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wordynerdygurl · 2 years ago

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Someone to Watch Over Me

Part 1: “Love is Blind”

Author’s Note: Do you think the Duffer’s realized what they were doing when they brought Eddie Munson to life on paper? I don’t think so. Because it’s been, what, nine or so months now, and I’m still all in on my favorite ne’er do well metal head.

This is my first time with an Original Character standing in for “reader”. Just like with my reader insert fics, our OC is female and plus size. Pairing: Eddie Munson x Plus Size OC Amanda Patterson Summary: It’s love at first sound, pitch perfect and fated, everything in harmony. If only life were a love song.

Amanda and Eddie meet by chance but their connection is real. Some night music and milkshakes maybe all it takes to show that Hawkins’ resident bad boy is worthy of love. The kind of love a misfit like Amanda is ready to give to the right guy. Have they each found the right someone to watch out for them? Warnings: This is a slower burn than my usual, but I think it’ll be worth it. There will be SMUT in additional chapters, but for now, there’s making out, eating a lot of junk food, some size shaming and self doubt. Oh, and a character gets slapped.

“There’s a saying old, says that love is blind”

1990

“So, Eddie, how’s the tour been going?”

Pulling a long strand of dark hair over his cheek, a nervous habit he couldn’t seem to break, Eddie raised his dark eyes to the reporter asking the questions, ignoring the video camera and boom mic hovering overhead. It took everything in him to keep the sarcastic edge in his tone to a minimum, “Well, Chuck, it’s been a helluva time. Me and the boys, we’re just taking what comes. It’s been fuckin’ amazing to see so many cities and of course, our fans.” “Oopsie! Can’t curse like that, Eddie. Can we cut around that?” Chuck was asking some producer, talking over Eddie’s head, ignoring him all in the name of being appropriate for television. Already he was over this whole experience. What Eddie really wanted was to get back to the green room, have a beer or a smoke- scratch that. And a smoke, before having to play tonight’s show.

The conversation around editing was still happening, Eddie’s interview on pause. It gave him a minute to evaluate the man asking the questions. Smarmy, yea, that’s the word Eddie would use for a guy like Chuck. Hair slicked back and suit a little too colorful to be classy, the guy was cheesy as hell, but he was going to film a piece about the band. Something for MTV to use in promos or some shit. Eddie didn’t really care to know. There were people for that now. The same people who kept assuring him that there was no such thing as bad publicity. Not when there was a nationwide tour that needed to sell tickets and t-shirts and records, so he bit his tongue and smiled sheepishly, waiting for the next question. “We rolling? Great. Ok, ready Eddie?” Nodding in answer, Eddie gave him the green light. The interviewer tapped his finger against the skinny microphone in his hand, picking up seamlessly from where they had stopped earlier, “That’s good to hear. Now, Corroded Coffin plays specifically metal but who has influenced your musical journey? Which artists do you listen to?” Blowing out an exhale, his lips parting, Eddie thought for a minute. “Ya know, all the greats Chuck. I mean, I cut my teeth on Led Zeppelin. Heart, Black Sabbath, obviously-” he rolled his eyes for emphasis, “-Iron Maiden and Metallica. You play metal music and I’m there, man.” Chuck nodded along, agreeing with everything coming out of Eddie’s mouth, trying way too hard to seem interested. He seemed more like a Madonna kinda guy, too caught up in the look of something to worry about its substance. It grated on Eddie’s nerves, set his teeth on edge. “Gotcha. So, the people want to know-” Chuck drug out the question, clearly enjoying the way he baited his interviewee, “-What is Eddie Munson’s favorite song?” Toffee colored eyes widened. Despite the movement around him, the roadies hauling in speakers and gear, the conversations between stage crew and security guards, the clicking of boot heels on parquet flooring, Eddie could hear it. His favorite song. Clear and distinct, the memory a perfectly preserved bubble of sight and sound. From over his shoulder someone coughed, bringing Eddie back to the here and now. “Uh, sorry. Didn’t mean to zone out there.” “Don’t worry, we’ll edit it out.” Chuck’s hand made a motion urging him to continue. Eddie’s ring laden right hand rubbed across the skin on the back of his neck, internally debating just how real to be with his response. In the end, Eddie told the whole truth. He spilled one of his deeply held secrets to a douche bag with gelled back hair and a smile that was too much teeth. Looking directly into the bubbled lens of the video camera, Eddie offered up a reluctant, almost embarrassed smile, “My favorite song? That’s a great question, man. And, uh, ya know, I wanna say something hard rocking and fast. But honestly? Someone to Watch Over Me by the Gershwin brothers.” Eddie’s voice was practically a whisper at his admission. He was ready for a ribbing. A hard rocker like him, known for bad boy behavior and leaving a lady behind in every city? No way Eddie Munson could possibly be a romantic at heart, right? Fully expecting a laugh from smarmy Chuck, some jab about the softness of his choice, or a comment on it being a standard, something old fashioned or behind the times. But Eddie only heard the insipid agreement of the interviewer, “Great song. A classic.” “Yea. It is.”

—

1987

It had always come naturally to Amanda. She opened her mouth and the sound just came out, warm and round, with the right amount of inflection and sweetness of tone. Singing was what she did. From the time she could talk, Amanda was making music, using her body as the instrument. Church choir taught her how to sight read sheet music, her voice moving up and down the scale in time with the half and quarter notes. Learning how to let her high Soprano melt in with the other members of the chorus so that no individual could be heard over another. Discovering the power of dynamics; an effective hushed line that built into a climaxing crescendo, the rush of belting out a powerful note with all of the choir members doing the same. Amanda continued to discover the best ways to utilize her voice, really only ever happy when she was humming or whistling or belting out a tune. One Christmas there was a tawny wooden guitar under the tree. She carried it with her everywhere she could. Teaching herself the chords from a beginner’s guide until she could play “Frosty the Snowman” without stopping. And her unquestionable love of music grew with every new song she memorized until the entire book had faded from overuse. There were high school musicals, of course. Grease, Annie, Guys and Dolls, Anything Goes. And even if she was always the sidekick with no solo, hanging around in the back of the chorus lines, she loved performing. Being on a stage, with the lights and excitement, the tension of anxiety turning into the power needed to propel her through the show. Amanda lived for the thrill of it. Something could go wrong or things could go incredibly right. In either case, you could never truly know which way it would play out until it was happening. Then, the curtain would fall and there would be bows and applause. Amanda loved the spotlight, absolutely and unequivocally. Only, the spotlight didn’t love her back. Her round, full cheeks wouldn’t do to play Sandy. The curvy, womanly figure she’d grown into wouldn’t work for Annie or Pepper or even Mrs. Hannigan. Despite the lovely, lyrical quality to her voice, it wasn’t enough to outweigh her looks. So Amanda sang out loud and long from the back row of the chorus, her robe tight across her ample chest. She learned the simple choreography for musical numbers and was told, “you’re so light on your feet” as if it was shocking to see. Every year was a new chance to gain that place in the middle of the stage, singing for all she was worth for everyone to hear, but never making it due to a healthy appetite which made her soft in the places where people would rather she be firm. It was the bitterest of pills, but she swallowed it, happy just to be involved. Pleased to have her name printed in the program as a participant even if she was living off of the scraps of lesser performers who just so happened to look prettier under the hot stage lamps. She accepted hugs from the pretty boys who tried on singing and dancing as a way to meet girls, but wouldn’t give her a second glance. The boys who saw her as the funny, talented friend of the group. Always happy to drive everyone home, listen to everyone’s troubles, offering sage advice and asking for nothing in return. That was Amanda.

All too soon, school was ending. Over. And college loomed in front of her, full of promise and secret worries.

She knew what she wanted, what she had always wanted. It had never changed despite the wacky directors who hid her behind scaffolding or pushed her to the dim corners of the stage. Amanda was on the earth to do one thing only: make beautiful music. It was, after all, her favorite thing to do. Unfortunately, it was also incredibly difficult to make a career out of, something her parents constantly felt the need to remind her about. They only wanted what was best for her, that’s what they said anyways. And what was best, in the opinion of Mr. and Mrs. Patterson, was a steady job as a hairdresser or nurse or preschool teacher. Anything really to fill the gap until she met “the one”, got married and started having their grandchildren. Too bad Amanda loved the music so much more. It had taken a lot of work, hours and hours of debating and shouting but somehow she had convinced them to let her go to school for music. The catch? She’d also study education. It was a compromise Amanda was willing to make, just to get her foot in the door. Worst case? She’d wind up a music department chair at some high school or another, a great back up plan to her real dream: musical super stardom like Linda Rondstadt or Carol King. Only, school was expensive, especially when you were trying to make music your career. And her parents did as much as they could, which she was incredibly grateful for, but everything cost so damn much. So, almost broke and entirely desperate, Amanda searched around until finding a part time position at The Music Shop. She started selling sheet music and drum sticks, auto tuners and guitar straps from a squat building painted an obnoxious shade of ocean blue that could be seen for miles in any direction. Occasionally there’d be a student in need of some musical mentoring and she’d drag out her acoustic guitar, the tawny one she kept in its cardboard case after all these years. Showing them where to hold their fingers and how to press against the tough strings in order to get a pretty sound out of the instrument brought her a lot of joy. It was still making music and that was enough for her between class work and socializing and generally trying to be a good person. The college classes related to music and music theory were fascinating. Her collection of records and tapes had grown significantly. It seemed as though every new person she talked to had a list of bands she “just had to listen to” and Amanda did. How could she ever thank her roommate’s boyfriend for turning her on to Lou Reed? Did she live before knowing all the words to Pirates of Penzance? How did Whitney Houston sound so incredible all of the time?

Writing a paper on the importance of Tom Petty’s ability to pen pretty lyrics, Amanda found herself surrounded by like minded musical folks. She was invited to parties where everyone sang along to the radio, getting rowdy in the tame way theater kids everywhere are prone to do. Drinking beers was fun. Smoking cigarettes killed her throat through and Amanda refused to damage her instrument with nicotine like that. Besides, she couldn’t afford them anyway. When she wasn’t studying or singing or stocking, Amanda did gig out. Sometime during her first semester she had been approached by Jim, a cellist, Mark, a drummer and Carly, a pianist. Having met the threesome at someone or other’s pre-Thanksgiving break bash, Amanda hadn’t realized it right away but she was casually auditioning for their band. Not once did her size come up. All the three seemed to care about was how quickly they could get her into a rehearsal. They had a jazz trio and wanted someone to vocalize for them, someone with a soft tone, an easy timber that could get them playing in front of bigger crowds. That she blended in with their group dynamic made it an easy fit and soon, the four of them were playing shows together all over the area and regularly too. Now, well into her third year at school, Amanda had a good idea of what her life was going to look like. She would work the store, teaching a couple of private students the ways of the guitar, and sing out with the band on the weekends. If they happened to get a wee bit drunk after a show, who could blame them? After all, they were barely twenty and the world still had so much left to show them. At the music shop, one late September Saturday, Amanda took a minute to hang up the flier for Hawkins’ Autumn Concert Series. Their quartet had been asked to entertain, practicing for weeks now getting the set list perfect for their biggest concert yet. Smiling happily to herself, she gently forced the pushpin into the cork board where the typical announcements of used instruments for sale, lessons for keyboard or piano, and imploring alerts for new band members all co-existed in a colorful, clashing collage. Stepping backwards, Amanda wasn’t entirely paying attention, her mind already drifting to the highlight of the performance. What she was going to wear, how she’d do her hair, all the little details that she liked to get right in an effort to make sure that the show went off without a hitch. That’s how she missed the fellow who was crouched down behind her, ringed hands reaching for the Iron Maiden song book that was propped up on the bottom shelf. Her booted foot hit something solid, something that shouldn’t be in the aisle, and she turned quickly. A blur of black leather and curls flew upwards fast. The joint of her ankle rolled and Amanda reached out blindly, connecting with a solid wall of a person, holding on with a death grip to keep on her feet. Holy shit, did this chick have pretty eyes. It was his first thought and boy, was it a doozy. Eddie could see the shock clearing as worry crept in, crowding around the wide irises, her lips parted in a panicked “o”. Clipped nails clawed into the denim vest he always wore, holding herself upright against the unfair tug of gravity, her forearms pressed tightly to his chest. Bringing a steadying hand to her wrist, he shook his head, shyly smiling, “You alright there? Took a bit of a tumble, didn’t ya?” Inhaling shakily, Amanda nodded dumbly, her heart still thrumming. Still standing much too close to a stranger. She had been certain of falling but having this, this guy break that fall, was disconcerting in an entirely different way. “Oh, I am so sorry! I didn’t see you, and-” “Hey, it’s ok. No harm done, so long as you’re ok. You are ok, right?” There was a brief flash of concern that crossed his face, but it faded when Amanda bobbed her head at his question. She hadn’t moved. Eddie was still looking down at her upturned face, the way her hair fell softly against her cheeks and the sweet sweep of her nose making her look about as precious as he had ever had the pleasure to see. Eddie didn’t want to look away. For another beat they stood there, together, surrounded by score books and tutorial materials while an instrumental version of “Don’t Stop Believing” played through the store speakers. Shifting in his Reeboks, Eddie swayed to the melody and Amanda let herself be carried along with him. In another second, Amanda was certain that she would wrap his arms around her waist and call it a day. Already, Eddie’s free hand was sliding towards her shoulder, another point of contact with this unknown, but very cute, man. “Yo! Amanda? Are you-” Kyle’s voice cut through the force field around the pair. At the sound of her manager’s shout she panic jumped back far enough to thud against the very cork board which held her proudly hung announcement, knocking the air out of her lungs with a grunted, “Oof!” “Jesus! What are you doing?”

Amanda’s eyes went wide at Kyle’s intrusion, and she pressed a hand to her chest to stop her startled heart from bursting free from the unused adrenaline, “Me? Kyle, you scared the crap out of me!” Eddie’s head had snapped towards the interruption before pivoting back to the pretty lady he now knew was called Amanda. His hand reached for hers reflexively, to help steady her, the same shy grin tugging at his lips. That she took it and held it like a lifeline sent a zig-zag of energy from his fingertips straight to the muscles of his tummy which tightened at the contact. One of Kyle’s eyebrows shot skyward, his face skeptical, “What’s going on over here, anyway?” He asked as if he already knew the answer, questioning eyes full of judgment. Amanda’s mouth opened and closed wordlessly. What was going on back here? She didn’t know, really. Luckily, Eddie did. “Uh, your beautiful sales associate was just helping me find this-” holding up the song book with Iron Maiden’s logo splashed across the cover, he continued, “-and uh, then you came around the corner and, ya know, scared her half to death.” “Were you dancing?” Sneaking a quick glance her way, Eddie chuckled, “Dancing? While she’s supposed to be working? Naw man. Like I said, she was helping me out.” His arms crossed over his chest, Kyle stared directly at Amanda, all but demanding her side of the story. Running a palm up her neck, leaning into her hand, she exhaled loudly, “He’s- he’s right, Kyle. I was just giving him, ya know, a hand.” Narrowing his eyes, not believing either of them, Kyle groaned in frustration, “Fine. Whatever. Just, I had a question for you. Ya know, when you’re free?” Nodding, “Sure. Yea, of course. Just um-” she gestured towards Eddie, “-Give me a minute, ok?” “Yea. Ok.” Snorting, Kyle moved back towards the register, leaving Eddie and Amanda alone once more. Blinking those amazing eyes his way, Amanda locked her hands together to keep from touching the broad boy in front of her anymore, “So, thank you. I’m not entirely sure what was going on, but I’m glad I don’t have to explain it to my boss.” “Right. Well, I’m sorry for tripping you up. Covering for you seemed like the least I could do.” Amanda heard the store’s music shift, something by Annie Lennox filling the space, and she took a tentative step away from Eddie causing him to lean forward, “Wait-” “Yea?” Her hair swung over her shoulder, that’s how fast she spun around to face him, her stare open and curious. Nervously, Eddie bit his bottom lip as he rocked on the worn down heels of his sneakers. For the first time in as long as he could remember he was almost unsure of what to say, “Uh, can I see you again?” Amanda didn’t laugh in his face and she didn’t shy away, both reactions he fully expected if he was honest about it. Instead, and to his utter amazement, she reached behind her, yanking down the flier she’d only just hung up, “Absolutely.” And she pushed the paper into his hand before scurrying toward Kyle. Shit. He was in trouble already. Waiting just another couple of minutes, Eddie made his way to the cashier, patiently standing behind a flustered mom and her teenage son. That the kid kept trying to get her to look at the cherry red electric guitar and amp set, already staged for Christmas, wasn’t lost on Eddie. It’s exactly the type of gear he’d lusted after when he was young and eager, before he’d gotten his Sweetheart, and never looked back. Mind wandering, he didn’t hear her at first, “I can help you over here, sir.” Tilting his head towards her voice, Eddie took a shuffling step toward her register, “Ah, thank you, miss.” “No problem.” But it most definitely was a problem, because Amanda couldn’t lift her gaze his way. Not when her body rolled over hot at the memory of his chest under her fingers, his brown eyes peering down at her with sweet desire in their burnt caramel depths. Amanda punched in the code numbers, reading the price sticker and busying herself with recording the sale correctly. “Amanda? What’s the price for the Fender capo?” “Twelve fifty!” It’s automatic and Eddie was astonished at how she kept focused on his sale while answering her colleague from memory. Finally, she raised her face to find Eddie’s smiling one already looking in her direction, and struggling to keep the flush of her embarrassment in control managed to ask, “Is uh, is there anything else today?” “Naw, Amanda. I think this’ll do it.” Giggling, a bit more timid now that she was safe behind the counter, Amanda bagged up the book and relayed the total. Eddie pulled the bills out of his wallet, his chains clinking together musically, as Amanda made change for him quickly and precisely. When he grabbed for the package, his fingers rested over her own for just a heartbeat, “I’ll see you soon then. And uh, thanks for the dance, Amanda.” Stunned, all she could do was stand there, confused at the Dio patched metal head who pushed through the doorway and onto the street. Under her breath, Amanda swore, “Fuck. He knows my name.” —

Eddie didn’t know what he was supposed to wear to an outdoor concert in Hawkins Memorial Park at the beginning of October. Was it a jacket and tie sort of situation? Were jeans enough? Was he going to stick out like a sore thumb if he was wearing a Metallica t-shirt? All of these questions and more burned through the bong ripped brain of Eddie Munson. Pacing in front of his mirror, he fluffed his hair with his fingers, fidgety and fussing. “Dude. You’re fine. What’s the big deal anyway?” Fixing Dustin with a stare that would wither lesser beings, Eddie folded down the collar of his red checkered flannel shirt, “The big deal? I’ll tell you, Henderson. The big deal is-” grabbing for his well used bottle of Aqua Velva and splashing a few shakes into his hands, “-I don’t wanna look like a jerk. I want to blend in. Just uh, enjoy some new music, and a nice night.” “Psst. Bullshit. Who’s the chick?” His eyes widened. How could the little butthead know? Eddie hadn’t said a word about the music store beauty and still, somehow, the pipsqueak was calling him out. “What chick? Who said chick? There’s no chick.” “Me thinks thou doth protest too much.” Pausing while he fiddled with the buttons on the sleeves of his shirt, confusion filling his face, Eddie blinked, “Wha?” “It’s Shakespeare. You protest too much ‘cause, ya know, you’re covering up.” Frustrated, Dustin shook his head, closing his eyes as he exhaled heavily, “Nevermind. You’re clearly lying. Tell me about her. Who is she?” Looking over at his youthful friend, Eddie thought about it for a long second. Tell Dustin about Amanda? What was there to tell? Shrugging safely into his shirt, Eddie bought himself some time fiddling with the buttons. “Uh, well. I don’t really know her all that well. We, literally, bumped into each other at the music shop when I was picking up my new bible.” He was now entirely focused on his hair which had decided to go fluffy. Disgusted at what he saw, looking more pampered poodle than suave rocker, Eddie continued to run his hands through the curls as he chatted with his sidekick, “She’s uh-” “Pretty?” Dropping his gaze to the top of his dresser, Eddie’s cheeks colored at the word, “Yea. So cute. And, she seems smart. Funny, ya know?” Nodding, Dustin came up behind his friend, plucking a stray hair from his shoulder, “Sounds pretty damn perfect, man.” “I’m sure there’s a catch. There always is when it comes to women.” Eddie couldn’t help trying to keep his excitement in check. It was better to set his expectations low. Less likely to hurt so bad when someone disappointed him and people always seemed to be disappointing Eddie Munson. Catching his older friend’s eye in the mirror, Dustin offered up a toothless smile, “I don’t know, man. Maybe she’ll surprise you?” —

People were scattered around the park. Some hovered near benches, others sat on blankets and a lucky few used their lawn chairs, dragged from home, all to get a good view of the small stage where the quartet would be performing tonight. It was exciting. Amanda had unpacked her mic and cord, scatting a bit so that the guys could get a level on her voice and ensure a balanced sound through their mixing board. She didn’t really understand all the technicalities, but in the end it helped make sure that they all sounded as good as possible, so Amanda played along. “Testing one, two, three- testing one, two, three. Can y’all hear us out there?” A smattering of claps and one enthusiastic “Woo hoo!” met her question. Carly’s electric piano came next, banging out a couple of chords, before Jim slid his bow across the strings of his bass. Not to be excluded, Mark took a couple of rim shots, making them all laugh. Now all that was left was waiting for the start of the show. Seven o’clock and one of the town’s cultural council staff members used her microphone to blab about why they were hosting this event and to welcome Amanda and the band. The lawn had filled in a bit, more people milling around which was always a good sign, so Amanda took a deep breath before greeting everyone, “Good evening everyone! We’re the Indiana Four and we’re going to play for you tonight. If you like what you hear, there’s a tambourine-” jingling the instrument to get everyone's attention, Amanda added, “-and I’ll leave it right here, in case you wanna put a little something in it!”

It was still too early for a full on sun set, but the sky didn’t know it. Painted in bold streaks of orange that melted into petal pink due to the rays of the sinking sun, it created a warm glow which outlined everything around them with a gilded golden edge. The moon was already a ghostly crescent barely visible in the rainbow tinted ether when Amanda let her voice rise into the oncoming night. Mark counted them in with a broad smile in her direction and Carly’s piano joined the swell of music. The deeper bass notes of Jim’s cello grounded the opening strains of their first song. Amanda gently shut her eyes, letting her body feel every word of the song she was singing, just like she would do at home in her shower or behind the wheel of her tiny car. Unaware of herself and completely at ease, letting her instrument, her voice, blend into the melody the four of them created together. Eddie was never going to get over the sound of her voice. Sweet and soaring, she seemed to change the quality of its tone depending on the song, always leaving him guessing. Which version of this lady was going to sing next? A sultry vixen, heart broken and mournful? The shy ingenue, new to love? A plaintive bard, looking for answers? Or some new character created to enchant him with only the power of her voice? In between songs, Amanda smiled brightly, joking with the people gathered and teasing her band mates playfully. It made the entire concert feel comfortable- easy. Like the folks who came down to see them were in on the funniest joke. All one big, happy family who simply wanted to share music on a random October evening in the middle of Indiana. “Ok everyone, you’ve heard us sing a little of this and a little of that-” wrapping her hands around the microphone, Amanda pulled the silver stick closer, “-but now we’re going to do a favorite of mine, if that’s alright.” At the opening strains from the piano, a couple, older with matching graying hair, stood in front of their chairs and started swaying together, wrapped in each other’s arms. Amanda’s lips spread in a wide smile pointed in their direction as she started, “There’s a saying old, says that love is blind. Still we’re often told, seek and ye will find. So, I’m gonna seek a certain lad I’ve had in mind.” Moving from the lamp post he had been leaning against, no longer content to watch from the shadows, Eddie stepped directly into Amanda’s line of sight. She saw him. How could she miss the leather wrapped, long haired guy who was peering straight into her soul? And she wanted to look away, give someone, anyone else in the assembled listeners, her attention, but Amanda found that she couldn’t.

Had she expected him to be there? Shaking her head for the crowd to see answered her own thoughts. No, Amanda had no idea that the metal loving smooth talker would actually come to seek her out. But, she had thought about it in the small moments between guitar lessons or while driving to her classes in the morning.

So, no. Seeing Eddie stand there, bold as brass with his wide eyed stare and his hands in his pockets was not what Amanda had been expecting. Hoped for, maybe. Wished for, absolutely. Reality though was better than anything her mind might have considered. “Looking everywhere, haven’t found him yet He’s the big affair I cannot forget, Only man I ever think of with regret.” Eddie swallowed hard. The words she was singing wrapped around him on the night’s breeze and held on tight. It was as if they were having a conversation that no one else could decipher, a conversation for only two. “I’d like to add his initials to my monogram, Tell me, where’s the shepherd for this lost lamb?” And she sounded lost. Abandoned. Alone. Exactly like the type of person that Eddie was collecting for Hellfire or the band. A person who needed someone like him to shield them from the big bads in life. A guy who could protect her from the sort of wolves that a shepherd like him knew about all too well. “There’s a somebody I’m longing to see, I hope that he turns out to be Someone to watch over me.”

She was singing just to him. Only Eddie. There was no one else to look at, no one else who could understand or appreciate what the lyrics demanded. “I'm a little lamb who's lost in the wood, I know I could always be good To one who'll watch over me”

Eddie felt his smile slide into place. It wasn’t the wide, dimpled, open grin that showed off his teeth and let you know he was happiest. No, this smile was small, secret. It drew his pretty pink tongue over the plush swell of his lips, something Amanda could see from a distance. Then, just to be coy, his pearly top teeth bit into the pillow cushion of his bottom lip, teasing her from her position on the small stage. Even from this far away, Amanda could see that he had made an effort. A shirt with a collar was buttoned across his chest, all red and black squares that looked soft and broken in. Sure, it was still under his leather jacket, but the denim vest must have been left somewhere safe, because he wasn’t sporting the pins and patches that she remembered from their first encounter. Jeans, dark blue or was it black? She couldn’t really tell, but it didn’t entirely matter. Either way, they fit snugly around his thighs and only sported a single torn knee. The threads stretched across his joint, frayed and begging to be played with. His hair was wild. It fell in waves of dark tendrils, looking to all the world like no care had been taken in its shaping and styling. Amanda stretched the fingers of her right hand, the one not holding her mic, imagining how Eddie’s curls would feel wrapped around her fingers. He saw it all. The way her hand fisted at her side before trailing up the chord of her microphone, tangling the slack in her fingers. How Amanda let every note have its own moment before the next one rose to join it. “Although he may not be the man some girls think of as handsome, To my heart, he carries the key”

Eyes fluttering shut, Amanda took a breathy inhalation as the melody shifted, daring to break the spell by denying herself the sight of Eddie in the crowd. Her heart thumped in time with Mark’s gentle drumming, thick hips swaying without her conscious approval, the crowd around her all but forgotten. Sliding back to the original cadence, the song swelled up and out of Amanda, nearing the end. “Won't you tell him please, to put on some speed, Follow my lead, oh, how I need, Someone to watch over me”

Eddie was transfixed. There was only him and Amanda and her voice and the falling sun burnishing everything rose golden in the fading light. He caught the way her skirt curled happily at her ankles with every shift of her feet. The way her mouth formed around the lyrics. How her chest rose and fell with each expressive stanza. The words repeated: “Won't you tell him please, to put on some speed Follow my lead, oh, how I need Someone to watch over me”

Amanda let her eyes flutter open. Closer now, unavoidable and un-ignorable, Eddie was standing directly in front of her. The final note, held until her lungs burned from want of air, faded into the ether and she winked at him. She couldn’t help it, really. Not when she had somehow managed to carry on as if the most handsome guy Amanda had ever bumped into wasn’t staring straight into her soul as she sang. Not when every note was rich and ripe and reverberated across the people packed plaza even if, presently, she sang solely for an audience of one. Applause. Clapping and whistling came from every corner of the park, jostling Eddie’s attention. From the stage, Amanda giggled at his reaction, but smoothly covered her response, “We are just so grateful that you all came to see us tonight. So-” tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, a shy smile pointed in Eddie’s direction, she continued, “-we’re going to do one more song before we say goodnight.” She didn’t look at Eddie at all this time. Amanda wasn’t even sure she could, not after the intensity of singing, to him, for him. But she could tell he was there all the same, with his elbows bending outward like leather wrapped wings, nervous energy causing him to bounce on his toes in time with the music.

