshit.” Vox said.

“Come on~. I’ll pay you back. And I promise you won’t regret it.” Valentino said, running his fingers down the side of Vox's TV screen. Vox groans as he pushes his hands away. “Val, I said-” “You don’t even have to stay long. Just need you to make sure everything is going smoothly.” Valentino says grabbing his phone about to call someone to pick him up already knowing that he has won. “Ugh, fine.” Vox walks away drinking whatever was in his cup. Valentino was off to see you.

You were a bee demon that went by the name of ‘Hunne’. You were a popular and wealthy demon by selling a product called “Honey buns” since it was originally supposed to be in food but… eh… you just thought that drugs would be better. It was a drug that could make you feel like you could fly or make you feel completely relaxed depending on how much you take. It was in all forms: pills, powder, cigarettes, and that was why Valentino was taking the time out of his day to drive to the other side of Hell.

He walks in to see you smoking your own stuff. “Hunne, baby, how ya been?” Valentino said walking to the counter almost scrunching his nose at how strong the smell of smoke was near you. “Tino, haven’t seen you in a hot minute. Ran out of my stuff?” You asked, putting your cigarette in the ashtray in front of you. 

You had black and yellow stripes all over your skin, your hair was messy and was covering your face barely able to see through your hair to see your fully black eyes. You were quite skinny and frail with boney fingers that had long, black nails. When you spoke, you would make a buzzing noise.

“Sadly so, but I also came to see my favorite stoner.” Valentino said, having a toothy grin resting his upper left arm on the table. “Of course, Tino. Now…” You stretch out your thin arm and open your hand. He digs inside his robe and pulls out his wallet giving you the money. You smile, taking it and putting it in a lock box behind you. 

As you bend down, Valentino wolf whistles looking up and down at your body. Even though you were very scrawny, Valentino found it very interesting. How easy it would be to dominate you, break you. But if he wasn’t your best customer, you would have shot him with the gun you had in the box as well. So, you just let him wish.

“You know, you would make a wonderful assistant~.” Valentino suggested with a smug look. You stood up and grabbed a vial from inside a cabinet as you said, “Maybe in the next Hell.”

Valentino had a specific type of cigarette that he always requested. It had a vibrant red color and had a chemical that, without the right protection, would make anyone other than him incredibly high, that’s why you wore gloves and a mask.

Valentino rolls out his tongue letting his saliva drip into the small tube. When it was full he said, “I would like to see how my little worker bee does their job.” “I prefer for you to stay outside.” You answered walking to the backroom door. As you did, he walked to you. 

He puts his lower arms on your hips and the upper on your shoulders. “Baby, come on~ I won’t touch anything… unless it’s you~.” He purrs in your ear. Since you knew that you were too weak to fight an overlord, you just turned around, dug out his wallet, feeling his bare chest sending chills down his spine, pulled out his wallet, and took out 2 $100 bills.

“You drive a hard bargain, my sweet.” He spoke. “If you don’t take your dick holding hands off me, I will not make your drugs.” You said firmly. Valentino pulls his hands away and holds them up, surrendering. 

When Valentino backed away, you opened the door. The room was almost pitch black with a very dim orange light. A visible black smoke filled the room, making Valentino choke. “Fucking hell! How do you work or even breathe in here?!” Valentino said, waving his hand around. You just shrugged. 

The same way a bee collects pollen, your hair always had pollen in it, the only difference was that you didn’t need to taste good. You always being in an enclosed room while smoking tainted the pollen being the main ingredient. When it’s mixed with Valentino’s saliva well… you’ll be so high you might attempt to fly off the Vee’s tower.

You walk to a giant mixing machine and put the two ingredients in it.  You put the time for 3 ½ minutes and started it.  As it mixed you walked over to a table and grabbed the lighter and cigarette from it then lit the cigarette. Valentino watched your every move with a growing idea. 

Valentino walks to you taking the cigarette out of your hand. “What the fuck man?!” You exclaimed, reaching for it but you were too weak to move the hand that was pushing you back. He wrapped his hand around your chin and pulled your face to his. He took a drag, pulled down your mask, and blew it in your face. Being the addict you were, you instantly inhale the smoke. “Give… give it back.” You muttered trying to pull away but he didn’t let go. 

“So, Hunne, baby~. May I know why you have to wear all this protection?” Valentino asked. He didn't really didn't need to though since he already knew. You had told him the first few months he started requesting his special drug. He just want to hear your own voice say it.

            You stayed silent, not replying to his question trying to step away but used his lower arms to keep you in place. Valentino tales another drag watching you breathe it in like you needed it, like it was oxygen.

             “Come on, baby~. I just need you to say a sentence or two. Can be too hard, right?” He spoke backing you up into the wall. You were terrifide. Yeah, you being his favorite drug dealer let you know that he wasn't gonna kill you… somewhat but him towering over you like that was making you feel uncomfortable.

            Before you could tell him to go fuck himself, he pushed himself against you and moved your chin up allowing him to unravel his tongue around your neck. Your breathing stopped.

            What was this smell? God, it was intoxicating making your vision blur. You felt like you had just stopped thinking. Valentino could see the break on your face. He kissed you and you didn't fight back, didn't even think about it (as if you could). He sild his tongue inside, exploring, making the effects of the chemical worse.

            Valentino, his voice deep and breathy, whispered in your ear, “Perhaps the drugs can wait… can't they?” The only response he got was incoherent noises which made him smirk. “Till then, just be a good little “Hunne” bee and let Daddy do what he does best.”

After reading all this comment "WNTBT" (We need therapy big time) in the comments and I'll be paying for your therapy

Tag

@rerarlo

@kadegravy -my fav Stoner

[judesmoonbeauty]

In Response to: Jude’s Height Ask

Since I felt the ask maybe spoilerish for some, I'll respond this way, below the cut.

Yeah, I think the malnutrition plays a large part with it.

I also think his living conditions and smoking play a part too. In Roger’s Past Records, Jude says he was in stuffy room filled with fumes and smoke. It could’ve been industrial smoke or cigarette smoke, but either way it's not good for a child's development.

Also, if Jude smoked as a minor, then he probably contributed to that stunt growth. This is totally possible because it wasn't until the Children Act 1908 (which prohibited the selling of tobacco products to those under 16 years old) was enacted. I mean, he could've waited until he was older than 16 to smoke, but I’m just saying.

….Although, average to shorter height may just run in his family. Still, I agree with you, 177 cm isn’t that short. It's average height in my area, and he’s 3 inches taller than me.

Thanks for the ask, @yuoi-the-magnificent