The new melody started and Amanda let it take her away too. This number is lively, the rhythm more rock than jazz, and she gave herself permission to have a little fun, show off a little bit. Still, she actively ignored the one set of eyes that didn’t seem to stray from her own through their final song. Soon enough, it was all over and the Indiana Four began breaking down. A few friendly folks from the audience came up and said kind words. Luckily there were a few dollars in the tambourine and Amanda happily handed the take to Carly, “Not so bad.” “Not bad at all-” But her friend stopped mid sentence, a voice familiar and still foreign cutting through the conversation, “Um, excuse me? Amanda?” Turning around, Amanda was surprised to find Eddie so close that the toes of her boots brushed against his Reeboks. She looked up at him through the curtain of her mascara, “How can I help you?” Now her voice was breathy. Husky. And it made Eddie’s skin prickle hotly. “Uh, I just wanted to tell you- all, tell you all just how much I enjoyed your set.” Only, Eddie never looked past Amanda’s face. Couldn’t really. Not when her wide eyes were staring into his own, their long lashes accentuating her curious gaze, her head tilted in a way that showed sincerity.

His calloused palm rubbed against the back of his neck, nerves getting the better of him the longer that Eddie stood there. It felt like hours. Long, silence filled hours where no one spoke and he dangled from a weak branch of his own social awkwardness. In reality it was only seconds before Amanda giggled like a crushing school girl, dropping her gaze to break the spell she had unwittingly cast, “Well, that’s awfully kind of you…?” Clearly she was prompting him. It was unfair that she was at the disadvantage of not knowing his name when he had learned hers through the forced politeness of the customer service industry. Behind her, Carly snorted as they watched Eddie extend a heavy ringed hand, taking Amanda’s in his own. Raising it high enough to press a chaste kiss to the back, adding a saucy wink for good measure as he answered, “Eddie. I’m Eddie.” “Eddie.” Amanda wasn’t aware that she’d whispered it out loud until her friend was reaching past her, extending her own hand Eddie’s way for a greeting, using her flirty voice to try and charm the very handsome, very out of place guy, “Carly. That’s me. And-” dropping her hand when Eddie failed to take it, Carly laughed ruefully, “-you don’t care.” Carly was absolutely right. Neither one of them paid her any attention because the world as Amanda knew it no longer existed. Not anymore. There was a new sun, a new sky. One with raven curls and plump, pink lips. A center of the galaxy that smelled like Aqua Velva and cinnamon gum and something mossy green. The world had shifted off its axis, tipping her right into the arms of Eddie Munson. For Eddie, well, he had been gone from the second Amanda had tangled herself around him so tightly that she’d almost fallen. But it was amazing to recognize that these feelings he was having were mutual. He got shy then, toeing at the patch of grass in front of her, hands in his pockets while he played at casual, “Wanna get outta here?” Nodding wordlessly, Amanda agreed, only to realize her unspoken intention. “Yea! Uh, yes. Yes. That would be nice.” When Eddie cocked his chin up, the smile on his face was dazzling, “Excellent.”

— She was sure that she told the band where she was going and who she was leaving with, but Amanda couldn’t be certain. It felt like so long ago. An age had passed since she had been standing on the simple stage, singing for all of Hawkins to hear. Since then, the long ago days of the early evening, so much had happened. Eddie had held her hand as he walked her to his van, holding open the door and ensuring that Amanda was tucked safely inside. Boys didn’t do that- not for Amanda Patterson. Not for the chubby girl who still had her baby weight to lose. When he caught her nibbling worriedly at her bottom lip, Eddie asked pointedly, “Everything alright?” “Uh, yea, I just-” “Afraid I’m trying to kidnap you, huh? I get it. Vans do have a-” he waggled his eyebrows suggestively while pressing the tip of his tongue to the center of his top lip, “-certain reputation. But I promise you, Amanda. No funny business.” With one hand over his heart, Eddie extended the other, holding his pinky finger out. She recognized the gesture. Every school aged kid would. “Is that- are you making a pinky promise?”

His cheeks split into a solar powered smile as he nodded, “Oh, yes. Absolutely. And it’s ironclad, since, ya know, we link our little fingers.” Chuckling with her whole body, her shoulders lifted as Amanda agreed by reaching out her own pinky, “Ok, ok. No funny business.”

They wrapped their littlest fingers around the other, huffing out laughs like naughty children. And it did comfort any nagging fears that might have flooded Amanda’s mind because it was so silly. So unexpected. It was also entirely sincere. Roaring to life like a beast roused from slumber, the van started and Eddie shifted into gear, “Are you, by any chance, hungry?”

He was hoping against hope that she was because Eddie wasn’t ready to say goodnight. Not now when he finally had this beautiful songbird buckled into the passenger’s seat, looking at him with those electric eyes. Eyes that kept pulling him in anytime he dared glance Amanda’s way, now fully focused on him and beaming. Normally a question like that would be fully loaded for a young woman very aware of her size and stature, but for the first time and without any hesitation, Amanda answered without reservation, “Starved.”

Exhaling through a grin, Eddie shook his hair off his shoulders, “Then let’s go!” The drive to the diner was filled with chatter. He offered kind words about the band, the concert and her vocals. “You, you’re just incredible. Never heard someone sing like that before.” “Thanks, but truthfully, Carly and Mark and Jim, they make me sound better.” Amanda did that thing where she deflected the words, the attention, to anyone else in order to minimize herself. What she didn’t count on? Eddie’s ability to see right through her. Blowing his bangs off his face, Eddie swiveled to face Amanda, his tone finally serious, “Uh uh. Nope. No way. You’re gonna have to accept that you’re the star of the show, sweetheart.” Then, he leaned over the center console, right into Amanda’s personal space to bump her shoulder with his own, “Please, take the compliment.” Her jaw snapped shut, hands in her lap where Amanda fooled around her with fingernails, fidgeting. She swallowed thickly and bobbed her head, her voice gaining strength. “You’re right. I, uh, I appreciate you saying that.” “No problem at all, hun. I’m only telling the truth.” That’s when she noticed his little finger wiggling her way, “Pinky promise.” — Normally Amanda would frown at the idea of a booth. They tended to be a tight squeeze, embarrassingly so when she’d have to slide across the bench, her supple thighs sticking to the tacky pleather. She desperately did not want to be embarrassed in front of the forthright dude in front of her. But Amanda didn’t need to worry. Eddie, lacing her hand in his, tugged her to the back table, “My usual spot- out of the way and the most comfortable one in the place.” Deep and roomy, the color of jellied cranberry sauce from a can, the cushion was accommodating because of its indeterminate age. She plopped onto the seat with room to spare, more than a little relieved, “Oh yea?” “Yea. I’ve been breaking it in for years.” Cocking her head in a way that made Eddie’s breath hitch, a clever half teasing smile curling one corner of her mouth higher than the other, Amanda joked, “So you bring all your women here, then?” The deep barking laugh that came straight from Eddie’s chest made an elderly gentleman sitting at the countertop turn around with a scowl. “All my women? You make me sound like a lothario.” “Mr. Goodbar? Is that you?” She squinted her eyes, leaning into the bit. “Oh, Mandy, honey. I am nowhere near that good with the ladies.” “I don’t know. You’re doing pretty good with me, so far.” And it was out of her mouth like a runaway rocket. There was no way to pull it back, no way to reign it in. It was there- out in the ether, like a comet bound to crash through the atmosphere. Amanda froze because now she’d done it. She had pointed out her interest, revealed herself as wanting, knowing that any other time she had dared to give voice to her attraction it had always been met with let down and heart ache. The embarrassment boiled through her. God, she had wanted so badly to play it cool. To ensure that Eddie was really into her before making any kind of declaration that couldn’t be passed off as a joke. Stewing, Amanda waited for the inevitable rejection from the man far prettier and sexier than she should ever hope to have for her own. But instead of a dismissive shrug or, worse, a comment about liking her as a ‘just friend’, Amanda got to watch as Eddie’s eyes lit up joyfully. He couldn’t hide it either, apparently, since his smile widened enough to show off a pair of precious dimples, “Yea? Ya think so? That’s- uh, that’s good to hear.” Something about his own reckless enthusiasm caused the flood of worry to ebb away, leaving Amanda filled with a warm, gooey sensation that was not as familiar. Could it be? Was this what mutual attraction felt like? Was this what love songs had been selling for generations and greeting card companies were always trying to find new ways to describe? Was this… love? “Hey lovebirds, what can I get ya?” It is a universal law that wait staff appear at the table when it is least convenient and this interruption by Cheryl ensured that all was right with the cosmos, her tiny pencil poised and ready to write. They had spent no time reading the menu, but Eddie had it memorized cover to cover. Looking at Amanda, he nodded, “So, uh, do you trust me?” Again, her head tilted, appraising this nearly perfect stranger with the gorgeous grin and shaggy hair. “Uh huh, yea. I trust you. Why do you ask?” Licking over his lips, he turned all of his unfiltered attention to their waitress, dialing the charm up to eleven, “Hiya Cheryl!” “Hi yourself, Eddie. What’s it gonna be?” There was a familiarity there that spoke of too many late night coffee cups and slices of pie. It wasn’t friendly, really, but it was warm enough and Eddie’s puppy dog eyes moved the conversation into safer waters. “Hmm… patty melts. Two please, with the curly fries, ok?” A curt nod answered his request, “Yea, and to drink?” He looked at Amanda, that impish twinkle shining bright in his cinnamon dark eyes, “Milkshakes?” “Oh! Yes! Vanilla for me, please.” She beamed at Eddie, excitement at the consideration evident in Amanda’s face. “And I suppose you want chocolate, right Eddie?” Cheryl lifted her gaze from the scribble filled notepad to stare down at Amanda’s dinner companion. Placing his ring covered hand over his chest, Eddie batted his eyes, “You know the way to my heart, Cheryl.” Snorting approvingly at his antics, she jotted down Eddie’s preferred flavor, “All right kids, be right up.” And she wasn’t kidding because before either of them could let the silence grow, two tall and frosty milkshake glasses were being slid across the glittering formica, each topped with a mound of whipped cream and a luscious, over sweet cherry as a crown. A pair of straws were tossed down without much thought and Amanda greedily grabbed one, eager to taste the delectable treat in front of her. “So, tell me about you. What do you- like, what do you do for fun?” Eddie was toying with his straw’s paper wrapper, making small talk and working hard at looking effortless. He hadn’t been out like this, with a girl he was so into, in ages. Maybe ever, really, and he was rusty, more than a little out of practice. Amanda swirled her own straw through the thick vanilla shake in front of her, biting into her bottom lip before replying, “Well, I work. A lot.” “At the Music Shop?” She shrugged, “Yup. But it’s not all restocking sheet music and replacing guitar strings. I teach-” “Like guitar?” Something about the prospect was so exciting. A fellow musician to noodle around with and she just happened to have the voice of an angel? Was this paradise found, or what? Amanda nodded at his eager response, “Yea. Also some keyboard, like, really beginner piano, ya know?” Eddie slurped at his chocolate shake, brain going a mile a minute. Shaking his long hair off his shoulders, nearly gawking, he clicked his tongue before sighing deeply, “It’s not really fair.” Worry filled Amanda’s features. Had she done something wrong? It had all been going so well, maybe too well? “What’s not fair?” Rapping his ringed knuckles against the tabletop before pointing her way, “You. You’re like, too good to be true.” Shy now, Amanda turned away from his kindness, his honeyed praises, and fiddled nervously with the pendant of her necklace. It wasn’t something she had a ton of experience with; flirting and compliments and genuine appreciation. If she was on a stage, under a white hot spotlight, Amanda would know exactly what to say, what to do, but here on the worn out bench seat of a small town diner, Amanda found herself unmoored by all the attention Eddie was sending her way. “Oh, that’s like- I mean, I’m not-” she let her voice trail off, suddenly transfixed by something outside of the plate window. “Hey-” Eddie laid his hand, palm up, on the worn down table, his voice dropping to a whisper. He’d said something to upset Amanda because she had taken those brilliant peepers away and that felt wrong on a primal level. “-Amanda? Did I- uh, shit. Did I do something, ya know, wrong? Shit.” There was something in the defeated sound of Eddie’s expletive that brought her around. She saw his open hand, still laying on the table and cautiously linked her fingers with his. But she still could not meet his questioning look. Twirling one of those big, heavy rings around his large and frankly, distracting fingers, Amanda finally huffed out a lungful of air. “I guess I should like, be honest here and tell you that I’ve never really done this.” She motioned between the pair of them with her unoccupied hand as if that alone would explain her behavior. Eddie squeezed her fingers for a second, a trace of teasing in his tone when he asked, “Had dinner in a shitty diner?” Rolling her eyes skyward, she snorted out a small laugh, “No. Well, kinda? I mean, I haven’t really had a-” she let her eyes lock onto Eddie’s maple brown ones, holding him still, “-a date. I, uh, never really had anyone, ya know, wanna take me out. So, this is new. For me, anyway.” Eddie could see what the admission cost her. The once pleased smile now turned just a little pouty as her bottom lip puckered from the effort of opening herself up. Her chest rose and fell rapidly as if she couldn’t keep the air inside her for too long, but perhaps the most telling was the way that Amanda’s hand clung tightly to Eddie’s. For a long second neither one of them said anything. The kitchen crew could be heard, banging around pots and plates. Another couple in a nearby booth was laughing loudly. The radio was tuned to the oldies station so everyone could listen to Sam Cooke singing about Cupid. And when Amanda realized that Eddie wasn’t going to respond, she sat up, stiffer than before, readying to take her hand with her. But Eddie closed his fist around her fingers, keeping his hold on her and tugging her gently forward, a pained pinch obvious in his voice, “Me either.” “What?” He closed his eyes and swallowed thickly, “I don’t date. Uh, that often.” Popping one eye open, just to see if Amanda was still with him, Eddie continued, “Um, I’ve got a bit of a, well, a reputation. And for some reason, the ladies around here aren’t into that.” Shooting for levity, Eddie hoped to lighten the mood. Moments like this, where he was on display emotionally, where he was open and vulnerable, made him nervous. Anxious. Twitchy. It was fucking scary to be sitting here with this pretty bird and tell her how much of a disaster he really was with no bravado to use as armor. And if Amanda wasn’t already heading for the hills, there was no way he would be able to stop her now. “It’s the van, isn’t it? All the people you’ve attempted to kidnap, right?” At her gentle jest, both of Eddie’s eyes popped open. She was still there, sitting sweetly behind her melting shake, a tentative twist of her lips making it impossible for Eddie to stop imagining what kissing her would be like and he felt himself nodding with a hoarse giggle, relieved, “Yea. That’s, uh, that’s it. I’m just a creepy metal head with a super creepy van.” “You probably have candy too and uh, puppies? For the luring of innocents?” “Of course. What’s a kidnapper without his bait?” “A weird guy with an empty van?” And that absolutely shitty punchline was enough to send them both into a giggle fit, shattering any lingering tension created by being a touch too honest in the moment. There would be a better time to talk about deep dark secrets and the reasons why two lonely people could find comfort in each other, but this wasn’t it. When Amanda pulled her hand back this time, Eddie let it go. She used her napkin to dab under her eyes, clearing away the tears that laughing together had created. Then she was dipping down to slurp at her creamy concoction, grinning, “This is so good!” “Right? But, I gotta say, vanilla is-” “What? What’s wrong with vanilla?” Shaking his head with a laugh, Eddie raised his eyebrows, “Vanilla is kinda boring.” “It is not!” Scalded by his choice of words, Amanda leaned over their shared table at the diner, motioning him closer. When she was near enough for her now vanilla scented breath to skate across Eddie’s mouth, Amanda husked, “Vanilla is smoky. Sweet. It’s hard to grow, super hard to harvest and while there are many imitators out there. Real vanilla. The good stuff? Well, that shit would rock your world.” Amanda, feeling bolder, pushed in tighter despite the formica between them, continuing in a hushed tone. “And Eddie-” her voice dropped even lower, forcing him to concentrate on every word leaving her tenderly parted lips, lips that smelled like bourbon and sugar and cream. Lips that Eddie wanted to taste so badly that he was sure he was going to go mad, right here in the goddamned diner, before their burgers ever made it to the table. Lips that begged to be kissed stupid, carried on, unaware of his rising desire, “-never forget this: chocolate needs vanilla to taste so damn good!” Sitting back, pleased as punch now that her point was made, Amanda slurped down another sip of her vanilla shake. Eddie needed a minute. Or seven. He was still almost lying chest down on the booth’s table, having to cock his head up to look at the vanilla loving vixen gloating over him. Spreading his broad hands over the tabletop, Eddie dramatically pushed himself back into his seat, eyeing Amanda warily, acting contrary for the fun of it. “It’s a good story, kid. But I’m still not convinced about vanilla’s superiority. Maybe-” He was pushing his luck, he knew it. God, but he knew it only too well. She’d admitted to being new to all this, inexperienced, but still, fortune favors the bold, isn’t that what some famous person had said once? Amanda, unknowingly, waited for his follow-up, her mouth wrapped around the striped straw, her cheeks round and smiling, “Maybe?” Leaning onto one leather wrapped elbow, Eddie reclaimed the space at the center of their table, “Maybe I need to taste it again?” She’s confused. Yea, definitely, confused. So Amanda moved, ready to slide her icy half filled glass his way. But Eddie shook his head slowly and waved her forward until their foreheads were almost pressed together. That’s when he cupped her cheek, gently, softly and Amanda, powerless to stop her body, nuzzled into the warmth there. It felt natural. Right. Easy. And there was no way that Amanda was going to deny herself this little bit of pleasure being offered so openly. If what Eddie had admitted was true, and the way his eyes had scrunched gave her a pretty good idea that it was, then he was in uncharted waters himself. Something about that idea, that they were both in this raging waterfall of connection together made it safer somehow. It made it easier to shut her own eyes and enjoy the calloused caresses of Eddie. Eddie slid his thumb over her plush bottom lip which parted without question, “Wanna taste you. That alright, Mandy?” God, did she like being called Mandy. She bobbed her head ‘yes’, her eyes shut from the want, already anticipating Eddie’s movements. But he surprised her again, asking- no, telling, “Open your eyes, baby. Please?” And only when Eddie could spy the blown open pupils of his dinner companion did he allow his mouth to surge forward. His slightly chapped lips separated enough for his tongue to sweep across Amanda’s own and he was rewarded with a sultry sigh. It made Eddie braver. Bolder.

Now he was intrepid in his search for the flavor of vanilla, teasing and taking a taste of every muggy corner of her mouth. His tongue brushed against her own, the fresh flavor of vanilla sweetness everywhere. Heady and exotic and exciting. Amanda tipped her chin downward, ready to deepen this first kiss that arched over forgotten milkshakes and the paper napkins wrapping up their silverware, tentatively running the tip of her tongue over Eddie’s teeth. Traces of chocolate and the syrupy sweet cherry from the top of his treat lingered on Eddie’s lips making Amanda hum harmonically. Her fingers fisted into the collar of his flannel shirt, ensuring that Eddie couldn’t escape, at least, not without effort. But she wasn’t worried. When his second hand molded to the curve of her other cheek, Amanda couldn’t avoid smiling, knowing that Eddie was as into this as she was. As far as first kisses went, this one was ranking pretty high on the list of all time greats and both were reluctant to pull away first. “Ahem! AHEM! I have your order.” Two heads turned toward the intruding voice of the bored and bordering on disgusted server Doris but Eddie and Amanda didn’t jump apart like a couple of randy teens might have. Oh no, Amanda leaned further into the cup of Eddie’s palm, offering their put upon server a small smile, dazed and almost drunkenly, “Hmm, thank you so much.” Eddie would have rather died than forfeit the pleasure of her trusting touch. With his free left hand he reached for one of the two plates, “Here, lemme have that.” “Whatever.” Without any further ceremony, Doris, because that’s what her name tag read, plopped both heavy ceramic dishes to the table, “Need anything else lovebirds?” Amanda lifted her head slowly, licking over her bee stung lips and nodded towards the pink cheeked shaggy headed boy still draped across their booth, “Uh, yea. Could we have another vanilla shake, please? It’s his favorite flavor.” Chuckling, Eddie let his broad thumb with the bitten down nail graze over the apple of her cheek, speaking to Doris but only looking at Amanda, “Two cherries, huh, Doris?” Rolling her elderly eyes, the waitress shook her head, “Right away.” Steam rolled off the two cheeseburger melts and stacks of seasoned french fries but they remained huddled as close at the table between them would allow. Cocking his eyebrow, Eddie couldn’t help the teasing, “My favorite, huh?” “Oh yea. You’re a convert now.” Settling back reluctantly, Eddie smirked your way, “Ever think that you’re my favorite flavor?” He was rewarded with a small kiss pressed to the inside of his wrist and what he realized was a trademark tilt of her head, “I told you that everything tastes better with vanilla, Eddie.” “Yea, you sure did.” Biting into his burger, Eddie grinned through the grease on his face, sure he had never been happier in his short life. And if the triumphant smirk Amanda flashed his way proved anything, she felt the exact same way.

— The second their empty plates had been cleared away, Eddie’s hand naturally kind of reached for Amanda’s, needy and greedy for the reassurance of touch. Just as natural, Amanda slotted her fingers between his, “I gotta say, Eddie, that was a pretty amazing burger.” Pleased at the recognition, Eddie squeezed her digits for a second, “Thanks for trusting me.” And then he seemed to realize the full implication of his statement. Thanks for trusting him on the drive over. Thanks for trusting his judgment about the restaurant and not just his menu choices. Thanks for trusting his intentions. Her eyes rounded at the sentiment, giving Eddie a flash of sympathy before leaning into a flirty smile, “I had to. You did pinky promise me that there would be no funny business and that’s ironclad. At least, that’s what I’ve been led to believe.” “God, you remember everything, huh?” But he sounded impressed. Happy that she hadn’t lingered on his more revealing comment. Nodding, Amanda agreed, “Yea, I mean, I kinda have an ear and it’s always been easy for me to memorize stuff. Lyrics, melodies, lines from movies-” Leaning forward again, engaged and interested, Eddie licked over his bottom lip, “No shit?” “No shit!” Eddie couldn’t help it. He let his eyes roam over the pretty face in front of him, etching all of the details into his own memory, vowing never to forget the greasy sweet shine of her lips around the red striped straw or how she folded her disposable napkin up primly before laying it across her dinner plate. The way Amanda’s hand felt so right in his and how her mouth tasted like vanilla ice cream with a trace amount of menthol throat drop lingering along her teeth. Eddie needed to remember it all for later. For tonight when he went back to his trailer, like a gentleman. For tomorrow or the day after or the day after that. For all the days that would spread between this time together and the next time Eddie would be able to see her. He was going to live off the sound of Amanda’s begrudging laugh when he made a joke that was funnier than it had any real right to be. He planned to survive on the nourishment of her sugared sighs when those perfect, plump and pouty lips had welcomed Eddie’s own. It was food for his soul. Essential for life like oxygen or water. “Uh, Eddie?” Amanda’s quiet question yanked him out of his own head and back into the present moment. He tugged the forward chunk of his hair between his long fingers, embarrassed at being caught, “Hmm?” “You’re, uh, staring.” “Yea. Sorry about that. It’s just-” “Do I have something on my face?” Panicked, Amanda patted at her cheeks to find the non-existent stain. And how could he help himself? “Oh, yup. A little higher. No, lower- uh, nope, other side. It’s right there-” he directed her wildly, pointing at the corner of his mouth to watch Amanda lick the same spot of her own, “-almost. How do you keep missing it?” “You little shit!” It was suddenly crystal clear that Eddie was full on fucking with her. There never had been anything on her face. “What? You got it. Just now.” Eddie’s impish grin made it impossible for Amanda to be truly mad so she settled for shooting him a playfully spiteful glare, “Uh huh. Yea, sure.” His thumb rubbed along the side of her pointer finger, the gentle drag a grounding reminder of Eddie’s unwavering presence. Amanda rested her chin against the flat of her right palm before sighing deeply, “What am I gonna do with you, Eddie?” Reflexively, re-actively, he answered, “Whatever you want, baby.” It was Amanda’s turn to stare. There was an open honesty in the hot coffee color of Eddie’s eyes that hooked her right through the heart and tugged like a caught fish on a rusty lure. He was being serious, there was no denying it. Around them the air shifted. It was no longer funny. It was no longer polite. The world narrowed once more, big enough for only the two of them and the dingy diner booth where they sat as everything else fell away. Her throat tightened and a lick of heated flame unfurled through her belly. Words flooded her thoughts but Amanda couldn’t seem to settle on the ones that would say what she wanted desperately to express. Eddie’s seemingly simple declaration had untethered her. Because it was too soon to speak with such clarity of purpose. Too early for the implication of more to be made. And yet, for the first time, Amanda saw the ghostly shape of possibility in the earnest expression Eddie wore. There was a promise there, stronger than one created when two little fingers linked, and something about that was spooky. Scary. Only, Amanda didn’t feel frightened like she thought she should, shrugging smoothly, “I- I wanna stay with you.” That was her truth, in the singular sparkling now. Leaving Eddie, even for the comfort of home, was a thought so daunting, so disruptive, that she was actively moving against it. Everything in Amanda Patterson said ‘stay’. Eddie’s head bobbed in understanding. He had no intention of letting the night end so early and without any plan in place for a follow-up rendezvous. At Amanda’s declaration, he’d changed the grip of her hand, turning it so that their palms touched, textured heat melding together.

He’d be lying if he denied the libidinous way his blood shot south at the whispered want in Amanda’s voice. He was a young and virile guy, after all. But Eddie wasn’t thinking with his dick when he said, “I don’t wanna let you go, Mandy.”

“Am I-” pausing to catch her breath, Amanda started again, “-are we crazy?” “I uh, I don’t think so.” Conspiratorially, Amanda huffed, “Then what do we do now, Eddie?” His free hand brushed through his curls roughly before landing on the back of his neck, “Let me take you home?” It was a question born of chivalry and Amanda agreed with a thin, “Yes, please.” Eddie stood up first, somehow managing to keep her hand in his as he slipped out of the booth smoothly. Once he was on his feet, he tugged lightly, bringing Amanda to the edge of the bench before offering his arm. She watched as Eddie threw some loose bills on the table and then he was leading her outside of the bacon scented diner and onto the sidewalk. She floated at his side, the swaying of her skirt brushing against the stiff denim of Eddie’s jeans. What had been an appropriate outfit for the early evening was now a bit too thin and he saw her shiver under the bright and clear Indiana sky. Popping open the van’s door, he saw her settled inside and as she buckled her seatbelt, Eddie shrugged off his leather jacket, “Here. Snuggle up under this, yea?” Gripping the body warm coat with greedy fingers, Amanda clutched it to her chest, humming her thanks. He watched as she spread it over herself, nudging the collar with her nose, “Oh man, it smells like you!” “Cigarettes and bad decisions?” “Nope.” Inhaling deeply, she thought for a minute, “Cologne? Aqua Velva, like my granddad wears and uh, Green Apple shampoo?” She couldn’t hide the surprised way her eyes widened or the knowing little smirk her mouth made at this discovery. “What? I think it smells good.” Lingering in the space between inside the van with Amanda and outside on the sidewalk, Eddie’s arms leaned into the rusted metal frame, effectively caging her in the seat. Not that she minded when every time he stretched his flannel shirt rode up just enough for an alabaster white slice of belly to peek over the waistband of his jeans. She had already noticed splashes of black ink over each hip but couldn’t be sure of its shape. His forearms were on display, the strong veins of his wrists visible under the artfully stained skin, and Amanda let her mind wander at the idea of what Eddie looked like under all that cotton and cloth. Amanda swallowed thickly. She was very aware of the protective bubble Eddie had built around her, here in the cab of his vehicle. The scent of him. The sight. It was a feast for the senses. And now all she wanted was to taste the plush and pillowy softness of his lips. Lips that were moving, saying something but her mind had gone over into staticy silver. She couldn’t help it. Not when he was standing with his trim waist nearly at eye level, the belt of his jeans drawing them low on his hips. “Huh?” That grin. Broad and toothy, spread smugly over his face, “Uh, did I lose you for a second?” “Hmm, yea. Kinda. Sorry, what were you saying?” “I was saying, I don’t want to say goodnight, at least-” he raised a hand to her cheek, brushing the calloused pad of his thumb across her smooth skin, “-not so soon.” Having already melted into his touch, hoarse and throaty, she agreed, “Yea, no, me either.” “Yea? So, if you’re up for a little adventure, I may have an idea.” Amanda lifted an eyebrow, questioning the boy before her with a sarcastic thread to her words, “An adventure?” “Don’t worry, babe. I'll make sure to get you there and back again.” His pinkie finger was wiggling, just waiting for Amanda to link them together in a silent show of trust. —

Thanks for reading! Part 2 is coming soon!

Want to read more? Check out my Masterlist here!

The Taglist is Open! If you’ve asked to be tagged and I missed you, or I’ve incorrectly tagged you, gently let me know! XO - WNG

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@thatsonezesty13 @sxlly-pxbble @kerri-leighjade @carleighsworld @mediocreaf @weird-stranger13 @cupiden @sereisstuff @elviqs @hevanleigh @ethereal-daydreamerr @armyangxls @alana-stewart @lonely-af-fangirl @darkhairedmenrule @b1tchbabytears @punishers-girl @ravencrap-hufflefuck @rosegoldarti @boeutiful @york-peppermint-patty @atlwhatevs @mermaidsandcats29 @aereth @drfrank211 @ladysteddie @friendly-neighborhood-ghoul @otakumultimuse-hiddlewhore @sweetsweetjellybean @sammy-jo1977

#eddie munson x oc #eddie munson x plus size oc #eddie munson x plus size reader #eddie munson slow burn #eddie munson romance #eddie munson love at first sight #eddie munson love story #eddie munson music #Eddie my love #eddie munson smut #wordynerdygurlwrites #wordynerdygurl work in progress #wordynerdygurl master list #wordynerdygurl

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wordynerdygurl · 2 years ago

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@crazyk-imagine ! Thanks for including me on this illustrious list!! Appreciate the love!! And hell yes, shout out to you for being rad as hell!! ❤️❤️❤️

Fic Recs

Top Gun + Top Gun: Maverick

Fics

Tom “Iceman” Kazansky

Head in the clouds // I get a kick out of you by @callsign-dragonbaron

Pete “Maverick” Mitchell

Falling In and Out of Love by @youlightmeupfinn

Jake “Hangman” Seresin

Good… Very Good by @enchanting-eloquence

Take me to bed by @siempre-bucky

Hangman Boyfriend x reader by @seasonsbloom

Pay your tab by @multifandomfanfic

Do not disturb by @callsign-valley

Icarus and the moon // Pt.2 by @reverierogers

The last word by @sunlightmurdock

Parling spots and Matcha Lattes by @withahappyrefrain

Robert “Bob” Floyd

Misquoute by @welcome-to-writers-haven

You look good in yellow by @cowboybeepboop

Top Gun Nine-Nine by @3tabbiesandalab

A friendly push by @skvatnavle

Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw

Pursuit by @sunlightmurdock

Writers

@hederasgarden

@callsign-dragonbaron

@jakeseresins

@callsign-phoenix

@callsignbob

@topgun-imagines

@imjess-themess

@augustinescruelsummer

@bradshaw-fanclub

Outer Range

Fics

Rhett Abbott

The Duality of Man by @3tabbiesandalab

Branded // Part 2 @3tabbiesandalab

Writers

@hederasgarden

@rhettabbotts

Stanger Things

Fics

Eddie Munson

June Baby // Part 2 by @luveline

Wrapped around your finger by @lilacletter

I was made for lovin’ you by @milkiane

The stars at lover’s lake by @stranger-nightmare

More pushin’ for the kushin’ by @innerstrawberryheart

Mystery Girl by @munsonslove

Single dad! Eddie drabbles by @luveline

Writers

@hellfireclubmember

@luveline

Steddie

Mouse Trap by @wordynerdygurl

Bridgerton

Fics

Benedict Bridgerton

An artist’s touch by @mrsbbridgerton

I love you as one loves certain obscure things by @letterstotheflre

Writers

@butterflybuckethat

Marvel

Fics

James “Bucky” Barnes

Comfort by @crewhonk

What a peach by @angrythingstarlight

Super soldier by @kyloxox

Hawaii Five-0

Fics

Steven McGarrett

And Then Some by @slutforsilverfoxes

Too Tired to Move by @hawaii5-0gurl

Writers

@slutforsilverfoxes

@hawaiifiveoh

Everybody Wants Some!!

Fics

Finnegan

Count on it by @marvelandotherfandomimagines

Triple Frontier

Fics

William “Ironhead” Miller

A nice night in the middle of July by @merakiaes

Star Trek

Fics

Spock

The great, green room by @lucycola

Other

Spot the cat

Gifs

Top Gun + Top Gun: Maverick

The Dog fight Scene

More of the scene

More dog fight scene

Hangman & Coyote

Hangman and his darts

Bob in the sky

Hangman during the dog fight

The one time you see the other pilots

An adorable duo

Fritz during the dog fight

Bob’s move

Goose Goose

Anthony as Goose

Everybody Wants Some!!

Finnegan with his cowboy hat // Cowboy hat

Finnegan dancing

Finnegan // Pt. 2

Finnegan and the bull

Finnegan and Coma dancing

Supernatural

Richard Speight Jr fangirling

Jensen *tsk tsk*

Gag reel

Dean

Falcon and the Winter Soldier

Zemo dancing

Footloose

Willard dancing

Willard and Ren Dancing

The Lost Boys

Marko, Paul, Dwayne, and David

CSI: New York

Lindsay embarrassing Flack

Buzzfeed Unsolved

Shane and Ryan through the years

An Icon

Salem Saberhagen Icons Pt. 1 // Pt. 2

Chris Knight deleted scene

Plus, a shameless shoutout for myself ;) @crazyk-imagine

#fic recs #eddie munson x plus size reader smut #steve harrington x plus size reader smut #eddie munson x plus size reader #steve harrington x plus size reader #steddie x plus size reader smut #steddie x plus size reader #steddie x reader smut #steddie x reader #steddie smut #eddie x reader smut #steve harrington x reader #wordynerdygurl master list #wordynerdygurlwrites #wordynerdygurl

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wordynerdygurl · 2 years ago

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Someone to Watch Over Me

Part 3: “He’s the One Affair I Cannot Forget”

Author’s Note: Oh my lovelies! Truth time- I almost didn’t post this... I reworked it and reworked it and walked away from it before remembering that I had come too far to turn back now. So, with my humble thanks to @sweetsweetjellybean and @sammy-jo1977 you now have Part 3!

My taglist is open and reblogs are encouraged!!

It’s filled to the brim, so enjoy!

If you need to catch up: Part 1 - Love is Blind & Part 2 - Seek & You Will Find are here! Pairing: Eddie Munson x Plus Sized OC Amanda Patterson Summary: It’s love at first sound, pitch perfect and fated, everything in harmony. If only life were a love song. Eddie and Amanda make their union physical, back in 1987. What does 1990 have in store? Warnings: There is SMUT ahead (minors DNI), first time with a new partner, and mentions of birth control. Self depricating thoughts are discussed, some fat phobic ideas are expressed and there’s a passing mention of canon quality Chrissy’s passing. Also, smoking, drinking and swearing. Happy Reading!

1990

“Well, I think we’ve got everything we need. Thank you guys for your time.” Chuck grinned slickly, offering a tepid handshake to all the guys in the group, “The tech team will edit the package together and get it over to your manager for final approval, but yea, this should be on the air in a week or two. Exciting, right?”

The manufactured for the masses interviewer was looking directly at Eddie as he asked, clearly in need of approval or something less like open disdain from the front man and lead guitarist, “Uh, yea. Like, super exciting. So, thank you?” Gareth sniggered at his back. It was becoming way too obvious that Eddie couldn't keep the charade up much longer. Not when his head was like this- lost in the past but forced to work in the present. But then salvation arrived at his side. Maggie, savior, protector, liberator, bumped his shoulder and interrupted with a grave whisper, “Mr. Munson, I’m afraid it’s time.” Vague enough to sound serious, Eddie nodded his head solemnly, “Oh, yea, right. Well, thanks again Chuck, but, alas, duty calls.”

“No, thank you Eddie-” He didn’t answer the host, having already turned away, hip to hip with Maggie, heads bowed together like naughty kids. Waiting until they were out of earshot, she sighed deeply, “Ya know, that could've gone better, Emmy.” Eddie snorted at the nickname, his brown eyes rolling, “That guy sucked, Mags. Forget being a tool, Chuck was an entire tool box. A goddamned Harbor Freight of bullshit.” Sighing deeply, the sturdy woman fell in step beside him, “So fucking what? MTV’s gonna be running that shit for days, weeks even. The least you could do is be, I don’t know, polite?” He barreled through a swinging door back first, Maggie dogging his steps, as he sassed, “I was polite, Magdelena. I answered his questions. What else do you want from me?” Eddie nodded at one of the road guys as they passed, the lull in this particular conversation more than welcome. But of the many reasons he loved Maggie so much, this right here was the kicker; her determination. That it was also the worst thing about being her friend was one of those unsolved mysteries of life since this dominant personality trait meant that their little moving conversation wasn’t over. Not by a long shot. Turning down a narrow hall, they pushed into the green room together as she shrugged, “Maybe a little less attitude. Maybe a little more gratitude.” “Are you a greeting card now, Mags?” Eddie had flopped onto a sagging gray monstrosity of a couch, his legs kicked up over the arm, his back flat against the indeterminately stained cushion. Maggie wasn’t looking in his direction. Instead she was peeking around the corner, checking the exit and generally ensuring that no immediate risks to Eddie’s safety could be seen. When she was satisfied that a crazy fan was not about to jump out of his closet, she planted her feet and crossed her arms, staring down at Eddie with an affectionate scowl, “No, but I do like my paycheck, so I need you to stay employed.” “Ha! Honey, the lead singer of Corroded Coffin ain’t goin’ nowhere!” She pulled a plastic backed chair closer, eyeing him from the shadow of her ever present hat’s bill, “Well, that’s not entirely true, now is it?” His eyebrow raised again, curiosity clear on Eddie’s face, “You know something I don’t?” “Aren’t we going back to Indiana? That Battle of the Bands thing after New Year’s?” Settling back against the flimsy seat, her legs opened wide, Maggie ran her hands over her thighs, the rolled sleeve of her shirt showcasing her own inky designs. The caged bird on her forearm always drew Eddie’s attention and even now he caught himself staring at the intricate ink instead of answering his friend and protector’s question. “Fuck. I had almost forgotten.” “Bullshit.” Squinting at him, the same look she gave to overeager fans who lined up alongside the tour bus, the one that made them piss their pants in fright, the one he cherished, Maggie now used on Eddie to get at the truth. Feigning affront, he sat up on his elbows, hair long enough now to get caught underneath his shoulder and pulling, “Excuse me?” “Bullshit you forgot. You’re going to judge the Battle of the Bands in your home state and you fucking forgot? Nope. No way. And what’s with the song you brought up? Someone to Watch Over Me? A little, I don’t know, soft for you, ain’t it?” The blush of honesty scorched through him so fast, Eddie flopped back to the sofa with a soft whoosh sending a swirl of dust out of the ancient furniture. How many sweaty asses have sat here, he wondered quickly. A hundred? More? Gross. But then Mags cleared her throat, unimpressed by his delay tactics. It chafed her charge and since Eddie was already feeling some kind of way, more defensive than he meant to be, he huffed, “Yea? So? It’s- it’s a great song.” There were not a lot of secrets between Edward Munson and Magdelena Rios but Mandy? Yea, that was definitely, absolutely a secret he kept close. So, of course his bodyguard slash bulldog wouldn’t know about his affinity for Gershwin songs when they were sung into a perfect Indiana sunset. And she wouldn’t know about the ache in his chest whenever he looked up at the sky and found the silent, silver full moon staring back down him. Judging him. Reminding him of regrets that ran deep- goblin green and moss covered, growing mushrooms in the dark. Clever and always on alert, Maggie saw something cross his face because she nodded and then tipped her chair onto two legs, “Uh huh. Right.” “What are you trying to say, my darling Magdelena?” Swinging his big black boots forward, Eddie pushed up so he was sitting almost normally. He let his clasped hands hang between his knees as he lifted baleful brown eyes to Maggie’s steely ones. “I’m trying to say that you’re not using your head.” Her chair clanged as she lowered it too fast making Eddie flinch, “I am saying, flat out, that you got so pissy with Chuck the Tool Box because you were a little too honest today, even if I don’t get why. I guess-” she leaned forward now, encroaching on the rockstar’s space with a soul deep exhale, “-I’m saying I’m worried about you, my friend.” Twisting his lips into a devilish smirk, Eddie reached over and flicked at the brim of her hat, “Honey, sweetie, darling, Maggie… you got nothing to worry about. I’m fine.”

They both knew he was lying.

It was during their condensed pre-show warm up that Eddie realized he was in trouble. Naturally, his fingers felt along the frets of his acoustic Gibson, a melody in calloused pads playing without a lot of thought. Behind him the other members of Corroded Coffin fooled around, checking levels and making weird noises into the mics, generally acting like the assholes he knew and loved. Normally he’d be the one leading the rabble, causing trouble and wreaking havoc for the venue staff but there was a riff stuck in his brain.

“Earth to Eddie! Helllooooo? Anybody home?”

Without looking up, he rumbled, “Fuck off Jeff, I’m working here.” “Hear that fellas? Eddie’s working while we’re just lazing around.” Yea, this was definitely a song, he could feel it vibrating in his bones. Excited now, he flashed wide eyes at the boys in the band, “Pen! Paper!” The dumb fuckers looked at each other with varying degrees of confusion on their faces. Gareth, the bravest, ventured, “Uh, wh- what man?” “Something to write with- On! I gotta get it outta me, Gare!” There was a manic energy filling the spaces between microphone stands and amplifiers that made Eddie itchy under the skin. When the muse came she would not be denied and holy shit but she was coming hard right now. He knew the grateful smile he flashed at the poor roadie responsible for dropping off a mechanical pencil and three white paper plates must have been terrifying to see, but giving birth was a messy process no matter what form the new life took. Pencil clamped between his teeth like one of his cherished cigarettes, Eddie moved his hands down the neck of the guitar and back up, picking a string or two along the way. Using a cab for a table, he scribbled, paused to hum, then broadly grinned. It was over in a matter of minutes. “Here. New tune.” Breathing harder than a marathon runner, he shoved the scalloped edged plates covered in gray looping letters at his friends and bandmates. Jumping off a riser, Gareth looked over his oldest friend’s work and nodded slowly, “Uh, ok, Eddie. What do you want us to, uh, ya know, do with this?” “Play it? I mean, we are a band, right? And we make music, don’t we?” “It’s gibberish, man.” “Fuck you! It’s good. Great even. I know it.” Waving Eddie closer, Gareth handed off the hastily scribed song to Jeff, before wrapping an arm around their front man, “Eddie. My friend. My musical partner in crime. I ask with all due respect-” they had been walking towards the wings of the stage, Eddie following where he was led, “- But what the fuck is going on with you today?” Pulling back hard, Eddie’s hair swung at the force of his movement, “What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with you, man? I come to you with a- a new tune and you- you call me out like this?” Revved up and idling, Eddie was a race car in the red. Gareth recognized all the signs despite it being a long while since this particular engine had been torqued so high. With hands raised in surrender, the curly blond conceded, “Hey, no one is calling you out man. I’m telling you that it’s, I don’t know, weird?” “Weird? What the hell, man. Just say what you want to say and let me get back to the music for fuck’s sake.” “Ok. Ok.” Eddie had to watch as his buddy rolled his shoulders back before taking a big breath in, “You were an asshole to the MTV guy, which, I get it man. Guy’s a dick but this is a big deal, Eddie. I know you know that, deep down, but you’re not acting like you do.” Dropping his voice lower, Gareth added, “And you talked about- well, her.” The extra emphasis wasn’t needed. All it did was needle under the thin skin that Eddie was sporting today, a suit that didn’t fit quite right, and he didn’t know why. But here was friend number two mentioning erratic behavior and well, that sucked to hear. Deflating visibly, his security hair strand pulled over his face, Eddie countered weakly, “I didn’t say her name.” “You didn’t have to, pal" and having the decency to look embarrassed, he added, “You called your new hit ‘Watching the Moon’.” Huffing out a strained laugh, Eddie met his friend’s kind gaze with a grimace, “Not very subtle, huh?” “Naw, not really" was the half chuckled reply. Stretching his neck out, chin to the auditorium’s ceiling, an unhinged note in his voice, Eddie felt obligated to apologize, “I’m sorry, Gare. Don’t know why but I’m spinning out a bit.” Really ribbing him now, Gareth bumped into his buddy’s side, “You don’t know why? Gee, let’s see, you have huge rock show tonight, had an interview with MTV today, you’re writing music, touring, and being away from home, from Wayne, from people you lov-” the face Eddie flashed was all the warning he was going to give his oldest friend, and Gareth adjusted accordingly, “-care about sucks. It’s- it’s a lot, man and you’re allowed to be overwhelmed. But you’re not allowed to blow it all up because you’re missing your ex.” There it was. Too honest to be denied, Eddie was caught. Trapped like a bird in a cage and held hostage by the golden bars of memory. He had moved it past it, past her. Truly! There had been groupies in spandex skirts with hair teased higher than Mount Rushmore who took care of Eddie Munson with a reverence he did not deserve. An actress with a chest so big it frightened him, really. Plus a model who had the exact opposite problem- all skin and bones with no meat to feast on. Not his flavor by any stretch of the imagination. So, Eddie had skimmed the oil slicked surface of available tail and was happy for the opportunity. Appreciated every lovely lady and that one very handsome fella who made him feel worthy again. Each new conquest a fresh layer of sediment, burying the idea of Amanda further and further down in the rock formation of his heart.

It worked. Eddie had been every inch the wild child rock singer of his high school daydreams, until the Battle of the Bands was brought up.

The label had it all planned out- two shows in Indianapolis a Thursday night and then again on Saturday. In between, Corroded Coffin's lead singer would help choose the 1991 Battle Champion, awarding a cash prize and the chance to open the second date's concert. It was a huge opportunity for some local metal group, a chance Eddie would have loved to take advantage of only a few short years ago, and he was looking forward to it. Except-

Hidden in the haystack of going back to Indiana was the needle named Amanda Patterson. The odds of finding that needle at a Corroded Coffin show considering how things ended between them was minimal at best, but it wasn’t zero. It was that one in a million chance which buzzed boldly between Eddie’s ears, making him think about moonlit nights and vanilla milkshakes and promises whispered under overworn sheets. The tune he’d quickly crafted came back to him now, ‘Watching the Moon’, and of course it was about her. Them. All the things he didn’t say and all the things she wouldn’t allow him to. It was absolutely a hit, even though it hadn't been played once and wasn’t recorded yet. It was a hit because it came from that same well inside of Eddie where love and passion and music all swam together. A tall tower still ruled by Mandy, despite years and tears and stand-in people.

He was going to make this song a number one, getting it played on every single radio station from here to Toronto, knowing that if Gareth could see through the title that his Moon Goddess would too. Maybe, then, his needle would find him. Maybe going back to Indiana wasn’t the worst idea his management team had cobbled together. Maybe it was all going to be ok.

Eddie Munson had a plan. A campaign to make things right. A strategy that was coming together almost as quickly as his song for Amanda.

Feeling lighter than he had all day, he clapped Gareth on the back and, yea, there might have been a bit too much force in his playful shove but he didn’t regret it. Gare could take it, it was why they were so close. So he spouted at his best friend, “You’re just jealous because I have an ex. There’s no one missing you but the blow up doll you keep in your bunk.” “Jesus! Shut up, Eddie!”

Craziness crowded into the overly expressive eyes of Eddie Munson as he darted back towards the other guys in the band, “Hey, did Gareth ever tell you about his Lady Latex?” —

1987

They made it to the front door, finally, after agreeing to a truce. No more touching. No teasing. Not until they were inside someplace that wasn’t on four wheels. Now though, they were stopped in front of said door, nervous giggles bubbling free like champagne uncorked. Cheeks hot from kissing too closely in the heated shelter of Eddie’s van before braving the nighttime’s frosty temperatures, their breaths mixed, making wispy clouds with every panted exhale. Try as she might, Amanda couldn’t keep the excited tremble from her hands as she struggled to fit the key into her lock. It certainly didn’t help that the overly eager rocker couldn’t seem to keep his lips or his hands or even his hips to himself, “Truce schmuce” was all he said before enveloping her in his embrace. And he was everywhere- each time the notches of her house key caught the lock, he would nibble on the fleshiest part of her earlobe making her shudder, deadbolt be damned.

He was distracting in the best and most frustrating way. Because really, all she wanted to do was get inside where she could return his touch. Tease him back. Taste him. And go on to do all of the other tantalizing things they had been thinking about since their first blissful kiss over vanilla milkshakes. Another miss as the lock continued to do its job in spite of her efforts and she pouted, unable to keep the needy whine out of her voice, “Eddie! Come on!” “What? What’d I do?” Oh, he feigned innocence, but he knew. Eddie knew that every sloppy press of his lips to her delicate neck, every roll of his pelvis, every graze of his fingers over her own was making Amanda feverish. Flustered. It was also keeping the pair of them on the wrong side of the door. Dropping her frigid hands with a frustrated growl after another failed attempt, Amanda stomped her foot before reaching up to try again. Shifting away from the long legged leviathan behind her, prompting his dulcet demand, “Quit wiggling and open the door!” “I’m trying but-” “But what, huh?” Wrapping over her back, the sharp bone of his chin hooked over her shoulder to watch her progress as Eddie’s red, raw fingers dragged strands of unruly hair behind her ear. Breathing hotly against the golden hoop hanging there, he husked hoarsely, “Need some, ah, help, Mandy?” “Please?”

Caving into the warmth behind her, Amanda nodded, her head rolling back against the denim vest over his torso, hair catching on his WASP pin causing her to moan pitifully. That it gave Eddie the chance to litter her neck with wet, open mouthed kisses, his palms squishing against her jacket as he tried to touch more and more of her was just an added bonus. Arms, creaking leather encased arms, reached around her, crowding her snuggly between the unopened door and his chest as the keys were plucked free from her grip, “Lemme try.” With her mind and hands free, Amanda’s own fingers could wander and they did. Quickly finding the dangling chain of Eddie’s wallet, she used the steel links to pull him tighter, earning a stuttered “Fuck.” from the guy at her back. Now she got to listen as her house keys jangled noisily while he attempted to do what she could not. Work them into the lock and open the fucking door. “I thought you were- uh, I thought you were supposed to be helping, Ed.” God, but she sounded wrecked already, her round bottom rubbing him through layers of distancing denim, the hard and firm evidence of the effect she was having making itself known.

And maybe it wasn’t fair of her to grind the curve of her ass into the sharp angles of Eddie’s hip bones while he fumbled to open her front door. Maybe. But when Amanda felt the firm length of him straining and stuck in his jeans she didn’t feel bad. Not even a little bit because that was proof. Evidence of just how much Eddie wanted her. It made her bold. Kissing the underside of his stubbled jaw as her keychain jingled in his giant hands, her lips smacked rudely over the sensitive skin at his throat forcing a croak out of him, “Trying, honey, but you’re kinda, Jesus-” She sucked harshly at the divot below his chapped ear, “-you’re, uh, distracting- there it is!” Triumphantly turning the knob, Eddie shuffled in short steps behind Amanda, tucking her close as they crossed the threshold.

With a satisfying snap, the door was shut behind them to keep the world out. But who could worry about something like an open door when there was kissing to be done? The heated sort of kisses which didn’t stop when Amanda ripped down the zipper of her jacket, shrugging her arms free before flinging it away into the abyss of the living room. Kisses that went melty in the middle, stretching and stretching but never breaking even when she forced her way under the shoulders of his leather, pushing it to the floor with a satisfying thump. Her hands wasted no time. Palms flat over the planes of his chest, she marveled for a moment at the solid strength hidden in Eddie’s trim physique. The muscles that lugging amplifiers and tossing truck tires created, buried beneath bravado and cotton and tattoos, only seen in glimpses now tense and tight and touchable. Fisting into the soft t-shirt he wore, a secretive smile spreading across her face, “Hi.” “Hi yourself, Miss Mandy.” Eddie’s paws spanned her ample waist, forcing her closer, his fingers tapping out an unfamiliar rhythm on the small of her back. With his curls brushing over her scalding cheeks, she licked her lips in anticipation, ready for the next press of his mouth to her own. And following the flick of her tongue, a hungry, haunted look on his face, he gritted out, “Where- shit, where’s your bedroom, Mandy?” Wordlessly she linked their hands together. A shiver that started in the sacred space below her navel raced through her blood, her body. Had it ever been like this before? As if her physical self was running a race that her heart and mind would follow to the finish? No. Never. Not once. Tugging against a hand heavy with silver rings, insistent and eager, she led the way and he followed. It wasn’t far. A few short steps down a shaggy carpeted hallway then through a door, partially opened already.

The room, Amanda’s room, was made of comfort- a brown corduroy bean bag sagged next to a record player being held up by two plastic milk crates crammed full of way too many records. A double tape deck had carved out its place on her desk, a stack of cassette cases leaning precariously, a few already having tumbled to the floor nearby. Her tawny acoustic guitar leaned against the wall, sheet music and notebook paper scattered around as if it had all been abandoned mid-session, frozen in time but waiting for her return. Pegged to her cork board was a calendar marking out her work days, school schedule and band rehearsals. Textbooks for her classes were stuffed into an unzipped backpack, and while the main floor was clear, it was scattered with little things like pencils and hair ties and stuffed mice and take-out forks.

He spied a knitted afghan in garish colors folded lovingly over a quilted brocade comforter and a stack of pillows, each with their own unstained case, piled against the rattan headboard. Her closet door was hastily shut but the tell-tale bulge of a lot of clothes crammed into not enough space was obvious. Photos and posters decorated the walls. It surprised him to see so many band names that he recognized mixed with 70s folk artists and new wave performers. Eclectic. Varied. The space was mis-matched but all the better for it. Personality, Amanda’s personality, wafted from every corner. This was her little nest, snuggled safely between these four walls, burrowed in like a happy mouse. Surrounded with all the comforts a soft, cozy creature could ever need: books and music and light and sweet things. Fuck, Eddie loved it. Probably, deep down in the dusky depths of his grimy gargoyle brain, he figured he shouldn’t. Shouldn’t love the sheer ruffled curtains parted down the middle so that starlight was visible over the neighboring houses, soft and serene. Definitely shouldn’t stoke the soft fabric with tentative fingers, rubbing the pristine veil between inside and out with thoughtful touches, careful not to stain it. It was all too nice, everything around him. Too pretty. Too put together for a guy who ate cereal over the sink and considered ketchup a vegetable. “This is a real nice place.” God, he sounded so stupid. But, like, it really was a nice place. Comfortable and clean. And quiet. No noisy neighbors shouting out their frustrations into the cold night air or barking dogs or backfiring cars with tires bouncing over pebbled dirt roads. “Uh, thanks but you haven’t even seen it with the lights on.” With a click, Amanda turned on the small bedside lamp that filled her space with a golden glow all at once. She wasn’t surprised to find that Eddie had strayed to her make-shift music station, his eyes lighting up at the variety of singers and bands and artists with what she hoped was appreciation. Taking a tentative step in his direction, talking with her hands, she edged nearer to the record player. Keeping her voice small, as though she was afraid of ruining the simple silence between them, “Is it cool if I put something on?” “Yea, yes. Of course. It’s your room, right?” “Well, yea, I guess it is. Uh, just-” and she moved to duck in front of him, already knowing which album to spin. But he was almost definitely purposefully standing exactly where she needed to get. “-Maybe you could, uh, let me in here?” Devilish now, an impish grin made his dimples pop, “Oh, am I in the way, Mandy? Sorry ‘bout that.” Only he didn’t sound very sorry at all. And as she shifted nearer, he held his ground, settling his weight in his heels, his arms crossed over his narrow chest. If she wanted to put on a record, she was going to have to squeeze next to him to do it and boy, did that idea light him up. Eddie was absolutely pushing his luck. He knew it, but couldn’t help himself. Blocking her path, planting his feet, he took up as much room as possible. Call him curious, but he wanted to see what she would do. Push him aside? Press those luscious curves in tight? Go back to kissing him so hard he felt like he was coming unglued? God he fucking hoped so. Watching her closely, he saw that tattle-tale tilt of her head, the eyes he couldn’t forget reflecting his own mischief making energy as Amanda dropped to her knees. Her tongue darted out from between her pillowy lips, spreading sweet saliva, shiny and slick in its wake. Rounding now, he was locked in on the circle of her pout, his body kicking up a gear at the sinful suggestion of what was sitting so prettily in front of him. Amanda, she knew what she was doing. When she peered up at him from the floor, raking her gaze over his towering figure through the veil of her lashes, she had a good idea that he was going to take the bait. So she reached out, not for the trim waist at eye level or for the hands fisted against denim wrapped thighs, but for her worn copy of Led Zeppelin IV sticking out from the bottom bin.

On an exhale through clenched teeth, a curse caught in his bone dry throat, “Sweet Jesus-” “Here.” Shocked into silence, she handed over the faded cardboard, nodding towards the record player, “Side two, if you don’t mind.”

It was enough to knock him over. How Amanda looked so innocent while making demands on her knees in front of him, resting back on her heels demurely, was a seismic shock to his system. It made Eddie’s head go fuzzy, ears full of feedback like when his guitar was too close to his amp with the knobs turned all the way up. He felt as though he was turned all the way up, cranked as high as possible, crackling explosively, dangerously near the limits of his control. Tacky sweat made his t-shirt cling in the warmth of Amanda’s room. And if her magnetic eyes weren’t boring into him, waiting him out, then he probably would have shucked the offending layer without question. As it was, she was too damn cute and too damn close for him to do much beyond blink away this latest round of pulsing need, which was the real problem here. Somehow he obliged when she raised a hand, asking oh so politely, “Do you mind?” before he gently helped her up to her feet. Puffing out his held breath with a wry chuckle, he smoothly slipped her chosen record onto the turntable and lowered the needle’s arm. Raising a cocky eyebrow when “Misty Mountain Hop” began to tumble from the speakers at a reasonably low volume, his swagger returned, “Ya know-” he paused to clear his throat, his voice already sounding too blown out, too rough, even to his own ears, “-I’ve seen Fast Times like twenty times. Harrington loves that movie, so I, uh, know what you’re up to.” “Really?” Her sweet voice was angel light from over his shoulder, as she spied on him slowly dropping the clear plastic lid on her stereo, “And what is that, Mr. Munson? What, exactly, am I up to?” “I think you’re trying to get into my pants, Miss Patterson.”

Shrugging, she denied him an answer, her eye contact direct and unwavering. Color, dusty pink and warm, spread over Eddie’s sharp cheekbones and under the smattering of freckles across his nose. He made a choked sound, as though something had stolen his breath at the last second, when she finally replied, “And? So, uh, so what if I am?” She sounded so much braver than she actually felt. Flirting was the easy part. The words between them holding added weight, spoken as they were, in the protective yellow glow of her table lamp, a comforting heaviness that was familiar and made the teasing effortless. Easy.

Just another stop on the tour. Because there was a map for this journey and she knew where they were headed. The terrain was well traveled. She wasn’t naive. The road forward was as clearly marked as Main Street, Hawkins, USA.

And tonight Eddie was going to learn all about the sloping curves and high density areas that she wouldn’t be able to hide behind well draped skirts or shapeless sweaters. She silently hoped that this pretty man with his broad smile and cocoa colored eyes still wanted to take the drive because Amanda wasn’t sure she could turn back now, even if she might wish for it later.

Together they had started this engine, all he had to do now was push down on the pedal and off they’d go. When they ran out of gas, if they sputtered out on the side of the road, and all she gained was the last two wonderful weeks and one night of lusty loving, the emotional equivalent of a “I humped Eddie Munson and all I got was this lousy t-shirt” souvenir, well, then she would learn to live with that.

Was it ideal? No. But then, things seldom were. And even though those three magic words had been said, had been kissed into her lips so many times since making their mutual confessions in the underused alcove at Steve’s house, it was still freaking her out. Because hadn’t this all happened before? Hadn’t she given so much of herself, of her heart, time and again, thinking that her feelings were returned- that this time it would be different, only to wind up disappointed? Tonight though, that kind of thinking had to be pushed aside. There was no more room to be bashful. To worry about what came next. Not when the guy in question was trembling from the task of keeping himself civil, the tense set of his jaw giving him away as he kept a respectful distance. Even still, the base maleness of him thrummed, vibrating the way guitar strings do when a chord is struck, the energy shimmering into sound. And Amanda had a great ear for that sort of music, too. At her taunting words Eddie’s mouth pulled to the right, a half smile making itself known as he crossed his arms over chest, “Hey, I’m not complaining, Mandy.” “Oh? Good. Yea, that’s good.” And she danced away from him, hips swaying in time with the driving beat. She stopped, popping the button on her dungarees with intention before shimmying them down her thick thighs, delighted by the pinch of Eddie’s teeth as he bit into his bottom lip. He was going to draw blood. The sweater she wore barely covered the swell of her hips but if he squinted, he was certain he could see the elastic of her panties. White? No, heather gray and spun out cotton. Simple, straightforward and charming as hell.

Swallowing over the hard knot of want that pushed against his Adam’s Apple, barely managing to keep his grunting in check, “Damn, Mandy.” “Hmm?” When she kicked her pants to the side he had to look away - at the ceiling, her wall, the mossy colored floor or risk cumming in his blue jeans. He slammed his eyes shut at the image in front of him. It didn’t help. Imprinted on the insides of his eyelids he could still see her. Bare legged, her supple skin nearly glowing, practically begging for his touch. Too sweet. Too fucking precious. Shit. Fuck. He wasn’t going to survive. So close to short circuiting, Eddie dragged a hand across the back of his neck, going so far as to squeeze the skin there, just to bring himself off the edge because, holy shit, there was no way that she knew what she was doing to him. The song shifted and Amanda sat herself down on the edge of her bed before leaning back on her hands. This new position thrust her chest forward, those smooth legs barely parted but making his gargoyle mind wander just the same. It wanted… to bite, to suck, to mark and mar. His goblin wanted to claim the fair maiden then lock her in the tallest tower, far away from anything or anyone harmful, except him, of course. His first step was cautious, feeling his way forward with only Amanda’s signals to light his path. The pull between them was undeniably strong, had been from the beginning, but he didn’t want to screw anything up now by being overeager. And he sure as fuck didn’t want to scare his girl away by coming on too strong or making a wrong move. Not when Robert Plant was singing and the room smelled like Avon lotion and lavender flowers and fabric softener, the expensive kind. Not when his pulse ticked wildly, darkening his eyes and steeling his resolve. Not when he could see a similar something simmering in Amanda’s expressive eyes. “You- you’re fucking gorgeous, Amanda.” “Eddie-” She let her head fall back, the tight tendons of her neck stretching, her rushed breathing making her chest rise and fall rapidly, the sound of argument loaded and ready. But he cut her off, moving a leg between both of hers, palms hovering over the width of her dimpled thighs, “-I wanna touch you. Wanna, wanna feel you. Can I?” “Can I?” she parrotted sweetly, upending his advancement, deflecting a little. And he must have nodded because then she was leaning towards him, gentle hands smoothing over his quads, her stare trained on his rapidly reddening face. Roving, she touched him lightly, delicately, over the clothes he was still wearing. Butterfly wings brushing over a flower's petals, never lingering before spreading goosebumps somewhere else, testing the waters of his tenacity. When her clever fingers found his handcuff belt buckle, he stopped her, gathering her hands in his own, “It, uh, it catches. Hang on.” He put a fraction of space between them, moving faster than she would have thought possible to catch up to her state of undress. He toed out of his sneakers, shunting them out of the way as he huffed out a laugh, wrestling with his belt, “Fucking thing, I don’t know why I even-” “I like it.” Popping his head up, Eddie caught sight of Amanda’s playful smirk, “You do, huh?” Raising her chin so that she could spy on him through the fringe of her lashes, she nodded with a chuckle, voice sounding like spun sugar, “Yea, of course I do. Goes with your whole bad boy image, ya know?” His fingers paused, the curtain of curls swinging while he asked, “Is that why you’re with me? Because I’m a bad boy?” “Nope.” She answered plainly, her focus never shifting, even though her hips did, thighs stopped from providing relieving friction by his knee, “I’m with you because of how you look at me, Eddie. Me. Like I’m something- someone worth looking at.” Pants forgotten, he traced a finger over the sweep of her cheek, “I love looking at you, you know that right? It’s like you’re the fucking moon, Mandy. Bright and, and beautiful and when you shine your light on me-” shaking his hair off his back, tone too earnest, voice too honest, “-it makes me forget about my darkness.” At the admission Eddie’s eyes drifted shut, his chin tipped skyward as he struggled to compose himself. There was uncertainty shadowing his words, in the shape his lips made while speaking, entirely unsure if his mouth should be trusted to relay all of the things his heart felt to be true. Because when he actually thought about it, three weeks ago he hadn’t known that there was a person named Amanda Patterson who even existed in this world. Now? Well, now she kind of was his world. And his world was reaching forward with tender, impatient hands, sliding his broken down leather belt free from the beloved buckle easily. Nimble fingers making quick work of the rivet fastening his pants closed but she stalled there, blinking up at him with confusion clear in her eyes, “Did you call me the moon?” A wide thumb hooked under her chin, lifting those thoughtful peepers to his own, “Yea, Mandy. The moon. Like when it’s full and round and close and you can’t believe that it’s real, looking down on you all lit up and so-” her touch was so so so close to his throbbing hardness he grunted, “-fucking hell. So ca-captivating. Can’t take my eyes off you.” It happened again. That thing where the world narrowed anytime she was with him, a hyper-focused momentary shift of time and place that made Amanda’s heart flutter wildly, blood roaring in her ears. A second when everything else around her faded into the background leaving no one else but her and Eddie. Together. Alone. So she didn’t laugh at his poetic confession or joke about his Shakespearean ideals. Instead, her pretty lips parted, mewling musically as his tongue licked into the honeyed cavern of her mouth. Sharing each inhale and exhale, pressing his advantage and Amanda higher up the bedspread until she was flat against the mattress, caged between strong tattooed forearms. Breathing heavily, sitting back with a sigh, he traced a hand over the fuzz of her sweater, “Can you- can I take this off you?” Something about being compared to the moon freed her from whatever worries she carried about herself, her body, to fade into the ether. When he asked to see her- all of her, her answer was a demanding, “God yes.” Eddie’s mouth fell hungrily to the newly exposed skin on her collarbone, hot and wet and needy. A tiny whimper tumbled out of her panting mouth when he slurped over the slope of her bra covered breasts, his hands politely cupping the cotton covered flesh. Desperately, her own hands clawed at his head, keeping his pursed lips tight to her body as he devoted himself to devouring her in bite-sized pieces. “Shit, h-hold on f’me.” Stuttering, sitting up on his knees, Eddie took a second to rip his own shirt off, tossing it behind him without a second look. His jeans were open, belt dangling loosely from the loops, the elastic waistband of his boxers low enough to display the cut of his hip bones. There were silvery scars in concentric circles that didn’t look as purposeful as the tattoos she’d been dying to see, and before she could be told not to, she was tracing over the slightly raised skin with her index finger. Eddie let her touch. Explore. The graze of her hands was intentional, not teasing and not pitying either. He would know because he’d been on the receiving end of both before. More than that, he appreciated that she asked no questions about what had created the mottled pattern on his abdominals, just accepted that they existed and were part of him. If he wasn’t already in love with her, that alone would have surely cemented his fate. Surging in his system like the first inhale of that kind bud Rick got from Canada, he relaxed into the feeling, letting it blossom while sampling the sensitive stretch of her neck, the ball of her shoulder, the space between her breasts. A starving man facing a Golden Corral buffet table wouldn’t have sounded happier than he did at that moment. “God, look at you, Mandy.” He hummed as he worked his way over her ribs, “Moon goddess. My moon goddess.” Writhing beneath him, she folded towards him at the praise, little huffing sounds pushing over her lips, “You look so good right now. So sweet. So goddamn sweet for me.” The words were honey hot, warm and sticky, and they chafed like his denim covered legs. rubbing deliciously against her naked ones. The friction too much and not nearly enough for the pleasure taking root in the warm, moist soil of her center. Even touch drunk on Eddie she bucked at the sentiment, practically pouting, “Hmm, I’m not-” she scrunched her eyes shut, tossing her head weakly against the blanket, “-I’m not that sweet.” Dropping down to his forearms, his nose nuzzled into hers as he chided tartly, “Maybe I should taste you again then and make sure? Gonna let me? Let me taste you and touch you and make you feel good?” Nodding from beneath him, keen eyes locked on his, “Hmm- Yes, yes, uh huh. I want that. So bad. Want you so bad.” Shutting her eyes at the sensation, his calloused fingertips slid up the satin of her outer thighs, leaving shivery bumps in his wake . He dug his fingertips into the pillowy softness there, loving the feel of her flesh under his touch, “I’m gonna give you everything you want, Mandy, don’t worry. Gonna make you mine. Keep you in bed until the sun don’t shine.” A sound then, half groan half giggle, floated between them, Amanda sighing through a playful smile, “Eddie Munson’s a- a poet. Who knew?” “Credit where credit’s due, babe. I’m a songwriter. A lyricist, ya know? Whoa!” His answer was smug but faded fast when she yanked down on his jeans before brushing the pads of her fingers over the newly exposed tattoo on Eddie’s right hip.

It was beautiful; a snake in black and gray, coiled around itself, the wide fanged mouth biting into the tail in an unending loop. This piece was big. Artistic and finely detailed. Her open palm barely covered half of it when she reverently pressed against the permanent artwork. “And, uh you just bring it out in me- Jesus Christ! Your hands are freezing!” “Are they?” with a tone turned thick with teasing, she widened her smirk before those frigid digits were skating over his pecs and poking into his ribs. Like a startled grasshopper, he jumped back far enough to catch her tickling fingers, the grip on her wrists keeping her from reaching his more sensitive areas despite her wiggling attempts to get free. Leaning in closer, loopy laughing aside, he tsked, “Oh, bad move, Mandy!” “Ah! No, Eddie, please! I’m really ticklish- Ah!” She started to scoot away, further up the bed, side to side, trying to shimmy out of his hold, laughing the whole time. Loudly. Happy to be caught. Using his teeth, feral and frolicking, Eddie bit into the roundness of Amanda’s shoulder, the small sharp pain widening her eyes, “Did you just bite me?” Flashing her his lady-killing grin, he clicked his tongue, “Told you I had to know how sweet you were, Mandy. And-” settling his hips between her parted thighs, “-I gotta say, you’re pretty damn tasty.” An answering hum of appreciation met her ears as Eddie continued lower. Without question or qualm, he nuzzled and nipped at her abundant flesh, his happy hands squeezing indulgently whenever she sighed out encouragement. And all Amanda could manage was a continuous begging cry of “Please, please Eddie, don’t, don’t stop, ok?”

Why would he? There was some addictive element, a chemical, an additive that laid across every inch of her body and he craved it. Couldn’t get enough. Landing somewhere between cinnamon sugar coating and honeyed dust, the flavor of her skin was exactly the thing he had been ravenous for his whole life long. There was no way in hell he’d stop searching it out, not when he found the source, “Not a chance, Mandy.” She felt his grip on the flimsy fabric of her panties, tense and twitchy. Hands slipped under the legband, cupping the expanse of her bottom in two palms before digging into the meat of her ass as Eddie’s nose pressed against the soaking gusset. His moan was the kind that shook mountains to their foundation. It created tidal waves that ravaged cities. For Amanda it twisted the knot of her need tight enough to snap, her thighs wanting desperately to slide shut, but falling further apart shamelessly, instead. There was no trepidation to the touches now. With a rough pull the cheap drug store underwear disintegrated, the scraps unneeded and unwanted any longer. Amanda didn’t have time to bother about it because Eddie’s hard working hands were parting her legs, holding her open and on display with the weight of his body. Chest heaving, he called to her, “Hey, look at me, baby. At me, Mandy.” “Yea?” She was a mess of lavender and lilac stains, streaked with spit and red wine colored bruises.�� But she was smiling, half-cocked, when her stare met his blown out pupils. “If you want me to uh, to stop, you gotta say it now.” Amanda did not. What she did was whine, low in her throat, as her cleft clenched around nothing, “Don’t stop.” “Just remember that I love you, yea?” Licking over her dry lips, rolling her hips under his strong hold, she nodded, “Love you too. Only you-”

The rest of her sentence remained unsaid as Eddie’s tongue licked right over her juicy center, circling the swollen firmness of her clit with expert precision. He wrapped his arms around her legs from beneath, keeping her parted for his pleasure as he lapped at the drooling opening between her lower lips. He wasn’t gentle as he moved Amanda’s thicker body closer, jerking her down and onto his waiting tongue over and over and over again. It was maddening to be pummeled by the slick wetness of his textured tongue, only deep enough to create more wanting, before he would flick the tip higher, aiming for the bull’s eye of her clitoris. Sloppy from excitement he swapped light licks for sucking. Drawing her pulsing pearl between his slick lips, eyes closed, enjoying the softer than silk sensation of her sweaty self, bow tight and at his mercy. He didn’t let up. Couldn’t. And when he felt the shaking in her muscles, Eddie took it as the invitation is it was, gliding two fingers into the pulsing tunnel of Amanda’s willing body.

She contracted around the invasion, her hands seeking a hold and finding it in the flowing strands of his mane. Wrenching him snuggly between her parted knees, she was dangerously close to losing control. Could already feel the tell-tale concentration of her energy drawing inward. The wetness that sluiced down the crack of her ass, the hummingbird fluttering of the muscles in her pelvis, the sticky press of Eddie’s cheek to her inner thigh. All of it webbing together, a thread winding tighter and tighter and tighter. And the rough texture of his fingers grazed her front wall exactly the right way. And he hummed out a laugh which puffed over her swollen lips exactly the right way. And the strings of her satisfaction snapped under the burden of his ceaseless passion. She must have made noise. Had to have, since her mouth moved at least. Falling open as the first flush of her orgasm gave way to a rolling tide of pleasure that broke through her in waves but she didn’t hear anything beyond the crashing pounding of her pulse. Fists full of Eddie’s hair fell away as all of Amanda’s bones turned to jelly, her tendons to jam, while she melted into the bed beneath. Pulling away from her, panting hotly into her dampness, through slick shiny cheeks he grinned cockily, “Sweeter than candy, Mandy. I knew you would be, fuck, and you-” he stopped talking to watch the way she accepted his intruding digits as deep as possible, bucking into the touch he offered wantonly despite just cumming, “-you just want more, don’t ya?” “Hmm, yea. Want wha-whatever you’ll give me.” Leaning up on her elbows she caught him licking her spend from his fingers before dipping right back into her, a devilish glint in his eyes. “Whatever I’ll give you, huh?” Eddie curled his fingers inside of her quivering core, stretching apart, taking up space, as his smoky voice purred, “You asked for it.” There was a flurry of sudden movement; he stood up fast, wiggling his hips until the heavy denim of his jeans hit the floor with a satisfying thump. His boxers dropped free in a flash. The bed dipped under his weight and before she could react, Eddie clasped a firm hand around each ankle and forced her knees back, nearly bending her in half. For him, the view was spectacular. The cro-magnon part of his brain flipped on, wanting only to take. Conquer. Consume. Who could blame him when he had his dream woman, his Moon Goddess, his Mandy, slick and spread out for him to feast on? The now painful stiffness of his hard on trembled at the sight. A patch of dark curls matted with pre-cum dotted his navel as the prolonged anticipation became too much to bear. Gripping himself, squeezing really, Eddie stroked over his cock, trembling as he asked, “Do you have a- a rubber?” Tossing her head, hair in tangles around her face, Amanda reached for him, “I’m on the pill.” For a second the heat abated and Eddie met her eyes, “Yea? That’s great fucking news.” “Have to be- Oh my GOD!” Rubbing the head of his dick between her folds, he slapped it into her overstimulated clit, cackling at her startled reaction, “Aw sweetheart, you don’t have to call me God. I’ll always answer to Ed-” But he bit off his sentence when he felt her hand glide over his shaft. If he was going to tease, so was she, “Fine, Ed- don’t keep me waiting, alright?” “Wouldn’t dream of it, baby. Wouldn’t dream of it.” Amanda’s back arched violently as her tender flesh parted around the thickness of Eddie’s erection. He notched into her slowly, rasping through held breaths, “You- you doing ok, Mandy?” Nodding was the only response she could give considering the ripples of pleasure already bubbling through her, but he pinched at the fat of her hip, “Need you to say it, Amanda. Tell me. Yea?”

And the last note was pleading, tender, which brought her back into herself long enough to whimper, “I’m doing ok, Eddie. Are- are you?”

He was struggling to be a gentleman, that was certainly true, and his gargoyle brain wanted to run amok but, “Yea, I’m fucking fantastic.” Laying her head back, exposing her neck, she managed to smile before sighing, “Good. That’s so good.” He groaned then, deep and rumbling, before rocking his hips forward. Seating himself down to the root, Amanda took everything he had inside her quaking core and damn, it was exquisite. To be surrounded by the yielding silver softness of her body, cool and clean, when his own was made of hard angles and rigid lines made Eddie want to howl. Wasn’t that what a wolf would do under the light of the full moon? And what of the moon? Did she reply to the lovesick creature, crying to the heavens?

Digging her heels into the beloved bed clothes for more traction, driving herself along his length so that he could know just how incredible it felt to be joined with him in this way, Amanda met him thrust for thrust. Ratcheting her own hips eagerly, moaning brokenly through every inhale, “More. I can take it. Please? Please.”

Her wolfman didn’t need to be asked twice. A hand palmed her thick ass, grinding her bones against his without withdrawing, seeking the untouched places deep inside with wet and warm and wild abandon. Dropping over her, he used his tongue to find her nipple, sucking harshly as if there was a way to taste her heart, her veins, her muscle and fascia. Lewdly. Rudely.

And she didn’t hold back. Her nails, sharper and painted a rosy color, scratched along his forearms, his shoulders, his back. Anywhere that could be reached, touched, marked as ruined by her hands as she struggled to hold fast through the pummeling, punishing pushes. Bejeweled rings snagged her hair as his hand curled around the nape of her neck, dragging his mouth to hers. Their tongues mimicked the movement of their lower halves; pushing, pulling, tangling together. And when the kiss became too much, the threatening rasp of teeth nipped at the bulge of his Adam’s Apple, his exposed throat too great a temptation to ignore.

For her effort, his moon was serenaded by a ceaseless chant of words such as “want” and “love” and “forever”. That his every uttered syllable was met with the sounds of her surrender; of her body, her mind, her soul, was not lost in translation. Eddie recognized what each utterance meant, a natural interpreter of the noises she emitted, and thought that a recording of her sexy sounds had the potential to climb the charts. Top 100 for sure- if he was even remotely willing to let anyone else hear the concert of their lovemaking. He wasn’t though. Not just because of the intimate nature of this particular show but because he was a selfish, selfish man. No one else should be allowed to hear the symphony that was their ode to an evening. She was beaming, could feel the radiant heat off of her own skin in the swell of her cheeks and burning through in patches where a bite mark or bruise might show in tomorrow’s light. Biting into her lip with a hum, she grinned, giddy and glowing under all the tender affection of being loved so well by Eddie. He was thorough, kissing and clinging in random places at random moments and her sex drunk brain couldn’t be bothered to keep up. Already pliant, no longer entirely in control of her movements, when the muscles of her right thigh let go, she didn’t fight it. Catching on the jutting crest of his hip like it belonged there, curled naturally around his waist, it trapped him tightly to her. The change in position was ruinous. Overwrought and overworked, she was going to cum again, and harder than the first time. When she spoke the words, punctuated by his quickening thrusts, his smile grew wolfishly wide. Gleeful at her stuttered announcement, praising her, “You feel so good, M-Mandy. S’ perfect.”

Amanda’s eyes rolled back in her skull, the powerful release pulling her under as her muscles stiffened, fighting against the rising tide before dropping into the pocket, waves of pleasure lapping against each other. Gasping, his name the only sound filling the still of the night, an incantation recited over and over again until her lungs burned from want of oxygen. Her’s wasn’t the scream of a porno actress from a secretly rented video, over dramatic and purposefully false. And maybe that’s why it hit Eddie right in the darkest depth of his heart. She wasn’t acting out her ecstasy. She couldn’t be faking the erratic pulsing rhythm of her orgasm as it spurred on his own. Slippery. Constricting. Lake bottom deep, he sunk himself further into her silk and let go with a moan, “Amanda-” Her arms wrapped around him. Legs too. And as he shuddered, a ragged breath blowing the sweat stuck strands of hair off his forehead, he felt the smallest nudge along his jaw. Tiny presses of her mouth, little mini kisses to his bicep, over his collar bone, and down the proud slope of his nose. “Hey you.” Giggling at the gangly guy situated between her knees, she bit her bottom lip, tilting her head in her signature sassy way, “Hey yourself.” Wiggling his hips slowly, still incredibly hard, he flashed Amanda a sheepish grin, “I’m almost afraid to, ya know, pull out. I think I- I made a mess.” Now she was outright laughing, “Oh really? You think so, huh?” “Shit, you have to stop that!” His jaw was clenched tight despite the lighthearted way he spoke. Every nerve ending was raw, receiving too much stimuli, but he wasn’t ready for it to end. Didn’t really want to separate and go back to being two people, two bodies, two hearts.

Innocently asked, Amanda’s eyebrows crinkled in confusion, “What?” “Laughing! You’re still- ah! You’re still squeezing me!” But that only made her laugh harder, “I’m so sorry! But, you’re pretty fucking funny after sex!” “Is that so, little missy?” And that’s when Eddie leaned up, making to kiss her, but licking a thick stripe up her cheek at the last second that made her squirm and squeal in mock disgust. Easing himself free, a trickle of wetness following, Eddie pressed his forehead to hers, “If I’m pretty fucking funny then you’re just fucking pretty.” If it hadn’t struck her before, it hit her with the force of a baseball bat now; her lover was beautiful. Even with limited light illuminating his sweaty skin, he was glowing and her heart thumped at the image before her. Eddie, her Eddie, with his bangs sticking to his forehead, tacky with sweat from the exertion of fucking her so hard, happy and melty at the edges like a really good grilled cheese sandwich. “I love you.” Laying his head on her chest, sighing like a young girl with a crush, he answered, “I love you.” He didn’t say “I love you, too.” There was no “too” about it. He knew how he felt, in his heart, in his body, in his mind. And even with the cloudiness of a great orgasm hazing his thoughts, Eddie felt the truth in it. Groaning in protest, she made to move to get up, to leave the bed, but he stopped her, “Tell me where I can get a towel, alright?” “I can get up, Eddie.”

He shook his head sending his sweat soaked waves into the air, “Yea, you can, but I don’t want you to, ok? So, bathroom? Where can I find it?” She extended her hand lazily, pointing, “First door on the right. It has a toilet and a tub, so you know, can’t miss it.” Pushing up on his hands and knees, Eddie thudded to the floor on heavy feet. Turning to bow, naked as the day he was born, using a put on cockney accent, “Yes m’lady! Right away! Your faithful servant won’t let you down!” Her sparkling laugh chased him down the hallway.

Not much later, when water had been shared from a jelly glass with Tom & Jerry running around the rim and the damp, once warm towel used for cleaning up had been chucked into the hamper, Eddie thumped his head back against the headboard. His body lax as he drew Amanda closer, “I gotta say, Mandy. Thought you said you were new to all this, had me thinking I was going to need to show you how it’s done, but you just, ya know, rocked my world.” His kiss was affectionate, playful even, without the fevered heat of desire burning it to ash. Shifting up to her elbow, head in her hand, eyes heavy but watchful, “I’m not a virgin. I’ve, ya know, had sex before.” That was news to him. Not that he would stake his life on it, but there had been a conversation about experience over patty melts and paper napkins. About newness. About being without skill or practice. “But-” Flopping forward, her head laid on his sweat cooled chest, cheek squished against his zombie tattoo, “I wasn’t lying to you, if that’s what you think. I just- I haven’t dated much but, this-” she waved a hand taking in the bed, the room, the nakedness, “-I’ve done this a few times before.” He rolled onto his side, scooching lower so he could see her better, his warm hand finding a home along the expanse of Amanda’s ribs and rubbing continuously, “I know my head is still a little fuzzy after all the great lovin’ and all but, uh, I’m not sure I’m following.” Blowing out a breath that sounded something like frustration, she shrugged, “Guys take me to bed but not to dinner. I’m not, ya know, girlfriend material, I suppose. It’s like, I’m good enough to make out with, especially if it makes some other, prettier, thinner girl jealous.” Her mouth twisted up, not really a frown but a far cry from the sweet smile Eddie had come to appreciate. She was staring through him, seeing images made of memory, “Good enough to- to fool around with in the dark. Places where no one would see, like under the bleachers or behind a dumpster. But take me to a restaurant? A movie? Out with friends or family? No way. “And I’m always so-” she rolled her eyes, trying to find the right word, “-I don’t know, needy? Desperate maybe? That a guy pretending to be interested could offer me kisses in corners or bathroom stalls where no one would ever think to look and I do it. Gladly. Because even their half assed affection is better than nothing, right?” But Amanda didn’t wait for Eddie to answer, carrying on with an edge in her voice, “If I touch them, let them touch me, then they’ll give me what I want. Flowers and romance and, and-” he heard the way her throat caught, a strangled sound shaking through her as she finished, “-love.” Tossing her head, she banished a wayward tear, smiling thinly at her man’s silhouette in the muted light, “Now though, I’m here, with you. A guy who sees me, all of me. You see me and you don’t make me feel bad about who I am. How I look. You see me, and, and you like me even in broad daylight. And no one’s ever done that before. I mean, you already brought me around your friends. Your family.” Her emphasis on the last word not lost on him and neither was the twinge of pride in her voice at how she said it. “Amanda-” He wanted to reach out, reassure her, but she shook him off. There was more to say, more to tell and for the first time in a long time, she wanted to share her thoughts with someone. Not someone. Eddie.

Swallowing, she looked up at him, comfortable and relaxed under her threadbare bedsheet, “You wanted to know what happened tonight? When I was at practice?” Maybe there was something in her voice that gave her away. He could tell that this was uncharted territory for his Moon woman, taking her out of her depth, a thing difficult to share. Maybe he also realized that something was shifting, something important, so he bobbed his head, locking her fingers with his, “Yea, but only if you wanna tell me. There’s no pressure, you know that, right?” Nodding, Amanda sat up now, pinning the sheet under her arms so that it covered most of her breasts. Her hair was a knotted mess, wild and untamed, but she was lit from within. Eddie felt as though she was worthy of sculpture, ready to be captured for all time in alabaster stone or graying quartz. Some Italian master should be committing the image before him into marble. The combination of fragility and strength on display was overwhelming even if the underlying hurt etched in her face made Eddie’s chest ache. “I know and that’s kind of why I want to tell you.” It was an admission of trust, of respect, and another stunning example of how strong her feelings truly were. With a small gesture encouraging her to go on, Amanda inhaled sharply, “Right. So, tonight, at rehearsal? Mark, you know my drummer- uh, the drummer? He was being the biggest asshole. To everyone, not just me. Really picking on us all, which was weird. ‘Cause normally he’s kinda, well-” Stepping on her sentence, Eddie finished with a shit eating grin, “Steady?” “Oh, that was bad, even for you.” She groaned at the ill timed, but sort of hilarious drumming joke. Lifting his hands, signaling his apology, she tilted her head thoughtfully, “Anway, he said some stuff and-” That made Eddie sit up too, his legs folding and taking the blankets with them, “Wait, he said something about you or about me?” “Um-” her fingers fiddled with the fabric, eyes avoiding his baleful brown orbs for the first time all night. Not a great sign. “If it’s about me, no problem. I can handle that, Mandy. Hell, I’ve been handling that shit my whole life. But you? Baby-” Eddie cupped her chin in his hand, forcing her to look at him, “-You don’t deserve that shit.” “About us both, I guess.” Her shoulders lifted in a shrug, “Mark was, well, he was angry. At me. Said that I sounded ‘desperate’ when I was singing the other night, that I was ‘begging for a man’ like- like some kind of tramp or something when I was singing to you.” Holy shit, was he struggling right now. With every other word Amanda uttered, Eddie’s blood ran like frigid November rain, in icy sheets that burned or in magma hot lava-like flows that scorched his heart from rage. Luckily he was hiding it well.

Going for cool, casual even, he cast about asking, “So, uh, what else did Mark have to say?” With a guilty gulp, she went on, “A lot. And he kept running his mouth so much, too much, really. It’s just- I thought he was my friend, you know?” And honest to god, her chin shook as she held back the tears her emotional meridian begged to release, her voice going warbly with the effort, “But in the end, he was just like the guys at school, the boys back home. Wanted the- the thrill of being with a girl like me, a big girl, and thought I should be-” in a barely heard whisper she trailed off, “-grateful for his attention.” Now, young Mr. Munson had spent time as an angry juvenile. The world and the way it worked had done its level best to beat him down over and over again. Before the interdimensional trauma that left him scarred and scared, he had trained himself to live and let live, a philosophy that he was pretty certain had saved his life on more than one occasion. But hearing the way she spoke about Mark, a dude she knew and trusted, filled him with a furious anger so white hot that he almost could not believe that smoke wasn’t spilling out of his ears like in a Bugs Bunny cartoon. It didn’t seem like the darling at his side noticed when his unoccupied hand closed in a tight fist that he was currently imagining ramming right through the skin of a bass drum directly into the sternum of Mark, as if he might bend the laws of physics and somehow be able to beat the shit out of this asshole from the safety of Amanda’s bed.

Because, like, who the fuck did this guy think he was? She wasn’t crying, not outright, but was sad about the circumstances all the same. And from the pure desire to make his woman feel better, he snorted hotly, “Fucking dipshit. He’s the one that should be grateful.” “What?” “I said, this Mark person, he’s the one that should be grateful to even, ya know, know you” he added, tugging that self protective strand of hair down and over his mouth. Starting at a mumble that grew stronger the longer he talked, Eddie’s stare locked on Amanda’s, “Look, I already told you how I feel. And, even if we weren’t, ya know, together, I’d still be thankful that you’re in my life. You are something special, Amanda Patterson. Something-” and then he couldn’t resist any longer, dragging a finger down her cheek until he could tip her chin up, those bright eyes searching his own, “-out of this world. A treasure.” Rewarded with a wry shake of head and rolled wet eyes, Eddie carried on, “Honestly, thank fuck.” She sniffled a bit, asking through a thick throat, “What’s that supposed to mean?” His pink lips screwed up in a crooked smirk that scrunched his nose cutely, “It means, sweetheart, that those-” rings glinting the gloom, his hand flailed dramatically, “-dumbasses didn’t know they had struck gold when they met you. Lucky for you, I know the good shit when I see it.” Deflating visibly, she huffed, “Gold plated is probably more accurate.” It was meant to be lighthearted. A little self deprecating, sure, but wasn’t it easier to make the joke then become one? “Hey, don’t do that.” He caught her cheeks in a grip which was firm while his voice cotton soft, “I’m not joking around. Not about this. Not about you.” She didn’t move, frozen in place by the sincerity he was forcing her to accept. Whispering into the quiet night, a hardly spoken rush of words, but he heard them all the same, “I’m nothing special, Eddie.” A fever of frustration climbed through him at that midnight confession. The worst part was how truly she believed what she said, that there was nothing special about her, no reason for Mark’s misplaced interest or his own adoration. That somehow she didn’t deserve Eddie’s praise, his attention, even his love, was all layered into that one sentence. “Mandy, don’t you ever talk that way about the person I love. Never again.” It was his gently uttered warning. “But, Eddie-” she wanted to argue the point, make a case for being less than. Shifting quickly, he caught her around the bare expanse of her shoulders, “If I have to say it everyday, for the rest of your life, I will Mandy. You’re amazing.” A kiss, hungry and scalding, melded their mouths together, “You are so fucking sexy.” Lips traced the line of her jaw, moving upward, “And I haven’t felt, well, whatever this is, ever before.” Even if her mind wasn’t quite convinced, Eddie’s nearness coupled with the sultry kisses and his heartfelt words had made her body a believer. She smoothed a hand along his straight spine, her forehead tapping his own, “I imagine you say that to all the ladies you take to bed.” A warm, happy laugh rumbled through Eddie at her smart ass comment. Pulling back, needing to see her eyes, “I’m going to be real honest with you, alright? Put it all on the line, k?” When she agreed with a short nod, he continued, “You may think that I do this sorta thing all the time- pick up chicks and service them until the sun comes up, until they uh, scream my name into the night- but I don’t.” Tilting her head, really looking him over, she shook her own, her teasing edged with something harder, “You’re telling me that you don’t seduce the housewives who bring their cars in for oil changes? Or, or, um, bang groupies after a good show at The Hideout?” “Me? No way. Not a chance. Reputation ruiner, remember? So I can tell you with 100 percent certainty that you are in my, my top 3, all time. Easy.” Mindlessly, Eddie started tracing stars into the skin of her thighs, consciously avoiding her piercing stare. But now she was curious, a small smile pulling at the corners of her mouth, her eyebrows lifted, “Out of how many?” Yanking his hair forward, Eddie snickered, still bashful, “Um, out of three. But, uh, out of those three, you’re my number one. No question about it.” The grin he flashed her was so deep, his cheeks aching from smiling so widely, that Amanda had no choice but to giggle too, “Number one, you said?” Reaching for her hand, linking their fingers together before nudging her closer, he corrected her gently, “Uh huh, you’re my number one. Best I ever had.”

“What are you doing to me, Eddie Munson?” It was rhetorical, obviously, but it had to be asked even if she was unable to keep the tendril of truth out of her voice. Because this conversation was powerful enough to capsize her, she realized too late to stop it from happening. If he was going to sink her ship, she was going to have to grow gills or drown trying. Otherwise she was never going to survive being cared for by the romantic rockstar in training who was taking up half her bedspread. Scrunching his eyes as he bit into his bottom lip, Eddie hemmed, “I’m uh, watching out for you. Tryin’ to be a knight or a, a paladin.” Rubbing his thumb in patient circles against the back of her hand, a little lost in his thoughts, “Want to be who and what you need, Mandy, because, yea, you deserve that.” “And what do you deserve?” That drew him up short as she freed her hands so she could skate them over his exposed chest, “‘Cause I think you deserve things too. Like someone to love you back. Someone who hears you-” rising to her knees, she scooted a leg over his waist, bracketing his body between her dimpled thighs, “-and your terrible jokes but still laughs anyway. Someone who appreciates you for all the wonderful and wild things that make you, well, you.” She punctuated her sentence with a bop on the tip of his broad nose. His mouth was dry but his betraying eyes were damp as he cleared his throat roughly, hands already resting on the full rise of her hips, “Is uh, is that so, Miss Mandy?” “Totally.” She pulled one of his hands away, the lined and creased side facing her before pressing her lips to its very center. Covering it with her own she held it against the smooth expanse of her sternum, directly on top of her beating heart. Swallowing thickly, unable to look away, he asked, “Maybe I’ve found her?” Bare and unashamed, leaning into his space, her sleek slit skimming his slowly solidifying length made his cheeks burn hotly as she rocked her hips back. Nodding, she looked down at him, purring, “Maybe you have.” Grinding down, her full weight holding him to the mattress, to the earth, he thanked whatever deity was closest for this brilliant, beautiful creature with the enchanting voice and bewitching eyes full of shining devotion. Whatever she was before didn’t matter to him or the gargoyle who guarded his own thumping mess of a heart in its crumbling tower. Amanda Patterson was his now, and he’d be damned before letting her go.

—

1990 - Fall

“Let’s hear it once again for Mandy and the Maniacs!” All around her the crowd went ballistic. Shouting, screaming, stomping, clapping noise filled the bar where the band, her band had taken the stage with the hope of making it through one more round. One step closer to fortune and fame and everything that goes with it. Based on the deafening roar of this particular crowd, Amanda had high hopes. Fuck, but she wanted to win 1991’s Battle of the Bands. Prove that she was good enough to make it on the strength of her own abilities, on the unflagging determination of her dream to sing for a living, and do it on her own. So she was smiling through the tears of happiness that filled her eyes, blinking rapidly as she committed the raucous riotous scene below her into her memory banks as the emcee was thrusting a plastic trophy complete with a fake gold guitar glued to the top into her sweaty hand, “Congratulations to our winners! And don’t forget that you can see Mandy and the band here at Stingers every Friday night. Doors open at 10pm!”

— “Good show tonight, Mandy. You know, you guys are really going places.” Amanda toweled off the grimy sweat from being under too hot stage lights and the melted mascara that always found a way to slip down her face after a show, grinning broadly, “Thanks Davey. We all appreciate your hosting and, of course, having us back week after week.” “Can’t have a rock bar with no music, that’d be like having a peanut butter sandwich without jelly. Just doesn’t taste right, ya know?” Laughing politely, she nodded, “I think I get what you mean.” And before he could ask again, Carly slid up to her side, “Ready to load in the gear?” A thankful expression crossed her face as she looked at her friend, still sweaty and streaked herself, “Yes ma’am. Hey-” leaning in to shake Davey’s hand, Amanda’s black mesh fingerless glove pressing designs into his palm as she added, “-again, thank you for tonight.” “It’s always a pleasure, Mandy. Uh, is there any chance you might wanna grab a dri-” Swinging a microphone case onto her shoulder, her back to the bar’s owner, Amanda answered swiftly, “Have a good night, Davey.” When they were in the chilly night air, sans jackets or even clothes that were close to appropriate for the weather in Indiana during an early cold snap, Carly lit up a cigarette, smirking, “He asked you again, huh?” Taking the flaming stick of death from her friend, Amanda took one, tiny puff, the smallest possible because her voice was still her best instrument, and lifted her heavily made-up eyes, “Was trying to, I think.” “Could it hurt?” Carly ashed the butt quickly, staring at the bumper of the broken-in mini-van that they used to lug amps and instruments in, purposefully avoiding Amanda’s bewildered look. Toeing at the slushy puddle that gathered around the back tire, her big black boots with neon laces keeping her away from the muck, she considered it. Would it hurt to let Davey buy her a drink? No, probably not. As a general rule, a single drink was not enough to hurt someone, but it was what came after that stalled her in her tracks. From under a jagged line of self cut bangs, Amanda tilted her head at her friend, one eye squeezed shut while the other stared dead on, “Eventually, yea. Yes it could. And not for nothing but I’m too toxic for anyone right now.” “That’s horseshit and you know it.” Carly flicked the used filter of her cigarette with a flourish, her shirt sleeves swinging at the effort. Laying back against the frozen metal of the van, Amanda shivered, “Come on, don’t fuck with me, ok? It’s been a good night. Great even. Let’s not fight about Davey and drinks that I’m not going to let him buy.” Kicking at the rims now, Carly grumbled, “You need to get laid.” “Fuck you, I do not!” This time her friend’s pretty pouting face found hers under the parking lot’s hazy yellow lights, “You do and so goddamn badly. It’s been what, like two years since Ed-” “Don’t say it.” Exhaling wickedly, anger heating up her sigh, Carly jumped right into her diatribe, “I can’t even say his name, Amanda. What is that about? Are you ever gonna, I don’t know, get over him? Go out with someone else? Let another person stick their fucking tongue down your fucking throat?” And when she didn’t reply, Carly pressed on, ranting into the empty night air, “Or are you going to die on this hill? Because ‘I once loved Ed-” she shifted her focus to Amanda before softening up, “-a, a future rockstar who broke my heart when he left this town and me behind’ is not going to fit on your tombstone, sis.” Toying with the van keys, their metal ring going cold in her hands, Amanda shrugged. She was tired all the way down to her soul. Tired of being tired. Tired of grinding so hard for the things she wanted. Tired of Carly being mostly, sort of, almost totally right. Tired of being alone. Tired of missing a man with a name she couldn’t bear to hear. And yea, ok, she would absolutely own that her sad sack routine was going stale. She bored herself most days, honestly. But what was the point in letting Davey or any other person buy her a drink and think they stood any kind of chance when Amanda Patterson no longer had a heart to give? Nope. Like the Tin-Man, she was kept alive by electrical impulses managed by some other organ because she’d lost her heart in 1988. The year Corroded Coffin was discovered through Carly’s college radio station connections. The same year a mid-western county fair tour was planned. The year that took him away for the big life he was always supposed to lead. The year that took her heart and never looked back. “Hell. Give me a smoke, would ya?”

“‘Manda. You don’t like cigarettes.” Carly taunted in a sing-song voice. Shrugging, sad and cold, she waved her friend on with a uselessly gloved hand, “Maybe I do now.” And when she took her first full inhalation a thought moved through the neural pathways of her brain. It might kill her, in the end, smoking, drinking or whatever, but she then, had been dead inside for a lot longer. Besides, there was no one watching out for her now. No one to disappoint. No one to worry.

Her lungs burned and the back of her throat protested, but Amanda smiled warmly in the cold night, “Thanks Carly.” Blowing out a held breath, the shorter girl rolled her eyes, “Fuck, you’re dramatic. Just like him. You know that right?” Her chuckle was hollow, raspy because of the smoking, “Uh huh. I do.” Dropping the burnt paper to the ground she stomped on it with the toe of her boot, unlocking the car, “Wanna get the fuck outta here?” “Yea. Let’s go home.”

—

1987

Morning light cast the entire room in a golden glow that was entirely too ethereal to be real. Only it was. It had to be, because Amanda was laying on her side, the plush padding of her bum tucked against Eddie’s bare pelvis, as she slept peacefully in his arms.

Now that his eyes were open there were things he needed to do: take a piss, take a shower, get some food in his body that did not come out of a cardboard box and get to work. Except he’d be leaving this downy nest of a bed and the warmth of a very willing body to do any of it. So, yea, Eddie didn’t want to do that, not even a little bit.

The alarm clock said seven thirty six, and if his bedtime math was accurate, he could stay until 8 o’clock. Any later and he’d be in deep shit with, well, virtually everyone. Why did it have to be Friday morning? How come he had bedded his dream woman on a Thursday night, mid-week, knowing there were still responsibilities on the horizon?

As if she could sense that he was awake, she shifted her figure flush with his, and there was no way to hide his morning wood. There was also no way she could not feel it pressing insistently at the small of her back. He swallowed his spit, curling Amanda closer, and shut his eyes. Eddie could manage the morning after. He absolutely could.

“Mmm, morning.”

Sleep stained and supple, Amanda started to roll his way but he stopped her with a kiss to her shoulder blade, “Uh, maybe don’t.” “Wha? Oh. Oh.” And saucy minx that she was, she stretched her body so that his erection rubbed over the silken skin of her bottom. Groaning from way down deep in his chest, Eddie chided, “You’re a tease.” “You’re too easy.” She was on her back now, head turned his way, outlined in the pale yellow rays of morning light. His heartbeat sped up at the coy look she flashed from under her lashes. Amanda wanted Eddie and in spite of the hard work he’d put in last night, he wanted her again too. Dipping a hand under the filmy sheet, his fingernails scraped the swell of her hip, when the alarm clock clicked to 7:45 and began buzzing obnoxiously. “Shit!” Scrambling up, Amanda hit the digital display’s off button, silencing the sound. Slumping into herself, she looked his way with a frowny face, “I have class at 9.” “I’ve got work, myself.” It was a guilty admission, no matter how true. Nodding, Amanda bit into her bottom lip, “Then I guess-” “We both have to go?” They spoke over each other. Whatever easy energy they had shared was taut now, stressed and strained but neither one moved. Neither one really wanted to. Except a new day was started, one with expectations for Amanda and Eddie alone. Still, she had to ask, hand twisting in the stray strands of her hair, “Will I, uh- um, maybe you can-” So Eddie took pity on his girl, lifting her hand to his lips chastely, “Are you trying to say that you wanna see me again? Like, tonight?” “Do- uh, do you want that?” She was barely suppressing her hope, struggling to keep her expectations of Eddie in check, regardless of all his pretty words when the lights were low. Thrusting out his little finger, Eddie wiggled it quickly, “Well, yea, of course I do. Promise.” Linking them together, a chuffed out giggle escaped her pouty lips when he swung their hands like that, childlike and silly. He used his leverage to drag her to his chest, a kiss landing on her nose, on each cheek, and finally her parted mouth. They let go reluctantly when her alarm rang again, this time marking the hour as 8. “Shit. I really, really, have to go.” Eddie swung his leg over the side of the bed giving Amanda a phenomenal view of his bare ass as he crisscrossed the room searching out his clothes. Too easily the boy stepped into his jeans, forgoing his underwear, she noticed, and shrugging back into his tee. Hugging her knees, she could only watch, conflicting thoughts filling her head. Her body was sore in the best possible way because of all that they had gotten up to last night. She knew she’d be thinking of him all day, anytime she shifted in her seat or caught sight of the purple markings that littered her neck and chest. And she definitely wanted to do this- do him, again. Without question, Eddie Munson was phenomenal in the sack. But now he was leaving, and she understood it, alright? She had shit to do herself. Because it was a weekday and she paid so much for school and the music shop was letting her pick up a shift… Only, she wanted to linger in bed with her very cute and very sexy lover at her side. Maybe get to lick his hardest parts, or, his softest. Maybe get him to lick her again and again and again. “Don’t?” Amanda hadn’t planned to say it out loud, but there it was, echoing around her quiet room. A pleading question spoken from the depths of her heart, pushing pause on the guy in the middle of pulling up his socks, seated primly on the corner of her bed. Shocked by her own actions, her eyes rounded as she backpedaled, “I mean, I know you have to and, and I have to, but that doesn’t mean I want you to- to go. Ya know? Last night was like-” she breathed out, willing herself not to get emotional even if she could feel the cold prickle of tears in the back of her throat, “-really special, for me at least. And-” letting her eyes find Eddie’s coffee colored eyes, finished, “-I don’t want to say goodbye.” Blinking a couple of times, taking a beat, he wanted to get his answer right. “Who says we have to say goodbye?” “You’re leaving.” Reaching for his boots, smile wide and shining under his mass of waves, “Uh huh. But-” yanking the laces hard, he grinned her way, “-I’m coming back.” “Are you though?”

He cut off any other protests, standing quickly and walking around to her side of the bed. Amanda had her feet planted on the floor, her sheet barely covering her most private of places, as she lifted her fretful face in his direction. Voice tighter than he wanted, shoulders tenser than they should be, Eddie looked down at this woman who had come to mean so much to him so quickly. One ring clad finger tripped down the hill of her nose, “Shit, Mandy, I’m probably losing all my cool guy street credit when I say this, but, uh, this thing-” using his thumb under her chin, the skin there yielding to his even pressure, “-You and me? This. It fucking scares me-” She had the audacity to look surprised, those beguiling eyes going wide from the raw honesty he was showing, that tilt to her head more pronounced as she nervously whispered, “I- I scare you?” “No! Shit, that’s not- I meant-” recovering quickly but feeling much shyer now, he tried to explain, “How I feel about you, I mean. How much I care- it’s a lot. For me, it’s everything.” With the sound of knees cracking, he dropped into a squat so that he was looking up at Amanda’s face, not the other way around.

“Oh.” her gaze softened shifting her focus until it landed on something far away, her mind working fast. Loving her was already a burden. Already too much to ask of a guy like Eddie, so wild and carefree. And the realizations stung. Maybe she didn't have a night to remember after all. Maybe her knight in shining armor didn’t see her the way she imagined. Maybe he wasn’t who she thought he was, after all. And her brain would have kept on running in ragged circles of self doubt if Eddie hadn’t nudged against her parted thighs, “Hey, Mandy? Come back to me, yea?” “Sorry, I- uh-” steeling herself, her back stiffened, her smile slipping, “-Look. We don’t have to do this. I get it, Eddie. And, ya know-” those eyes were back on him, sadder now, holding him still, “-we don’t have to do whatever this is. Not now. Not, ya know, ever. I understand how this works, ok?” Despite his nearness she started to push off the mattress. It was too difficult to sit there thinking he was afraid of her, of having feelings for her, of being with her. Convinced that he probably wasn’t going to touch her again, that she couldn’t have him or his love for more than one night, no matter what he said or what promises were left unfulfilled was a punch in the gut- leveling.

Shame burned through her because she should have known better. It was all too good to be true like any other fairytale. A story. A fantasy. And she had to go, right now, because she wasn’t going to allow him to see so down and out. Straightening her arms, rocking forward, she was ready to get away, to bolt. But she didn’t get far. Fingers dug into her leg, holding her fast, delaying her escape, “Damn it. That isn’t- that isn’t what I said, Amanda.” Eddie’s voice was pitched low- dark and rumbling like the growing thunder of a terrible storm. It locked her in place even if she couldn’t bear to meet his eyes, terrified that she’d find pity or some other weakening emotion on his stupid, loving, handsome face. A violent vermillion flash of fury surged through her, spewing caustic, cutting sarcasm from her pursed lips, “No? Because that’s what I heard, Eddie. I heard you say that you’re scared to- to, to be with me.”

“Wrong.” “Excuse me?” “I said that you’re wrong. Even though you are so smart, right now? Sweetheart, you are 100 percent, entirely and utterly wrong here. What frightens me, Mandy-” his hands slipped around her waist as, falling to his knees in front of her, he carried on, “isn’t that I’m afraid to be with you. I’m afraid to be without you. I’m terrified that you won’t want to be with me.” Holding onto to her steely edge, glaring now, she swung another verbal dagger, “Why wouldn’t I want to be with you?” “Fuck, Mandy. Take your pick-” Counting on his fingers, the list started, “-former mega-nerd with a talent for collecting little lost souls and ensuring their survival through high school.” A second finger went up, “Uh, lead singer of a regionally successful rock band full of said misfits that hasn’t had its big break yet.” A third, “The best damn Dungeon Master in the state of Indiana, if I say so myself.” Little finger, number four bent slightly, “Oh, not to mention I’m crisscrossed with scars from North to South no matter how great the tattys look and-” his thumb jumped, spreading his palm open wide, “-not that many years ago I watched a person I cared about get murdered which, ya know, messes a guy up pretty damn good. “On the plus side? Let’s see, I’ve got great friends, my totally bitchin’ guitar, a halfway decent van, and I’ve finally met a girl that I fucking love. But, shit, maybe she doesn’t feel like I do?” And now he let his cinnamon eyes burn into hers, really revved up and showing no signs of stopping, “Maybe she just says pretty things when I’m making her cum and afterwards, well, she wants to be with some other dude. Someone like Mark who’s gonna make something of himself? Steady as fuck and boring to boot. Someone who doesn’t love her like I do, because they don’t get it, they can’t love her like me. How could they when they don’t get how my world spun off its axis when she jumped into my arms at the goddamned music shop. Or how-” Her cheeks flushed at the memory, the moment when this love affair began, and she felt herself smiling wide, the momentary rage ebbing almost as quickly as it started. Cutting him off, she cupped his jaw with firm fingers, “I do! I promise you, I-I understand. And, and I feel the same way. Haven’t been able to get you out of my head since you seduced me into a dance in the sheet music aisle.”

“You’re the one who fell into me, Mandy.” Airy like a summer’s breeze, Amanda countered, “You tripped me.” Scoffing, he settled his weight on the balls of his feet, “So you do remember then?” “Of course I do. And that’s why I didn’t want you to go. If- if you leave today and never come back, what’ll I do, Eddie?” She had nuzzled into the unshaven haven of his neck, just below his ear, and was keening like a fitful kitten, “Now that I have you, I don’t want anybody else. I only want to be with you. Only you.” Exhaling harshly, pulling her forehead to his, he husked, “Sad to say, darling, but you may be stuck with me.” Only he didn’t sound sad at all. Neither did she when she moved a hand to either cheek, a dreamy smile on her face, “Yea? You mean it?” “Of fucking course I do. And to prove it, come to my show tonight?” “Like, seriously? Because I would really love to see you play.” The alarm toned again, 8:15am. But fuck it, he could be late to the garage if meant seeing Amanda grin at him like this- all excited and eager, “Hell yea! You can meet the guys and see what all the fuss is about when Corroded Coffin hits the stage.” Nerves jangled, she bit into her lip, worry creeping into her tone, “And you wouldn’t mind me being there? Like, that wouldn’t be, I don’t know, embarrassing for you?”

His head fell back far enough for the tendons of his neck to stretch, the bulge of his Adam’s apple tantalizingly close, while his stare locked on hers, “Embarrassing? No. Hell no. I’d be honored to have you there, cheering me on.”

“You’re not messing with me, are you?” She raised her eyebrows playfully, giving him the out if he wanted to take it. And that same anger at Mark, at all the idiot guys who had hurt her flared up briefly, but he tramped it down like a lid on a grease fire, reassuring her again, “No way. I want you there. Need you there, Mandy. Besides-” that impish grin was back, “-it’s only fair. I saw you perform, now I get to return the favor.” Her mind was working, spinning his words around in her head faster than an unbalanced washing machine, as she processed what Eddie was saying. When she finally came to a conclusion, Amanda nodded decisively, “Yea, ok. I’ll come. I-I’ll be there.” Pressing up to his feet, Eddie beamed down at her, “Sweet. But, now I really gotta split, ok?” She raised her chin, the permission for a kiss implicit in the action and he took advantage. It was so easy to get lost in the flavor and feeling of her lips under his or the slide of his tongue over her own. In the end, she had to push him away, breathless and begging, “Yea, go on. Get lost, Munson.”

Groaning, he stomped towards her door, “Fine. Fine. I’m going.” Pleased and purring, Amanda stretched out along her bed, her head already thinking of the night to come when Eddie’s face appeared in her doorway again, “Oh, hey. Don’t forget that you’re banging the lead guitarist and front man of the band, k? You gotta look the part so uh-” he took in the room at a glance, “-no pretty flower prints or whatever.” “You came back just to tell me that?” His hands rested against the pale wooden door frame as he stepped back through it, “Yes. And this-” it took three running steps before he launched himself onto the mattress and landed as gently as he could with her pinned underneath him. Her hands caught on the tangles still knotting his hair, dragging his mouth to hers, whimpering into the wet cave of his mouth. So Eddie was an hour late to work and Amanda missed her first class. Worse things had happened in the name of new love.

—

1990 - Winter

“Well, it was a great night! To Mandy and the Maniacs-” The ladies clinked their bottles together in celebration, stilted happiness filling the air around them. The founding members of their female fronted metal band had come home exhilarated and exhausted, ready to unwind, share post-show snacks and celebrate their advancement to the Battle of the Bands finals. It had been another grueling show but they had done what they meant to: melt the faces off the audience and get another step closer to that Big Win in the new year.

MTV was on in the background, as it always was when they weren’t practicing or writing or recording, and the videos on Headbangers Ball were always welcome at the end of a long Saturday filled with rocking. Rick Rachtman was talking about some up and coming band as Amanda crunched on a cheese ball, barely listening.

If Carly was tired, Amanda was wired, her mind still on tonight’s crowd and what it was going to take to win it all in a few weeks. Already she was in her head, planning what their set was going to be, which songs were the most likely to sway the ever growing swell of music lovers standing shoulder to shoulder when they played.

That's when she heard a ghost, a breathing memory of the apparition who haunted her still. His familiar cadence filtering through her television speakers jerked her from her thoughts, a voice she knew better than her own- “Holy shit. Is that- Is that Eddie? Your Eddie?” Carly sat forward, the electric blue glow of the set outlining the surprise on her face. The banishment of a certain man’s name forgotten in the excitement of said man’s picture on the television. Her beer bottle thunked to the table clumsily, “What? Eddie?” Amanda hadn’t said his name in over two years. Around the time when the walls around her head and heart had gone up, and thankfully all of her friends knew better than to bring up that sensitive subject. Or at least were willing to honor her wishes that the rocker in question never be spoken of in her presence. But fucking hell if Carly wasn’t right. There on the illuminated idiot box that was her twenty inch screen was Eddie Fucking Munson himself and the rest of Corroded Coffin, talking to Chuck Stillman about their tour. Answering questions for the fans to get to know them better and helping sell their metal image. “Did you know about this?” It was shock which filled Carly’s tone and Amanda felt a little bit guilty because of course she did. She still talked to Steve, saw Robin from time to time, and even taught Mike Wheeler some guitar basics a year or so ago.

When she didn’t answer, her very best good friend Carly leveled her with a sideways glance, “You did, didn’t you?” Shrugging, her go-to move these days, she grabbed the cable box’s remote and goosed up the volume. It really fucking sucked to see how good Eddie looked, all in black leather and mesh lace, with his guitar pick necklace centered on his bare chest, tattoos barely visible but she knew they were there. Could draw them from memory, if she really wanted to. And his curls! They were styled expertly, shiny and bouncy, making Amanda’s hands itch at the memory of them clutched between her fingers. Through the tinny speakers they heard Chuck’s question, “So, the people want to know, what is Eddie Munson’s favorite song?” There was a pause and if she didn’t know Eddie so well, she wouldn’t have seen it, but his eyes lost their twinkle for a second and his smile dropped the teensiest bit as he replied, “My favorite song? That’s a great question, man. And, uh, ya know, I wanna say something hard rocking and fast. But honestly? Someone to Watch Over Me by the Gershwin brothers.”

“SHUT UP!” Carly smacked a hand into her arm, “He’s talking about you! That night, in the park! Holy shit, Eddie Munson, rock star rising, is talking about you, 'Manda! On MTV!” And wouldn’t that be something, she thought, sinking back into her second hand sofa. Him sparing the time to think about her at all these days seemed like such a shot in the dark, such a foreign concept, that she reckoned it wasn’t even a possibility. There was no way he gave as much of his day to thoughts of her, to their time together as she did, right?

No. Not possible. That he answered the basic question with the title of her favorite song, the song that meant so much to them both, didn’t mean a goddamned thing. Not anymore. “I don’t think so, Carl. I think you’re reading too much into things.” Sitting back, her own beer held tight, Carly rolled her eyes at friend, prickly at having her fun ruined, “What if he was?” “Huh?” “What if Eddie was thinking about you? After these last couple of years, what if he- what if he misses you too? It is possible.” Huffing out a derisive laugh, she tapped a finger against the nearly empty bottle of Budweiser, using the sassiest tone of voice she could wrangle when she answered, “Right. He misses me when he’s out at nightclubs surrounded by strippers and groupies and backup dancers. I’m sure all Eddie wonders about is little old me, back in Hawkins, when he’s walking red carpets and taking movie stars out to dinner in New York City and LA.” “You’re doing it again.” Carly was focused on the screen but talking to Amanda, frustration thick in her tone. Equally riled up, Amanda chirped, “Yea? What’s that?” Unblinking, Carly stared at her best friend, band mate, and roommate, “Selling yourself short. You should really watch out for that.” Her friend meant well, she knew that, had proof of it all around her, but because her brain was fickle and memories were monsters, she found herself whispering, “Eddie said he would. He promised me. Said he was always gonna look out for me.” Staring down at her pinky finger, she would swear she felt his littlest digit wrapped around her own, the supposedly iron-clad arrangement made in a post-sex haze of brightly burning new love too long ago to hurt so freshly but so recently it still might bleed. He had promised to watch over her, to change her mind and love her through it all. But when the man you loved had the chance to make his dreams a reality, you couldn’t stand in his way, right? At least that was what she told herself late at night when sleep wouldn’t come and the moon was high above, laughing at her. So, she watched, unflinching, as Eddie talked about burning grilled cheese sandwiches in a shitty hotel and the possibility of coming back to Indiana with the tour. She watched every shake of his head and every movement of his hands, taking them in like physical blows, wounds that would need cream and bandages and pain medication to heal up properly. And she drank another beer, going silent since her mind refused to do the same, replaying the sentences from the tv interview on an endless looping track, trying to work out any hidden meaning that proved Carly right and her own sense of self wrong. When the programming shifted, some early morning sketch show or something, Carly said goodnight and moved off to her room but still Amanda sat there. Was it fair to be so mad at Eddie? Did she really have a right to the hurt and anger she was holding onto with an iron grip? As the sun climbed through the window above her record player, Armando the Wonder Cat jumped into her lap for pets. Between scratching behind his pointy ears and patting down his back, she realized she was crying. Sure, she was disappointed in Eddie. In the promises he had never seen to fruition, but that wasn’t the only reason to be so upset. Because hadn’t she made promises too? And hadn’t she broken them all?

---

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wordynerdygurl · 2 years ago

Text

Two Sizes Too Small

Author’s Note: Well, lovelies, I pulled an all-nighter to finish this one. I just really wanted to give Eddie Munson a wonderful Christmas. That it involves love and my favorite holiday movie, How the Grinch Stole Christmas, well, how could I resist? Full disclosure- there’s a lot of holiday movie and music references! Also, my taglist is open, so let me know if you’d like to be added! Lastly, I hope everyone has a lovely and restful holiday season!! Pairing: Plus Size Female Reader x Eddie Munson

Summary: Eddie hates Christmas, the whole Christmas season, and maybe his heart is too small but it’s Christmas and miracles can happen at the holidays!

Warnings: SMUT, a touch of dubcon in the beginning, and also some angsty pining!

If it weren’t for Wayne, Eddie would have given up on Christmas a long time ago.

Around the time when he realized that Santa was his uncle scraping up extra change to ensure that there was something for him to open under the tree, Eddie’s heart had hardened against the holiday. Wayne already did so much: working double shifts, making sure that Eddie had food, clothes and a safe way to get to school each day. Why add to that burden with a day set aside for the sole purpose of spending money on stuff that no one really needed? Oh, he’d heard the arguments about showing people how much you cared this time of year. That the depth of someone’s feelings was greater than or equal to the quality of whatever sweater, baseball cap or new crock pot could be wrapped in pretty paper with a ribbon slapped on top. In his opinion that was a shitty system for communicating how much you appreciate someone, not to mention it only happened once a year.

There was no question in Eddie Munson’s mind that Wayne loved him. He didn’t need a stocking full of candy or a gift boxed t-shirt to show him what he already knew to be true. So, why make a big deal about it? It was just another day on the calendar.

Regrettably, his sentiments weren’t shared with, well, anyone else. All of the people around Eddie, his uncle especially, seemed to go Christmas Crazy. Shopping all the time, planning events and scheduling parties, worrying about what to buy everyone and where to get the best sale price. It didn’t make sense to him. The decorations, the lights, the ornaments, all of it was sentimental in a way that Eddie just couldn’t abide, “What’s the point? You’re just gonna pull all this shit down in a week.” Not dissuaded, Wayne snorts indignantly, digging through a dusty box marked X-MAS, “The point is, I like it. The point is, it reminds me of when you were an excited kid who liked the simple things in life. Things like bikes and blocks and crayons, not girls and drinking and rock music.” “Ok, ok, you made your point.” Eddie concedes, helping to tape a strand of red tinsel garland along the shelf of mugs which had all been gifts to uncle over the years. Wayne stoops low, child-like glee on his face, as he readies to plug in the light strand, “Ready for the tree?” It was like this every year and Eddie nods, ready to get this part over with, faking his way through Wayne’s Christmas crankiness. With a snap of electricity, the three foot artificial tree lights up. It’s filled with paper Santas scribbled in red marker, macaroni stars and once glitter covered foam gingerbread men. It is an annual homage to Eddie as a kid and Wayne adores it. Despite the grumbling from his nephew, Wayne refuses to give it up, at least, not without a serious fight. Unimpressed, Eddie drones, “Very nice. I like how you managed to keep all the ugly ornaments facing the window. The neighbors are gonna love ‘em.” Incredulous, Wayne scoffs at his semi-scowling nephew, “They should! I’m damned proud to have them.” A heavy wave of nostalgia falls over the old man, making his proud chin quiver with unspoken words of affection for the little boy turned man standing in front of him. Eddie hears the dip in his uncle’s voice, recognizing his yearly Christmas melancholy from a mile away. What was it about this time of year that made everyone go a little nuttier than usual? Was it the weather? The food? Or just the expectations that the holiday season seemed to carry? Screw that. Eddie wasn’t going to give into the commercialized crap that seems to sweep everyone else along in December. Christmas was for suckers and Eddie Munson was nobody’s fool. Well, almost nobody’s fool.

His hand lands on Wayne’s shoulder, going for fondness while ignoring the emotions playing out behind his uncle’s faded eyes. Softening a bit, Eddie offers an olive branch, “Wanna get drunk and watch White Christmas? I had Steve snag it for me.” Patting at his damp cheeks, Wayne nods happily, sappily, “That sounds great-” The phone trills shrilly, cutting through their conversation and Wayne lifts his eyebrows in Eddie’s direction. But his nephew shakes his head. “Ignore it. I’m exactly where I want to be.” Whoever was looking to score was gonna have to call back. Three rings later and Wayne is practically shoving Eddie towards the receiver, “Just answer the damn thing!” Grumpy and gruff, he gives in, whipping up the phone, “Yea?” —-------------- It was December 23rd and the party at Barry’s house was winding down, thankfully. People had been peeling off in pairs and trios, leaving just a few of your boyfriend’s buddies drinking the night away and ignoring you. At some point you looked around and realized that Barry was just gone. The house he grew up in- still lived in, with his family, was, in a word, enormous. There were dozens of rooms and thousands of doors which made your search all the harder. It was just like him to vanish, leaving you to fend for yourself when he had assured you that this time it would all be different. Arms circle your thick waist from behind as he pulls you into the second floor bathroom, pressing you against the granite countertop while lifting your pretty green skirt, “I’m so hard right now, gotta fuck you.” You giggle uncomfortably, already feeling a little too full of bubbling champagne, “Barry! Here? Now?” But you don’t get an answer beyond a rough tear in your tights, Barry’s fingers shifting your panties to the side abruptly, “Yea, right fucking now.” And then he was pushed inside of you, his thrusts sloppy and bordering on painful as he drunkenly rubs at your full breasts through your sweater. If he was concerned with your needs, it didn’t show in the fast sawing motion of his hips, and before you could even trace the beginning of your own ending, Barry was babbling through his own. Curving over your back, he pants in your ear, “Hmm, that was great.” Pulling out of you quickly, Barry tucks himself back into his chinos and presses a tiny kiss to your cheek, “Make sure you clean up before coming out to say goodbye to everyone.” And then he’s gone, leaving you frustrated with sticky thighs. You thank a god you don’t believe in for birth control pills and shuffle over to the toilet, eager to tidy up the mess Barry had left in his wake. Swiftly removing your torn pantyhose, you toss them in the trash can, regretting the loss. Money wasn’t exactly tight, but you were trying to save as much as you could, unlike your upperclass boyfriend. Flushing behind you, you replace your panties and wash your hands. Wiping some water over your cheeks, you smile at yourself in the mirror, confident that no one would know what had happened in the bathroom between you and Barry. Carefully, you shut the bathroom door, surprised when you hear voices, low pitched, in the nearby hallway. Whispers that carry the weight of the familiar voice of your boyfriend begging quietly, “Come on baby, it’s Christmas.” “So? You told me you were done with that trash, Barry and then, then you bring her here. Throwing her in my face? Are you trying to hurt me?” “Dawn, please. You know I only want you.” “Barry, I want you too, baby. But I won’t share you, not with someone like her-” And then the sounds of sloppy kisses gain strength, complete with moans and grunting. It was bordering on pornographic, like something private that shouldn’t be witnessed by anyone but those involved and you wish that you weren’t having to hear it at all. A gross knot of nausea welled up inside of you at the realization of what was happening, and so soon after Barry had cornered you in his bathroom. Disgusted now, you knew you had to leave. The sooner the better. On quiet feet you tiptoe into the nearest bedroom and choking back tears, reach for the phone. Dialing the only number you can think of, the only you have committed to memory, you pray to that same god that he’ll pick up. Finger twisting in the beige cord as you wait through four long rings, nervousness and shame filling your belly as you wait for the call to connect. “Yea?” His voice is gruff, grumpy, which takes you by surprise. It makes your own sound small as you ask timidly, “Eddie?” “What’s wrong? Where are you?” It’s immediate, that change in tone, his understanding of your need, and you drop into a whisper, “Would it be too much trouble for you to come and get me? I- I don’t think Barry-” He breaks in, direct and guarded, “Meet me at the corner. I’ll be there in ten.” The line went dead in your ear, a sure sign that Eddie was already en route to you. Sneaking away was easy when your boyfriend was frenching someone else and no one else at the party cared about you. Scooping up your fuzzy holiday sweater, you went right out the front door into the chilly night, without anyone noticing. Sobbing openly, you scurry to the corner, suddenly overeager to get away from this whole night. Eddie told you ten minutes, but he made it in seven, the van idling loudly when you rounded the corner. Dashing away tears, you climb into the heavenly heat of his vehicle, smiling tightly, “Hey Eddie. Thank you so much, I just- I really needed to get out of there.” He eyes you, a look full of questions, but wisely Eddie asks none of them. Waiting for you to buckle up, he rests a broad palm on your thigh, patting it twice, “No problem, sweets. Where we headed?” “Just home, if that’s alright. I’m- I’m kinda tired.” Putting the van in drive, he appraises you from the corner of his eye. Something about you was so small tonight it made Eddie’s heart hurt. When he heard you on the phone that damaged sound in your voice was enough to make his Spidey sense tingle. It was wrong, the way you had whispered, asking- no, pleading for him to come and get you. Wayne completely understood why he had to leave, even if it was in the middle of putting the final touches on their Munson Christmas traditions. Besides, nothing was going to stop Eddie, not when you sounded so shattered. Clearly something had happened, something not great. And it was something big enough for you to run away from Barry’s huge holiday party, something you had been talking about for weeks. So, while Eddie appreciates you calling him in your hour of need, he absolutely wants to know how to make it better for you and make sure that you’re really alright. “That’s okie-dokie artichokie. But, uh, can you just tell me-” turning to you now, his deep eyes searching yours, full of concern, “-you’re not hurt, right?” He couldn't stand to think about what he might be capable of if you said that you were, or had been. But still, Eddie needed to make sure that you were okay for his own sanity’s sake.

You nod shyly, appreciating the kind hearted way that Eddie handles your privacy, and tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. Looking away, you hum lowly, “Yea, Ed. I’m alright.”

“You sure?” “Uh huh. Just got my heart hurt, so, ya know, nothing too serious.” You try for lighthearted, breezy, but you don’t sell it because Eddie frowns, “Just your heart? Oh, sweetheart. I’m so sorry.” There’s a lot of things you find hard to bear, but Eddie’s pity is just too much. It punches the air out of your lungs. It crumples your bottom lip, setting your chin wobbling as you give into the burning tears of your heartbreak. Smoothly, Eddie pulls over although you’re not too far from home by now. You can hear his seat belt unlock and then your own is set free so that Eddie can scoot you closer. His chin rests on the top of your head as you cry into his neck, his voice soothing as he comforts you, “It’s ok. It’s going to be alright, sweetheart. You’re going to be ok. Hush now.” You don’t know how long you let Eddie console you, his leather jacket warm under your damp cheek, but eventually the sobs become sniffles and the sniffles fade to hiccups. Pulling out of the comfort of Eddie’s embrace, your eyes red and cheeks chapped, you lament thickly, “I got you all wet! I’m so sorry, Ed!” “Hey, stop that. I’m fine.” Brushing wayward hair from your streaky and sticky face, Eddie tuts, “Are you sure you’re alright?” “Yea.” It’s sad sounding, but you’re being honest. You will be ok once you get home, have a shower, and start putting Barry behind you. It helps to have a friend like Eddie Munson there to offer his shoulder to cry on. He fusses over you for another minute, wiping away the crystalline dew of your tears with his thumbs, “I’m here for you, whatever you need.” Eddie makes you stay in your seat until he can open the door for you, like a gentleman should, and walks you to your door. His hand is loosely holding yours as you slide your key into the lock. Almost embarrassed, you look his way, suddenly shy again, “Wanna come in? I’ve got some beer and I think The Grinch is on tonight.” Laughing a little, Eddie shrugs, agreeing easily but still giving you the option for backing out, “Alright, if you don’t mind?” “Of course not.” Once inside you slink out of your coat and motion for Eddie to do the same, “Have a seat. I’ll be right back with something to drink.” Your place was very sweet, just like you, with a tinsel tree glowing with colored lights and other small holiday decorations set out just so. It seems to Eddie like you’re also on the Christmas Crazy-Train. There are two small boxes laying on the red plaid skirt beneath the tree and a single stocking tacked under the television stand. He half expects you to leave out some cookies and milk, as if Santa was going to shimmy down your chimney tomorrow night and deliver you a Christmas miracle. Eddie couldn’t help it. He thought it was precious, sorta like you. And if he’s being honest, he feels as though his own Christmas miracle is happening, right here, right now. For two long years, you had been friendly, a close relationship beginning when you both reached for a recently returned copy of Evil Dead at Family Video. In a moment of unprecedented cool guy maneuvering, Eddie’s suggestion that you come over to his place and watch it together. When you agreed, offering him that sweet smile of yours, well, that had started everything. He didn’t regret it, couldn’t even if he wanted to. It wasn’t your fault that Eddie was using you as the standard against which all other ladies in his life would be judged. And even though, in a bunch of unsuccessfully small ways, Eddie had tried to nudge your friendship in a more romantic direction, he was still as sprung on you as he had been from that very first moment. Now, he was here, with you, and so close to the big holiday. It felt like his own Christmas miracle might be possible, if he believed in that kind of stuff- which he didn’t. Because Christmas was a commercial product. It was soulless, despite what people said to the contrary. But still, he rubbed his hands over his thighs nervously as he thought that maybe tonight was the night. Tonight you would see him as the charming, romantic leading man that you deserved in your life and not just the guy who bailed you out when trouble came around. Eddie’s seen enough of the fluffy, feel-good films that capitalize on the holiday season to recognize that he may be a part of one, with you. Because it couldn’t just be a coincidence that you called him on Christmas Eve, needing help and knowing exactly where to go to get it, right? From the sound of things, Barry was quickly moving out of the boyfriend column and into the exes pile. Another coincidence? He sure as shit hoped not, but Eddie can’t get his hopes up, they’ve been dashed too many times. With eyes that couldn’t seem to settle on anything in particular, Eddie’s mind strays to the countless other times where you had required rescuing and he had charged, nobly, into the fray. Finding you crying on the nearest corner after running out on Barry’s insensitivity, pulling up in his ratty van outside of a party where you had clearly been unhappy, and once driving to the Indiana state border to fetch you from another one of your idiot boyfriend’s debacles. Each time he promised himself that it was the last time- that he was going to protect himself, he was going to stop answering the phone, he was going to tell you how he felt. But the calls, they just kept coming. Happening way too frequently for his liking, the worn muscle of his heart tightening every time Eddie had to hear you sob, or listen to you talk about the belittling way Barry treated you. Over and over again, you let the guy break your heart, only to take him back after some groveling and half meant apologies. And over and over again, Eddie could feel his own aortic organ shriveling up from the knowledge that you refuse to see him as anything more than your second choice. Tensing, he rubbed the back of his, wondering why he was here, waiting for you. Sometimes, it seemed to Eddie, like he was always just waiting around for your next phone call, your next emergency. On hold until the phone rang, on the shelf, out of use. Sure, he went out, hanging around other people; Steve and Robin, obviously, the Hellfire crew, his band. Other than that, Eddie was at home, puttering around, on alert for the jingling ring that means you’re tagging him in for an assist. And he hates it. He truly does, because even though he hasn’t said it in exactly these words, Eddie needs you too. Even more than that, he needs you to need him. It gives him a purpose, a reason for sticking around this one horse town that isn’t connected to tragedy or trauma. You were unavailable, sure, but always present, the living embodiment of his happiness and his sadness. Eddie couldn’t help that the ache of wanting you for his own and always coming up short, time after time, was starting to splinter him into pieces. Snapping his head up at the scuffing steps you made, you pad back into the room wearing a cozy flannel nightgown, complete with elastic wrist cuffs and satin covered buttons at the throat. In place of your make-up was a scrubbed clean face, glowing from the effort. Your heels had been replaced by a pair of simple slippers. Eddie swallows thickly, all of his other thoughts knocked out of his head. Never had a woman been more covered up and still so alluring. The old fashioned sleep shirt skimmed over the sweeping curve of your hips, but still managed to show off your shapely legs and graceful neck. He isn’t sure why it affected him so much, this comfortable and easy version of you, but it did. “Do you still want a beer?”

He’s seen your mouth move, shaping the sounds of your question, but Eddie is dumbstruck by the innocent version of you hovering at the doorway. Tossing his head, mostly to clear away the fog of his want, he croaked, “What?”

Giggling softly, you take a step closer, “I asked if you were thirsty. Still want that drink?” “Oh, that? Yea, yea sure.” Knowing that he must seem mental, Eddie shifted on the couch, rolling his eyes at his own erratic behavior. From over your shoulder you ask him to turn on the tv, “The Grinch is on channel five, I think.” “Gotcha!” The snap of the television coming to life fills the small space and you were practically running around the corner by the time Boris Karloff starts his narration. Plopping down right next to Eddie, you gently hand him a bottle and drop a bag of chips onto the table, “Just in case we get hungry.” “Uh huh. Since when do you like Doritos, huh?” Flicking at the plastic bag, Eddie gives you a friendly side-eye look, full of teasing. Settling back into the cushions, you tug Eddie’s arm around your shoulders, “Since I’ve been forced to eat them with you.” An appreciative tone rang out from Eddie’s chest as you pressed your ear over the dip in his torso, right over his heart. The gentle, even rhythm you found there was one of your favorite things and you took every available opportunity to listen to Eddie’s heartbeat. You couldn’t say why it was important or what it was about his particular pulse that made you feel better, but it did, and Eddie, well, he never seems to mind. His fingers seemed to have a mind of their own, petting sweetly over the strands of your hair that trailed down towards your shoulders and he saw you shiver, “Here.” Eddie tugged the knitted afghan from the back of the couch, tucking it in around you. Sighing, you snuggled into him, letting your eyes shut, feeling truly and completely at ease finally, “Hmm, thanks babe.” Babe? Oh shit. That wasn’t good. Not for his spiraling thoughts. Sipping his beer, he refocused on the green Grinch stomping on the screen. He couldn’t bear to look at you. Looking at you, right now, was dangerous. You were too precious. And the scene around him was too domestic. It was exactly what life should look like if you weren’t the town scapegoat, raised by your uncle in the worst part of town and Eddie didn’t trust himself not to do something stupid in pursuit of that idealized image. Against his thigh, Eddie felt you shift as you drifted off. You were practically in his lap with your head nuzzled into the center of his chest, eyes gently shut. If he wasn’t careful, Eddie was going to enjoy holding you like this, so close and so easy, a little too much. The Grinch was complaining about noise and Eddie understood the sentiment a little too well because right now he was struggling to ignore the little kitten snores you were making with every exhale. Your tiny huffed puffs blowing against his tummy, beer scented and sweet. He smiled down at you, full of affection and pulled you tighter to his side. Unable to stop himself, Eddie brushed a peck to your upturned forehead, whispering a rueful “Fuck” into the night. When The Grinch ended and Charlie Brown’s Christmas started, Eddie sat still, his empty beer bottle in his hand, afraid that any movement would wake you up. A news broadcast, filled with updates on the coming snow storm’s progress and holiday toy drive details wrapped up before the intro to Johnny Carson began. Through it all, Eddie kept his arm around you, enjoying the worn in feel of your nightgown under his hand and the way you were burrowed into the crook of his shoulder. It was hard to be in your space so intimately and not touch you, even if his hands burned at the effort of keeping them to himself. So, he didn’t trace the sweet sweep of your nose or tuck your hair behind your ears. And somehow, Eddie managed to keep from pulling you into his lap fully, just to pet you, like he would a sleeping kitten. Instead, he relished the trust you put in him, content to imagine happy kisses shared between the pair of you, while you dreamed next to him on the sofa. And you slept just like that, curled into Eddie Munson’s warmth until the strains of the National Anthem faded into staticy snow. You sat up quickly, pulling back from the shared heat you and Eddie had created with a yawn. Blinking his way sheepishly, your words full of drowsiness, “Sorry Ed- Did-” you rubbed your still sleepy eyes, “Did you- did you stay all this time just to let me sleep?” It was his turn to look bashful, and glancing out your window, Eddie nodded, “Yea. What can I say? You were too cute to move, sweetheart.” Snorting, you rolled your eyes at his kind words, “Oh, I bet I was! All drooly and-” But he cut you off with a firm finger under your chin that yanked you near enough for his lips to press into your own. A hungry sound, the kind a man makes when he’s digging into his favorite dinner, rolled through Eddie as you let your mouth part. Thick and probing, Eddie licked over your bottom lip, letting the kiss deepen as your hands tangled into the second skin of his t-shirt. His forehead rested against your own, chest rising and falling rapidly, as Eddie’s dark eyes locked on yours, “Hey.” “Hey,” you echoed, keenly aware of Eddie’s presence in your sphere, breathing him in with short inhales as you tried to quiet your racing heart. Hands that you know as well as your own come down to cup your face, handling you as if you were porcelain- precious beyond measure and utterly breakable, “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.” Looking like a happy kid on Christmas morning, Eddie’s dimples show as he smiles your way, his fingers threading with yours. Falling back into his original spot, he drags you with him, eager to have you in his arms, but you hold yourself back, teeth toying at your bottom lip as you blurt, “But Barry. He’s-” Your words stick in your throat at the sight of Eddie’s crestfallen face, a new iciness filling each syllable, “What? He’s what, sweetheart?” When you don’t answer right away, a rage that he normally can keep in check threatens to overflow, as Eddie carried on in a rising voice, “I’ve seen- shit-” a fist slams into the meat of his thigh, his anger focused on that one spot as hurt filled eyes find yours in the silver light of the running television, “-I’ve seen what he’s done to you. How he treats you. How he hurts you over and over.” Slender fingers reach for your cheek but Eddie doesn’t touch you. Instead he lets his hand drop into his lap, his heart falling into the abyss as he manages to choke out, “And still, you’d rather be with him?” For a long second you didn’t answer, your brain too full of thoughts. A lot had happened in the few minutes since you woke up, huddled around Eddie’s middle and you still weren’t thinking straight. How could you after an incredible kiss like that? And Barry. What about him? Were you together? You didn’t think so, not after what you had overheard, but that final conversation hadn’t happened yet.

Eddie’s words surround you though, the pain in them unmistakable. Shaking your head slowly, you huskily counter, “I didn’t say that, Eddie. It’s just-” But he pushed to his feet without giving you a chance to explain. Swinging his jacket over his broad shoulders with furious flare, “Ya know, what? Don’t. I don’t wanna know. Just uh-” in three long strides Eddie’s jerked open your front door. His back is to you, the handsome face that you’ve come to associate with protection and honor haloed by the streetlights, Eddie chokes out over his shoulder, “Merry Christmas.”

Your door, red bowed wreath swinging, slammed shut and now, now your apartment feels really empty, cold. The lights on your tree seem garish and glaring as this year’s holiday slowly but surely becomes the worst kind of memory. Feelings that you’re too tired to process flow through you, but in the end you drag yourself to bed in the early hours of Christmas morning, wishing it all away as a bad dream. Flopping into bed, you clutched your pillow in your arms, disappointed that it didn’t have a pulse to share with you. Already missing Eddie, you kicked yourself for being so indecisive, for ruining the precious seconds where only you and he existed in the twinkling glow of Christmas lights. Pale sunlight was streaking the sky when you finally closed your eyes, hoping that you’d wake up to a world that was back in its proper alignment. Only, morning finds you, just the same, and unfortunately, there are no singing Whos to make you feel better about the night before. There’s no one to kiss you awake and wish you a Merry Christmas Eve or tell you about the snow that is just starting to fall in fat, perfect flakes. You don’t have anyone to cook for or watch open gifts. It’s just you, all by yourself. It was always going to be a small Christmas, you knew that, truly. You didn’t have much family and only a few friends, except for the people you met through your boyfriend or Eddie. In fact, the gifts laying under the tree had been for them, of course. Now they both were ghosts: Christmas Past and Christmas Present. At some point you throw yourself onto the couch, clicker in one hand, a can of Coke in the other even though it was still breakfast time. It was around that time he’d called, much too early for your liking, so you let the machine get it. With a self assured voice that proved how little he understood or cared about you, Barry had left a message asking you to bring a dessert when you came for dinner that night. A last minute request for a last minute invitation. He was so sorry, but you would do it, right? His call went unreturned. Angry, you immediately erased the tape and took the phone off the hook. After last night with Eddie, you were fairly certain that no one else was going to be calling. Not on Christmas Eve when there were presents and parties and people to enjoy. Besides, all this silence gave you time to think, so while Danny Kaye and Bing Crosby tap danced across the twelve inch screen of your tv, you did just that. And if your eyes got misty at Rosemary Clooney’s gift of a knight on a white horse, then that was just how good the movie was, right? It didn’t have a single thing to do with a certain man willing to ride into battle on your behalf, over and over and over again. The more you thought, the more you realized that Eddie hadn’t been wrong about the ways in which Barry failed you as a boyfriend. He had been treating you like garbage for a very long time, longer than anyone should tolerate, but when you had so little, even the scraps seemed significant. Swallowing down your less than festive Swanson’s turkey dinner lunch, you realized that you didn’t want scraps- not anymore. Changing the channel, Jimmy Stewart’s drawl takes over the room, but you're not thinking about bells ringing. You’re thinking about Eddie, again. Still. You’re thinking about how, even now, your nightie smells like tobacco and light beer and old leather. You’re thinking about the sacred synth beating of his heart and how it always seems to settle you. You’re thinking about that tender kiss he laid on you when your brain was still fuzzy but your body knew just how to respond.

You’re thinking about Eddie this Christmas Eve, but is he thinking about you?

— Eddie has never been more miserable in life. Surrounded by all of his friends, gorging themselves on pie and turkey and ham and potatoes and cookies cut to look like snowmen, mittens or bells, Eddie is cursing the whole Christmas season. All of the trappings are just red and green reminders of what he doesn’t have, what he can’t enjoy, what he had with you last night when you were tucked into him, safe and sound, while The Grinch stole Christmas. “What’s eating you?” Steve’s got a small paper plate in his hand, balancing a slice of lasagna along with a piece of cake that’s been stabbed through by a white plastic fork, as he dropped down beside Eddie. “Nothing.” Leaning his chin into his hand, Eddie’s elbow dug into the meat of his thigh, a grouchy position for a grouchy guy. Licking frosting off his fork, Steve hummed, “No way. Something’s got you all pissy. Pissier than usual- and on Christmas too! Come on, lay it on me.” Rolling his eyes Steve’s direction, Eddie sat back reluctantly, “I- I think I fucked up.” Steve’s bite of lasagna hovered in midair, between the plate and his open mouth, as he tossed his infamous locks, “Impossible. It’s Christmas.” “What’s that got to do with it?” Eddie grumbled, sitting up swiftly. Really, was that any kind of explanation? It was December 25th so your life couldn’t be totally screwed up? Humbug. Chewing loudly, Steve nodded, holding up a finger as a silent indicator for Eddie to wait up until he swallowed. With a sip of his egg nog, Steve twisted in Eddie’s direction, “Well, first, everyone loves Christmas. Everyone but you, I mean. It makes people feel better. Want to be better, do better, ya know?” “So?” “So, you’re more likely to be forgiven for fucking up. I mean, shit. Nance and I got back together over Christmas. It’s magical, dude.” Blowing out a noise that was similar to a fart, Eddie shook his head in frustration, “It’s a day, Harrington. One day out of 365. Why does everyone make such a big deal-” “Are you kidding me? Have you like, never seen A Christmas Carol or, or watched ‘Rudolph’?” Confused, Eddie shrugs, “I have, but-” “But what? All the songs, the movies, the stories, they’re all about loving each other- and, and being kind at Christmas time.” Throwing up his hands, Eddie stared at his friend, his smile sort of sad, “Well, what if you kiss someone who’s still hung up on their asshole boyfriend?” With rounding, wide eyes, Steve stuttered, “You- you kissed her? It’s about damn time, man!” Flopping back, his long haired head resting against the tall cushion of the Wheeler’s couch, Eddie groused, “Naw, Harrington. She-” sighing deeply, willing the pain out of his tone, “-she’d rather stay with Barry.” Steve tossed down the empty plate, standing quickly, “No. Nope. Nuh uh.” Looking around, shocked by Steve’s sudden movements, Eddie can’t help asking, “What’s happening, Steve?” Bending at the waist, his handsome forelock falling forward, Steve’s hands find his hips as he admonishes the depressed rocker in front of him, “I’ll tell you what’s happening. You’re getting up and going over there. You have to talk to her, man.” Glaring up at his friend from under his shaggy bangs, Eddie shook his head defiantly, “No way. No fucking way. She-” Leaning down further, dad stance activated, Steve snapped, “Do you like her? Do you-” pausing to cock an eyebrow skyward, “-love her?” Gulping guiltily, Eddie’s head bounced in response as Steve added, “I thought so. Well, the good thing for you is that this magical day isn’t over. You never know what might happen if you go and talk to her. I mean, it’s Christmas, man. And maybe, just maybe, you’ll find out you didn’t fuck up everything after all.” “Is this some kinda motivational speech, Harrington?” Tilting his head as that wicked grin spread over his face, Eddie isn’t laughing at Steve, but he can’t help mocking him just a little bit. Confusion filling his face, Steve faltered for a second, “Uh, is- is it working?” Genuinely this time, Eddie smiled genuinely, “Yea, I think it is.” Straightening his spine, resolute, Steve countered, “Then, yes. I’m motivating you with my speech. Now, uh, get lost, Munson.” Offering his unlikely friend a hand, Steve pulled Eddie to his feet and was already ushering him towards the door. “Alright, but if this backfires, I’m coming back here and kicking your ass to the tune of Jingle Bells.” “Fair enough.” Steve tapped him twice on the back as Eddie slid towards the van, his sneakers not offering much traction in the snow, “Go get her, Munson.” Eddie started the van and gave Steve a thumbs up before backing slowly out of the driveway. For some reason, his heart felt lighter, buoyed by the pep talk from his buddy. Maybe Steve was right. Maybe there was a way to save this Christmas after all. Mind whirling, he was already planning out what to say to you- an apology to start. And he was sorry. Sorry for kissing you out of the blue. Sorry for not telling you how he felt. Sorry for talking about your boyfriend.

Ex-boyfriend? Whatever the hell he was now. But mostly, Eddie was sorry for walking away without telling you what was going on inside his head. You deserved that much at least. Snow was falling faster now, dusting the whole town in powdered sugar whiteness, and he found himself hunching over the steering wheel to see better between the drifting flakes. His defrost was working overtime, struggling to keep the fog off his windshield, as he cursed, “Jesus Christ!” As he got closer to your place his headlights illuminated a person, bundled up like a snowman, trudging along the barely plowed street. Shaking his head as he slowly rolled past, Eddie couldn’t understand what would possess someone to do something like that, even if it was Christmas Eve. What was so damned important that you went out in bad weather, a soggy sack of gifts melting under the swiftly shifting snow, he’d like to know. Pressing on the brake, Eddie stopped, disbelief flooding him. “No. No way-”

— Snow was dropping down in gentle swirls when you decided that you had to see Eddie, regardless of the fading sunlight, before Christmas Eve came to a close. Too much had been said, too much left unsaid, for your mind to let it go. Not to mention the way your heart ached dully when you thought about the wounded look on his face before he’d left you, stunned and speechless, after that tasty kiss. No. It was Christmas, dammit. And at Christmas, you told people how much they meant to you. How much you needed them. How much you relied on their strength, their warmth, their willingness to take teary phone calls at all hours of the night and then come rescue you from shitty situations time and again. How much you, gulp, loved them. It was Christmas Eve and you were only just now realizing that there was one person who you needed to make the holiday happy and bright. One dark hued, leather wearing metal head who just happens to be the white knight of your personal story. You just hoped it wasn't too little, too late. Jamming his gift into a bag, you dressed as warmly as you could, layering up like a cake before lacing up your boots. Pulling on a striped winter hat, complete with a fuzzy pom pom on top, you zipped up your heavy coat and stepped outside, shivering in the chill. You didn’t have a car of your own, so you were going for a wintery walk to the trailer park, all in the name of love.

With a foggy exhale, you hummed to yourself, “Oh, the weather outside is frightful-” On a good day, the walk to Eddie’s place was about fifteen minutes. Today, Christmas Eve, during a snowstorm, that quarter of an hour turns into forty five minutes easily. Color rose up on your cheeks, across your nose, and the tips of your ears. Anywhere you couldn’t cover with a scarf or coat was chapping in the cold air. And you had long ago stopped your singing. Forced to walk on the road since most of the sidewalks were untreated, you didn’t mind, but you were incredibly cautious about oncoming traffic. You wanted to talk to Eddie, not get turned into road pizza on the biggest holiday of the year, so you are walking into the wind and making yourself as visible as possible in the coming dusk. Still, it required a lot of effort on your part, even if you had started to question the sanity of your idea.

Headlights catch your eye and you raise a hand to block the brightness. The driver was going slow due to the snow and you move as far to the side as you can while also avoiding a slushy splash. Tucking further into your scarf, you trudged on, rehearsing the speech you were going to give when Eddie opened his trailer door. And maybe that’s why you didn’t notice when the passing vehicle slid to a stop before reversing on the empty roadway. All you know is that one second you were inside your head, white flakes flying past in swirling cyclones, and the next you hear a shout, “What the hell are you doing?” “Eddie?” Stopping short, your head snapped up at a voice you know as well as your own. He was out of the van in a flash, his hands gripping onto your shoulders tightly, “It’s cold as fuck out here, not to mention snowing like crazy, and you’re just- just walking around?” Tipping your chin up, you eyed him from under the brim of your stocking cap, “I was going to your place. I- I have a gift-” “A gift? Sweet fucking Christ! You coulda been killed! A car could have- or, or, you could have slipped on ice and hit your head. I mean, do you have any idea-” Horrible scenario after horrible scenario filled Eddie’s mind. Worrying about what could have happened to you and knowing that it hadn’t could not stop the flipped switch of his panic. With a cracking voice, Eddie pulled you into his heart, his warmth, questioning you brokenly, “What if I hadn’t seen you? What if- what if something happened to you and I wasn’t able to stop it. To save you?”

His grip tightens around you and your bulky coat, almost lifting you off the ground, “What would I do if-” A sweet half smile curls over your face as you put a mittened hand over his chest, cutting him off, “Eddie.” Your voice stills him, those wide burnt sugar eyes locking on yours, as he tips your head up, “Yea?” Pushing up onto the toes you could barely feel, you pressed a chaste kiss to Eddie’s warm mouth, lingering in his cinnamon gum scented sphere. For a second, he froze, your cold nose rubbing against his as your eyes fluttered shut. Then, his arms pulled you as close as your jacket allowed, those lips of his finding your chapped ones with a happy hum. Heat rushed through you, a welcome change from the dropping temperatures out on the snowy street. Only this heat was spreading from the clenching muscles in your tummy, a fire ignited by the wanting way Eddie moaned into your mouth. His nimble tongue danced alongside yours as the sky deepened into an inky indigo, dotted with picture perfect snowflakes. Fingers, pinkening from the cold air, tug on the ends of your scarf ensuring that you can’t get away from Eddie this time. He didn’t need to worry. You weren’t going anywhere, not without Eddie Munson, anyway. Not anymore. Parting in a puff of heavy air that turned silver in the snowy night, Eddie’s forehead bumped against the cuff of your cap, a goofy grin making his dimples impossible to ignore, “Hey.” “Hey.” Looking up at him through the curve of your lashes, expectant and excited, you were waiting to see what Eddie’s next move would be. You were rosy from cold, eyes shining bright in the fading light of day, and Eddie had never wanted you more. Swallowing thickly, you watched his Adam’s Apple bob while his arms rubbed over your thick sleeves, “Can I- Will you let me take you home?” Biting into your bottom lip, you nod quickly, “Yea. Yes, please.” Guiding you, Eddie ensured that you’re safely situated in the passenger seat before securing your buckle and shutting the door. You giggled as he moved around the front of the van, slipping in the slush, his face illuminated in the headlights. Catching your eye, he winks wickedly and then is seamlessly sliding behind the steering wheel with a wild toss of his snow-dampened hair, “Where to m’lady?” Sighing deeply, but happily, you pull off your winter hat, staticy strands sticking up at odd angles, “I’d normally say take me home, but-” “But?” There’s caution in Eddie’s voice. Like a skim of ice on the lake, things between you are still tentative- not solid, and he has a momentary lapse of confidence. Laying a hand on his denim clad thigh, leaning closer to reassure him, you shrugged, “But I don’t want to be alone. Not tonight. It’s Christmas Eve.” It gives Eddie an idea. A wonderful idea. A perfect, Hallmark Card, winter wonderland idea. “Ok, but just remember… You asked for it.” His tone is playful when Eddie swings the van in a circle, turning from the direction of your place back the way he came. Oh, he’s nervous. There weren’t a lot of people who had been to his trailer; just the closest, dearest of friends. Steve had seen the inside of the clean and cozy space a time or two, Robin and Nancy for sure, but mostly, Eddie was the guy pulling up to your place, not the other way around. A small Christmas tree, loaded with lights and ornaments faced the gravelly road where Eddie’s uncle was already parked. There’s strands of blinking lights criss-crossing the awning and a small sign that says, “Santa Stop Here” propped up on the porch. It’s a sweet sight, a glowing, golden invitation on a cold and snowy Christmas night and you can’t help the dopey look of glee on your face at what you’re seeing. Pulling the van in smoothly, Eddie held up a hand, “Wait, k? I haven’t been here to shovel.” Agreeing with a head bob, you sat patiently as he stomped around, snow high enough to cover his sneakers. Snagging your bag, you are prepared to step into the snow, but Eddie doesn’t give you the chance. One foot touched the ground and then he’s bear hugging you, walking you straight to the stairs as you laugh, “What are you doing?” “Keeping you from getting cold feet. Obviously!” Once he’s sure you’re on the firm ground of his steps, Eddie bounced back and kicked the van’s door closed. He brushed by you, his hand finding your elbow so that he could haul you inside, calling out warmly, “Hey, Uncle Wayne! Hope you don’t mind-” An older, more worn in version of Eddie, minus the long locks, popped a head out from the kitchenette, “Wha? Oh. Oh, we’ve got company then?” Wiping his hands on a well used dish cloth, he moved closer, arms wide, “I’m Eddie’s uncle- Wayne, in case you didn’t get that part.” The hug is crushing and so full of tenderness that you can’t help but wrap your arms around this new person, squeezing hard as he welcomes you. Stepping back, Uncle Wayne kept a firm hand on you, but eyed Eddie steadily, “Your phone call, I take it?” Chuckling nervously, Eddie rubbed a palm across the back of his neck, ruffling his hair in the process. He’s never been able to hide much from his uncle, this is no exception, and he can tell that he’s busted. “Yea, Wayne. She’s the one who called last night.” A look passed between them, approving and accepting, before Wayne clapped his hands, asking, “Are ya hungry, darling? It’s not much, but it’s our tradition, so to speak.” “If you don’t mind? I-” “Mind?” Wayne says it as if he’s offended by the idea, “You’ll be doing me a favor. Keep this one-” pointing at Eddie with an up turned thumb, “-on his best behavior. Come on!” Your jacket disappeared into a closet somewhere and Eddie helped you shuck the soaking boots you’ve been wearing for much too long. Excusing yourself, you duck into the bathroom, and when you come back, there’s a heartwarming scene unfolding in front of you. Wayne and Eddie, setting an extra place at the table, grumbling about the “good china” which you can tell is paper plates. Stopping, Wayne appraised his nephew for beat as Eddie centered a folded paper towel over your spot. A small smile pulled at the corners of his uncle’s mouth before Wayne dragged Eddie into an unwilling hug that ended with a firm clap on the younger man’s back. You swing back into the room at the sound, “This- this looks great, you guys!” A pot of macaroni and cheese, neon orange and buttery, sits in the center of the table. There’s a plate of ham and cheese sandwiches, cut into triangles and piled high on a Miller High Life tin tray, next to a bowl of salad greens. A big bottle of ranch dressing standing proudly at its side. “It’s not traditional, I guess-” Eddie started but Uncle Wayne cut him off, “It’s our tradition! All of Eddie’s favorite food is here. Except the salad, of course.” “Except the salad.” He echoed his uncle, offering you a sandwich from the tray while his teeth pinch the fat of his lip, desperate for your acceptance. He had no reason to worry. It’s just so lovely to be with other people, especially guys like the Munson boys. They pass around bottles of beer, telling stories, making you laugh so hard that your stomach muscles ache from it. From deeper in the trailer you heard the sound of an alarm clock buzzing and Uncle Eddie exhaled hard, “Well children, I have to get going.” Looking up from your seat at their table, you questioned, “No! You’re not leaving are you?” Taking one of your hands in his, Wayne pats it gently, “Double time at the plant is too good to pass up, even if the company is as excellent as yours, darling.” Pouting, you let your bottom lip stick out and Eddie is struck by an urge to kiss you stupid. Instead of whipping you into his arms in front of his uncle, Eddie stood up and started clearing the table, “Ok, old man. You can stop flirting with her now.” “Me? I would never!” And you could hear the same teasing tone in Uncle Wayne’s voice that Eddie has inherited. It’s flattering and flustering at the same time and you just knew that they could feel the flush of heat radiating off of you from the attention they both give you. “Yea, yea. Here-” Eddie handed a small box to Wayne, “-Food, for tonight’s shift.” “Thanks, son.” Turning in your chair you watched Wayne shrug on his coat, popping the collar up high to block some of the snow that’s still falling. At the doorway he nodded your direction, “Don’t be a stranger young lady. Merry Christmas to you both!”

And then the trailer goes quiet. Eddie pivoted fast, big eyes finding yours, and you both started laughing again. “Shit! I mean, I knew Uncle Wayne had moves, I’ve just never seen them in action like that before.” Feigning innocence, you placed a hand over your heart, “Do you mean to tell me that he was flirting? My, my, you Munson men must have a type!” Eddie’s chuckle petered out, his face growing serious, as he looked you over, “Yea. We do. Pretty ladies who uh, who walk through snow storms and love The Grinch.” You didn’t laugh because it wasn’t funny anymore. Reaching out his hand, Eddie lifted you to your feet, spinning you in place before bringing his hands to your hips. “Hey, hang on, k?” Nodding, you missed his presence when he stepped up to the record player hidden in the corner of the living room. The speakers spring to life, and with a triumphant grunt, Eddie placed a 45 on the turntable before returning to you. Nat King Cole started to croon about chestnuts and open fires, but you’re hardly listening. You’re caught up in the way Eddie’s eyes reflect the multi-colored lights of his cute Christmas tree, reds and greens and yellows and blues. The feeling of his hands swaying you back and forth, moving you where he needed you to be, is intoxicating, heady. Drawing your palms over his forearms, you slid them higher, higher, higher, until you could lace them behind Eddie’s neck. He stretched against your folded fingers, looking down at you, “I’m really glad that you came over tonight. I don’t think Wayne will ever get over it.” Snickering sweetly, you wet your lips, “He loves you.” “He’s the only one.” Shaking your head, your hooded gaze never leaving his, you countered, “Uh uh. That’s not true.” Eddie tilted his head, studying your expression, “You calling me a liar, sweetheart?” His tone was playful but the tenor was low, raspy, grating, and you matched it when you answered, “Yea, maybe I am.” “Are you saying that you love me?” Whispering, just in case he was dreaming, just in case he had to deny that these words had ever been spoken, Eddie paused all movement. You nod, yes, but it’s not enough. Not for Eddie. Not tonight. “Please, I need- I need you to say it.” A clock ticked away the seconds while you peered into the hot cocoa gaze of the only man you truly trusted, “I love you, Eddie. I- I think I always have, really.” If you could capture an image to look over forever, it would be the face Eddie made at your husky confession. The unadulterated joy that crowds his features made you think about New Year’s Eve fireworks, exploding and expanding as they brilliantly burst. Eddie broke your hold on him, his fingers threaded between your own as he brought a hand up to press a little kiss to your knuckles. “I know. It took you long enough to realize it, though, sweetheart.” Looking away from him, a stupid, giddy smile grew across your face. You rolled your eyes, “Maybe I was waiting for the right moment? ‘Tis the season, ya know?” Eddie didn’t reply, at least not with words. He picked his moment and using your waist as leverage, snugged you tight to his lean body. One arm braced along your spine as his other hand cupped your bountiful bottom, tipping you off center a bit so that he could wrap your leg over his hip. He’s so solid, so sturdy, that you melted into the embrace, letting Eddie support you entirely as you gripped at his firm biceps. That curtain of ebony hair brushed against your cheek as your mouth searched for and found more of Eddie to taste. Mewling against his lips, you could feel his growing excitement and your core pulsed with need at the idea of having all of Eddie, all for yourself. Pinching your bottom, Eddie straightened you both up, jerking his head towards the small room at the end of the hall, “Come on.” A little light headed, you followed where he led, landing in his personal domain. It’s a space dominated by his love of music and all things D&D related, and it smelled so good, so right, that you launched yourself in his direction, needy lips already moving in on him. Eddie met you there, in the middle, ready and wanting. Longing for him, you toyed with the hem of his t-shirt, desperate to feel Eddie under your hands. Gliding higher, Eddie chuckled, catching your hands in one of his, “Your hands are freezing!” “Sorry!” You rubbed them together, blowing on them, trying to warm them up as quickly as possible. “S’ok, I got you.” He stepped away and crossed his hands at the bottom of his shirt before ripping it off in one fluid motion. Eddie is stunning. His compact and constant strength is evident in the smooth lines of his chest, his tattoos a road map to pleasure. You didn’t know whether to touch him, or kiss him, or lick him- your thoughts derailed entirely when he tisked, “Um, see something you like?” Beneath your hands Eddie felt so substantial, so solid. Tracing his ribs, you leaned in to kiss the places where black ink outlined the images associated with his rock and roll persona, keeping a hold on his trim waist. When you reached the hollow of his chest, the place that hovered above his heart, you lingered long enough to purple the skin there as yours. Home. It’s the sort of attention that Eddie isn’t accustomed to- someone showering him in affection. The time its taken for your tongue to lick lines over his pecs, press kisses across his collar bone, nips at the cologne stained skin of his neck, feels like decades. Eons. Ages. But he let you take that time. Breathing became a struggle, especially when you purse your lips and sucked little red splotches over the length of his core, your still chilly fingers dug into the muscles of his back as a reminder for him to keep still. Tentatively, you played with his belt, not wanting to show just how eager you truly were in this moment. He doesn’t stop you, instead Eddie moves your hands to his handcuff shaped buckle, encouraging you, “Yea, go ahead, babe. I- I want you to.” Jumping at the contact, Eddie’s stomach muscles contracted and he hissed. Dropping to your knees, you pushed his jeans down, down, down, and tapped his calf. It was a silent way of telling him to move his feet so you could get his pesky pants off of him. From this position, Eddie stood tall and straight like a mythological hero above you. Other guys might have tried to hide their growing erections, crossing their hands over any visible sign of their desire, but that’s not Eddie’s style. If anything, he parted his legs, widening his stance to showcase his masculine power. And if the boxers he wore weren’t covered in Santa faces, then you were certain his manliness would have overpowered you. “Ah! These are very cute.” Flicking at the hem of his shorts, you had to tease him. You have to lighten the mood otherwise, you were going to combust right to ash at his feet. “‘Tis the season- isn’t that what you said?” Throwing your words back at you, Eddie let his fingers tangle in your hair, urging your head back as your dewey mouth parted. You were so close to him, to his aching stiffness, that all his willpower is being channeled into behaving. It would be all too easy to dig his thumbs into the pudgy flesh of your cheeks, keeping your mouth open wide as he fed his hard cock between your lips until you were full up with Eddie. A shadow of his thoughts crossed behind his eyes and you gulped audibly, pressing your thighs together at the idea of him using you for his own end. Only, that wasn’t who Eddie Munson was, at heart. There was no forcing, no taking, not without talking first. And that alone was so very different from whatever his name was that you were already feeling more excited, more aroused than you could ever remember being before. Nodding at his quip, you stretched your fingers toward the gathered elastic band of his jockey shorts, but he stopped you, “Not yet, ok, pretty girl? Wanna see you first, alright?” “Oh, yea, ok. Sure.” You stood up on shaking legs, never breaking the heated stare between you and Eddie. Slowly you started to peel off the layers of clothing that you had wrapped around yourself before heading out into the snow. Fumbling, you toed off one thick sock when Eddie’s low laugh interrupted your eager undressing, “Lemme help you. You helped me, it’s only fair.” Motioning to his thigh, you brought your socked foot up, inhaling sharply when Eddie rolled the soggy wool down your toes before chucking it towards the door. Those calloused fingers massaged up your calf, the muscles there tense from your excursion, and you groaned gratefully at the softening his touch brings. Too soon, in your opinion, Eddie lowered your leg back to the floor, but it’s only because he was raising the bottom band of your hoodie over your head. Stumbling a bit, he caught you, now in a t-shirt and leggings, “Did you put on everything you own?” “It’s cold out! And I was walking here to tell the guy I love “Merry Christmas”!” It’s your best defense and the base honesty of it makes Eddie weak. “Fair enough, sweetheart, but I need you naked. Like, now.” His eyebrows are raised expectantly making you chortle as his overeager attitude. You got a little bit fresh though, wanting to tease him, to draw out the night, so you sass, “What if I’m your gift, huh Munson? And you’re just rushing through the unwrapping part-” He doesn't let you finish. Instead, Eddie scooped you up with his hands on your soft bottom, pushing his nose into the crook of your neck, “Oh, I know how to take my time, babe. Especially when it matters.” “Fuck, Eddie.” It’s a broken exhale, wanton and laced with a desperation that he had never heard from you before. He’s an addict already. Buttons part easily under Eddie’s knowing fingertips. Your flannel shirt and faded tee are thrown across the room joining the growing pile of your clothes. After your ribbed tank top comes off, the last barrier to your bountiful breasts is the emerald green bra you put in, hopeful that Eddie would have a chance to see it before the night ends. Now here he is, an owlish look on his wonder filled face, “Wow.” Heat climbed through you at the raw realness on display in Eddie’s features. That’s when you decided that you can’t wait any longer and took his wrists in your hands, placing them on your waist as you stepped into his arms, “Eddie, baby, please? Please touch me.” He doesn’t respond with words. Gripping you tight enough to bruise, your head is tipped back to make room for Eddie’s roving mouth as he scorches a path down your neck. At the swell of your breasts he slowed down, savoring the flavor of your skin, teasing you with his tongue. Licking over the lace of your bra, Eddie sucked on your hardened nipple through the fabric, the foreign sensation making you jump under his ministrations. You tangled a fist in his hair, pulling against the loose curls, and he let you direct his mouth back to your own bee stung lips as you mewl, “Need you, Eddie. Need you now.” “Fuck, baby.” Walking you backwards, Eddie lowered you onto his bed, following you down to the mattress. His hands cupped your cheeks, brushing your hair back so he could really see you, those broad thighs pressing your own open. You could feel the delicious weight of him on top of you, his hard cock unavoidable, and you rolled your hips into Eddie’s just to hear him groan. In a rush now, Eddie ripped your pants off in a flash, taking your panties with them. Kneeling between your spread legs, he laid his hands over his heart, “I really love-” you angled up onto your elbows, anticipating how he’ll finish his sentence, “-my Christmas gift. Thank you so much for bringing it over, even if you had to walk a mile in the snow.” “You shit!” Giggling at his theatrics, you grabbed for him, only satisfied when he’s draped over your prone figure. There’s a kiss then, and another, and another until they blend together in your mind. Some are sweet and slow. Some tender and testing. Others are sloppy, teeth clicking, tongue sucking kisses. Hands are everywhere. They glide along hairy thighs and smooth arms. They paused to fondle, to flick, to squeeze. They never stopped moving. Fingers find ticklish spots to linger on, drawing out laughter, high and sweet. Fingers press hard into soft skin. They dig in, they hold on. When Eddie’s bold enough, he touches you at the dark, damp cavern of your core. The un-rushed attention is overwhelming and it doubles in intensity when his calloused middle finger finds a home surrounded by your satin walls. Clutching at his arms, you wailed thinly, “More, Eddie, more, please.” A second finger breached your wet cleft, the stretch delicious and somehow delicate because Eddie’s listening to you, to your body, and he’s not rushing. His gaze had not left yours, the show you’re putting on is just too good to miss and he has a front row seat. Kissing over your tummy, moving lower, you bucked into his grip just as his plush pout pressed against your straining clitoris. Fisting his pillow with one hand, the other curled possessively around the back of his neck, holding him steady. Holding him close. Holding out for the inevitable peak of your pleasure, brought on by the unceasing attention of your lover. Panting, your thighs quaked, the ecstatic energy gathering in your body ready to explode. It’s been so long since you had someone take care of you, worry about pleasing you, think about getting you off first, that when your orgasm hits it is leveling. The air huffs out of you in short bursts as your body goes rigid, all of your limbs seem to lock up, and every molecule of your form is concentrated on the overriding bliss created by Eddie and his feelings for you. Maybe you blacked out, you don’t really know what else to call the far away floating sensation that accompanied your little death. What you do know is that Eddie has you gathered in his arms, your head cradled over that spot- your spot on his chest, his heartbeat the first sound that breaks through the fog of your climax. Rocking you back and forth, soft kisses pressing into the crown of your head, as Eddie cooed, “I got you, pretty girl. It’s alright. You’re ok, honey.” Shivering as you come down from your intense high, stray tears cascaded down your cheeks, but these are not born of sadness. Experiencing euphoria like this was overwhelming and you gratefully sunk into Eddie’s warmth, hiccuping, “I’m- I’m ok, Eddie. I’m- thank you. Thank you so much.” “Thank me? Sweetheart, I didn’t do-” Swiveling in his arms, you peered up at him through wet eyes, “But you did! You do. You always take such great care of me and tonight, all this, it’s no exception.” And you kissed him with everything you had in your heart, saying ‘I love you’ with your body over and over again. When you pulled back this time, a small hand on Eddie’s stubbled cheek, you shook your head, not believing that you were here, now, with this loving man, “I think I must be dreaming.” “Then, please, for the love of Ozzy, do not wake up.” An undignified snort of laughter snuck out of you and Eddie takes advantage of the distraction to lay you back on the bed. Floppy and boneless, you’re spread out and giggling, ready for whatever Eddie wanted to do. You run your foot over his leg, landing on his hip before he wrapped a hand around your ankle, steadying his hold on you to ensure that you were open wide for him. You nibbled on your pinky finger, knowing what came next, but playing coy. That sweetness, the innocent way you batted your eyelashes at him, it made Eddie throb. Yearning to be inside of you, he smooched at the skin of your inner thigh, “God, you’re so fucking pretty. Can I touch you, beautiful? Can I make you feel good?” Why would you ever say no to that? Letting your calves lock around his, you lifted your hips up so that you could hump against Eddie, “Please, Eddie, for fuck’s sake!” And then he was fisting himself, lining the hardest part of his body up with the softest part of your own, “Hey, hey, look at me.” Locked in on Eddie’s blown out stare, you licked over your bottom lip, which only made him groan. Dropping his chin, he shook his head, “You- you can’t look at me like that, baby. I’m going to cum before I ever get to feel you if you keep that up.” “But, I didn’t-” Running a hand through his hair so that it fell over his shoulder, he husked, “You can’t help it. You’re just so damned adorable and-” the expansive head of his cock caught at the slick circle of your quim, “-And I fucking love you.” Inhaling sharply, your body arched off the bed and straight into Eddie’s chest at his first breaching thrust. Hands tensing, your nails clawed at his forearms as he stilled, giving you time to adjust to his shattering length and stretching width. Distracting you, Eddie’s mouth dotted kisses along the base of your throat and over your jaw, before huskily growling into your ear, “I’m gonna move now, ok?” Noiseless, you nodded as Eddie kept his word. Withdrawing slowly, Eddie was exercising all the control he possessed to ensure that you got the best of him. And even with his concentration focused on the long, smooth strokes of his thrusts, he still managed to touch you, kiss you, mumble out sounds like yes and fuck and your name. “Eddie, more, please?” You hadn’t meant to whine but he felt so good that you wanted all you could get. It was as if you had cut him free by asking that question. Eddie let his body reply, rolling his hips, no longer pulling free from your velvet vice. Instead he surged forward, deeper and deeper with every press of his pelvis against your own.

Your sweaty skin had gone over goosebumps, a shivering, shining sensation spiraling from your core. You found your voice but could only manage to whimper as Eddie let a free hand rake over your thigh before his fingers landed on your clit, rubbing in light circles. The contact made your muscles clench and through gritted teeth, Eddie cursed, “Fucking hell, sweetheart!” His reaction made you giggle breathlessly, “I’m so close Eddie. Are you? Are you gonna cum?” “Yea. Yea I am, honey. Can you hold on? Cum with me?” Hugging him, your back off the mattress, you peppered him with kisses, agreeing with a happy hum. Eddie kept his rhythm, the even movement of his fingers, and when he felt his own eminent ending, took a beat to encourage you, “Sweetheart, please? Let go for me, yea? Wanna- shit- wanna feel you cum around my cock.” Language like that would have made you embarrassed before but coming from Eddie’s sweet, sweet mouth it set you aflame, “Eddie! Yes! Yes, baby!” Your ruinous release arrived with a shout of his name. Going rigid under Eddie as he rocked into you, his palm pressed to the center of your chest, right over your heart, and then he shuddered above you, his forehead coming to rest against your own as you both fought to catch your breath.

But then Eddie pushed away, abruptly, the overflowing spend of his ecstasy wetting your thighs. It left a cold and empty gap between you when he turned his back to you, his shoulders hunched. Sitting up, you moved to Eddie’s side, “Eddie? Are you- are you ok?” There was no answer, so you crawled to his side, but he avoided looking at you, so you draped a hand on his meaty quad, squeezing slightly, as you asked, “Babe, what’s going on?” Kneeling on the bed in front of the man who just gave you two delicious orgasms, you were utterly shocked at the sight that met you; Eddie, skin shiny from sweat, sitting cross legged, was biting into his knuckle. It was the reason which broke you. He was crying. Tough, beautiful, Eddie Munson was crying. Sobbing really, and to stifle the sound, his teeth were gouging into the flesh of his finger. Once more he tried to avoid you, but you were quick to pull his arm down, “Eddie, what happened?” “I-” his voice was thick, embarrassed and full of emotion, “-I’ve never- What we just did, I-” When you realized that he couldn’t get the words out, you took his hands in yours, kissing over the pulse point of each wrist, “Imma need you to take a deep breath, babe. There ya go!” And you praised him when he inhaled brokenly. Puffing out his cheeks on the exhale, he allowed your clever fingers to wipe away his tears, apologizing, “I’m so sorry. So sorry, sweetheart.” “For what? Where’s this coming from?” “For being a big baby, now, after we just-” damp and wet cheeked, his pretty brown eyes found yours in the dim, “-after we made love.”

“Oh, Eddie.” Your hand cupped his cheek and he leaned into the warmth he found there, sighing. For the first time in your relationship, you were able to offer Eddie the sort of comfort and care that he had shown you so many times. Wasting no time, you straddled his lap, wrapping him in a hug. He hooked his chin over your shoulder, “I just- I’ve never had anyone love me. Not like this and-” You silenced him with your lips, your tongue prying into his mouth, drinking the sadness from the source. All of your want, all of your love, all of it went into the kiss you laid on Eddie. When you leaned back far enough to stare at your man, you were met with his earnest expression, still raw and real.

Your forehead nudged into his, a half-smile playing on your lips, “Hey.” “Hey.” Still sounding sad, Eddie let a chuckle burst out of him, but you found it endearing, encouraging. Eddie let his hands find a place on the thick meat of your tush, keeping you close as you nuzzled into his neck, “I love you, Eddie. All of you. And for so many reasons.” “Yea?” He sounded like he still couldn’t believe it. That this was all too good to be true. Pulling back on his hair, he hissed but didn’t try to stop you. “Yea, Eddie. Yea, I do. I fucking love you.” Then he was laughing. A joyful, open, happy sound that brightened the room and made you smile wide. Eddie lightly slapped your ass, his fingers digging into the flesh of your hips as he licked open mouth kisses along the top of your chest, leaving red marks along the way. Laughing too, you basked in the bubble of love that the two of you were creating. Dragging you to his side, your head rested against his chest, over your special spot. His heart was thumping, steady and strong, already lulling you to sleep, when you tipped your head up, “Merry Christmas, Eddie.” “Uh, Merry Christmas.” And what happened next, well in Hawkins, they say, that Eddie Munson’s small heart grew three sizes that day. On Christmas morning, Eddie cooked you breakfast, and made sure there was plenty of fresh coffee for Uncle Wayne to come home to. After the dishes were washed, you pulled his gift out of your snow stained bag, “This is for you.” “Aw, baby! You didn’t have to do this.” Shifting your weight, you nervously danced, “I know! But, well… OPEN IT!” The paper tore away quickly, revealing a framed photo of the two of you sitting on lounge chairs at Steve’s house, happiness visible on both of your faces. When he looked at the picture it was painfully obvious; you were in love even then. It was clear from the way you leaned into each other, your head resting right over his heart, exactly where it belonged. All you needed to make that love a reality was a Christmas miracle, but those only come around once a year. A lump rose in Eddie’s throat. Maybe there was something to this holiday after all. Something about love and caring and showing people how much they meant to you. Maybe it wasn’t about the cost of gifts or the wrapping paper; the ornaments or the parties. Maybe Christmas wasn’t so bad. Not if it brought you two together, once and for all. Shit. Steve had been right. Eddie was going to have to thank his friend for the motivational speech. When he saw your expectant look, Eddie cleared his throat, declaring, “I love it. Thank you, so so much.” Extending his hand, you took it, letting him settle you in his lap, humming, “And I love you, so so much.” When Wayne came home, you were curled in Eddie’s lap, his arm holding you close. Both of you were sleeping peacefully, the tv playing a repeat of the holiday parade. He shook his head, happy in his heart. Merry Christmas, indeed. —------FIN—-----

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wordynerdygurl · 2 years ago

Text

Fair is Fair

Author’s Note: Hello everyone! Welp, if you’re like me, you’ve been reading Stranger Things fics like it’s your job... and while I’ve already contributed a couple of stories to this phenomena, what’s one more? Pairing: Eddie Munson x Full Figured Female Reader Summary: After a race goes wrong, Eddie comes home and takes it out on you... It’s only fair!

Warnings: Older (slightly) Mean Eddie, so divergent from show canon. SMUT, over stimulation, masturbation, and sexy times! ENJOY! --------------------------------------------------------------

“So?”

“So, what?” It’s that tart reply from your sweet mouth which has Eddie sighing, standing back from the open hood of his ‘71 Oldsmobile convertible, wiping his oily fingers on a rag as he looks your way, “So- are you coming or what?” Ignoring him pointedly, you focus on the glossy magazine pages in front of you, playing with the white stick of your cherry Tootsie pop, canvas sneakers kicking against Eddie’s metal tool box. You are supposed to be helping him, at least that was the plan, but anytime he asked you for a wrench or to hold the flashlight, you’d peer at him from behind your sunglasses, innocently lying, “I don’t know what that is, baby. You do it so much better than me. You know I’m not mechanically inclined.”

And he let you get away with it because, well, you are his girl. His and his alone. Sitting pretty in a simple sundress, so clean and neat next to him as he works up a sweat tinkering with the engine, changing the oil, replacing spark plugs. He watches from the corner of his eye as you lean back in your crappy lawn chair, pushing your chest forward in a way that makes Eddie’s mouth water, wanting desperately to taste your candy coated mouth. It was all he could do to keep his oil slicked hands to himself. “Babe, please?” There’s a needy quality to Eddie’s voice, almost pouting, as he begs you to put him out of his misery. He’s jittery, unable to keep still and all around you the air is charged with his unspent energy. The hours before a race are always filled with anxious nerves, tonight is no exception. The radio is on; Top 40 shit, the stuff you like to dance to just to mess with Eddie’s head, merges with the sounds of the trailer park. A barking dog, a far off argument, honking horns and the nearby highway’s traffic. None of it was loud enough to drown out his sexually frustrated sigh aimed in your direction as he kicks his tool box shut with the toe of his boot. It’s the perfect time to let your inner brat out to play, when Eddie’s already running hot, and you just can not resist. Tilting your head, squinting under the dark lenses you’re wearing, “Is Jason gonna be there? He’s got the prettiest red ca-” An Eddie shaped shadow falls over you, blocking the sunlight and forcing you to cut your sentence short. Looking up at him with wide surprise in your eyes, blinking naively as he lowers to a crouch, Eddue chides you sincerely, “Don’t. Can’t tease me, baby. I need to know if you’re gonna be there, cheering me on.” The tip of his right index finger traces over your forearm. It’s his cleanest by far and damn, does he want to touch you. Stain your dress, your skin, the panties that he knows are rubbing places that he wants to feel. Eddie longs to remind you that you’re his lady and that means something, especially on an important night like this one. You know what he wants to hear, what he needs to hear you say, but you’re feeling brazen, bold even. So, you double down, denying him. Licking the tip of your finger, your tongue glistening red as you turn back to your Cosmo, flipping the page and flippantly pouting, “Babe- I don’t even like cars.” His arms flex and you pretend not to notice. It’s just that the sleeves of his well worn coveralls have long since been cut away, and you would be lying if you didn’t shiver at the sight. There’s a raw physicality to all of Eddie’s movements. A gracefulness that draws your attention and your body responds with the sharp tightening of your belly, your insides having gone gooey. It’s always fun to tease him, strut around in your cute outfits and make smart comments just to get him riled up. What Eddie didn’t know was that it takes all your mental strength not to throw yourself at him, quivering and needy in his arms. See, you’ve been watching him too, your sunglasses a decent disguise, as he bends over the yawning mouth of his car. Tendons flexing and releasing with every crank of his socket wrench make your mind wander. Sweat, rolling lazily down his neck, looks like water to quench a thirsty throat and you swallow hard at the unbidden image of licking away all of the moisture dotting Eddie’s brow. Dropping his head, Eddie exhales aggravation as his low, curling ponytail falls forward. The urge to tug at his silky strands is a tough one to resist but you shift your lollipop from one cheek to the other, pretending like your grease monkey of a boyfriend isn’t giving you pleading eyes in the hopes that you’ll relent and agree to come with him. Pulling a bandana out of his back pocket, Eddie wipes at his forehead, still eyeing you with a tight smile, “But uh, you like me, don’t ya?” Popping loudly you suck on your cherry pop, peering up at him over the rim of your shades, a satisfied smirk on your pretty lips as you reluctantly agree, “Yea.” “Then tell me you’ll be there!” he groans dramatically, his large hand laying on your warm thigh, careful not to smudge thick grease over your soft skin. “I want- no… I need you to see me when I win that race, baby.” He’s nudging at your arm, doing everything but begging for you to agree to come. You pose purposefully, pretending to think it over. Biting into your bottom lip, gaze never leaving him as you playact at considering whether or not to go to the races tonight when really you’re just taunting him. It’s a ruse, a facade, because of course you’re going to be there to witness his victory. You loved the guy after all. But you hold out a beat longer watching him squirm. Just when Eddie’s sure you’re going to bail on him, on the race, you nod definitively, “Fine. Fine! I’ll come.” Shooting straight to standing, Eddie grabs your hands tugging you along with him. He’s squeezing you tight to his chest as he spins you around, your feet kicking out at the uncomfortable feeling of being held this way, but when Eddie’s so happy, how could you deny him? “Yes! Fuckin’ A, sweetheart! It’s gonna be a great night!” Squealing with delight, you tap at his grimy shoulders, needing to feel the ground at your feet, “Eddie! You’re disgusting, babe!” Tapping a light kiss to your nose, he nods, making sure to rub his glistening skin against yours on your way down, “But you love it. You know you do!” Giggling now, he lowers you to the ground but keeps you in his arms, enjoying having you close. Who could blame him for pressing his lips to yours, that artificial cherry flavor filling his mouth as the kiss turns hungry, his hands grabbing at your bottom. The erection he was trying hard to hide could be felt against your hip, forcing Eddie to ask, “Wanna help me, uh, relax?” Any other time you would, no question. But being a brat wasn’t something that you could switch off so easily. Punching against his shoulder, you shake your head, “Eddie! I can’t.” Pushing a strand of hair behind your ear, Eddie sways with you, “Oh, you gotta something better to do, angel?” “As a matter of fact, I do.” And stepping out of his embrace, you turn to grab your lawn chair and magazine, headed for home without looking back. His smile falls at your abrupt departure, confusion filling Eddie’s shout at your retreating form, “Babe? Where ya going? You uh, you can’t leave me like this!” Over your shoulder you grin at his worried expression, “Gotta go get ready. Can’t be your trophy and not look like one, right?” “Fuck. That’s not fair.” It’s a needy whisper, but you hear it just the same. — The drive home was quiet. Painfully so. Eddie was pressing a wad of napkins to his face, still keeping pressure on his bleeding head, eyes closed. It wasn’t too long before the familiar gravel road of the trailer park could be heard under the tires as you turned into the grassy patch next to his van. He let you help him out, stretching his legs as he bent backwards, a pain filled grimace sitting on his face. Trailing behind him, the screen door bouncing shut, you watch Eddie go straight for the fridge and a cold beer. The blood soaked rags tossed into the stainless steel sink without ceremony. Silently you tiptoe to the bathroom in search of first aid. Wayne had raised Eddie, for sure, but boys will be boys and you knew there was bound to be some bandages and gauze somewhere. Digging beneath the sink you finally hit pay dirt, pulling a small white plastic box free, the latch sticking as you struggle to open it. When it finally pops you exhale happily at the sight of an ice pack, a box of band aids, and tiny tubes of ointment laying inside as if they had been waiting for this exact moment to be useful. Sighing, you push yourself up from the bathroom floor, “What a night.”It had not gone according to plan, that was certain. Tonight’s race had been a grudge match between Jason Carver and Eddie, and a bloody one at that. From the way both cars looked when it was all over you were amazed that no one had gotten seriously hurt. But it also meant that Eddie hadn’t won, not outright anyway, and his mood was as sour as you had ever seen. It had taken four guys to keep him off of Jason, the blond unwilling to shut his damn mouth, jeering Eddie as they both climbed out of the wreckage of once beautiful rides. No, it had been a truly terrible night and despite the crush of weariness climbing through your bones, you couldn’t put off facing Eddie any longer. While you had been scavenging for supplies, Eddie had flopped into a kitchen chair, his shirt lost somewhere in the transition. You can see new bruises ready to pop, purple and livid under his tattooed skin but somehow that adds to his appeal. Maybe your mind shouldn’t wander this way, but he is so pretty, broken and bleeding in the underlit trailer that you have to remind yourself not to crawl into his lap and kiss him silly. He’s brooding, you can tell from the angry energy of loss and disappointment swirling around him like the smoke from his cigarette. Sullen tension fills his tight shoulders making you think he’s hurting worse than he’s willing to admit. Swallowing thickly, emotional after such a strange night, you want nothing more than to love away all his hurts and make him whole again. Eddie sees you in the shadows, moving quietly and he can tell that you're staring but doesn’t say anything. Still nursing at his beer bottle, Eddie keeps his eyes on you as you flitter around the kitchenette, filling a small bowl with cool water, wrapping some ice into a mostly clean towel, trying for stealth and almost succeeding. Finally, you slide the first aid kit onto the table in front of him, plucking out what you’ll need before facing your man with a small smile, “We gonna do this, or what?” He doesn’t answer in words but Eddie spreads his legs wide enough for you to stand between them, dark eyes boring into yours. Squeezing at the rag, you raise it to his busted eyebrow, the blood stagnant now. Tilting your head, you catch his eye, “Ready?” It’s not a nod so much as a cock of his head, as if Eddie’s daring you to do it, but you read it as acquiescence and dab gently at the split skin. Immediately spitting out curses, Eddie jumps, “Shit! Fuck! ‘Hurts!” Steadying him with a gentle hand, you blow across the gash, thinking that he could probably use stitches, cooing, “I know, honey. But I gotta get it clean.” His hands grab at your wrist, stopping you, and he tips his chin your way. Dripping sarcasm, Eddie’s tone is mocking all your well intentioned attention, “You gonna take good care of me?” Electricity at his touch shoots through you and your mouth goes dry from the contact. You attempt to pull back, but he fortifies his hold on you, the rag dropping to the table with a wet thump. Raising his eyebrows in an unspoken question, he wants you to answer, needs you to talk to him. “I- I’m trying, babe. I want to-” “Want to what, huh?” It’s confrontational, bordering on mad, and it’s so unlike Eddie that it takes you by surprise. Licking over your bottom lip, you opt for straight honesty but it doesn’t do much to strengthen your voice. Whispering out in a rush, you reply, “Want to make you feel good, Eddie. Feel better.” “You’re gonna make me feel better, huh, sweets? You should. It’s your fault I lost tonight.” Shock registers on your face at his assertion, “What do you mean?” “Didn’t let me fuck you, did you? And then you turn up dressed like this-” his hand coursed down your side, stopping at the dip of your waist, “-and I had to drive thinking about how good you smell. How, damn, how soft your skin is-” His eyes lock onto your own, full of heat, “-Knowing you’d be wet and ready for me at the finish line.” Dark and prickly, Eddie’s voice rubs you raw, your core clenching at the sensation. It shouldn’t have been so attractive; the domineering tone, the tough grip of his hand, the acid laced way he talked to you. It shouldn't have been, but it was. “Cat got your tongue, sweet heart?” “Uh, no. No, I-” What can you say to him? Something in your silence pleases him, because Eddie clicks his tongue, lacing his fingers with yours, “I’d say it’s time you make it up to me. What do you think?” Nodding dumbly, you didn’t verbalize a response, and that wasn’t enough, not tonight, “Uh uh, pretty girl. I need to hear you. You said you were gonna make me feel better-” Eddie let his eyes rake over you, stopping at your wide hips, your overflowing breasts, your plush lips before cocking his head to the side, “-and I wanna know exactly what you mean.” It’s dead silent in the trailer. For the first time since you’ve known Eddie Munson there is no thumping metal music blaring from the back bedroom, no horror movie scream queen bellowing through tinny television speakers. Even the fan was off, so there was no buffer for the ragged inhale of Eddie’s heavy breath or the small whimpers you couldn’t seem to stop.“Eddie-” It’s a whine when you want it to sound strong, tough. “What?” He goads you, aware of the effect he has on you. Like you’re his guitar, Eddie plucks your strings, knowing just where to apply pressure and get you to sing. Still sitting, Eddie looked up at you with a bright, challenging glint in his stare. Never breaking eye contact, his hands fan over your pelvis, fingers plucking open the button of your tight jeans. Your stomach contracts sharply at the stray touch of his fingers, palm rough against the silk of your skin, Eddie daring to push past the elastic of your panties when you offer no resistance. You could feel his left hand snaking its way from the small of your back to work your jean skirt down over your hips. Wordless, Eddie tapped at your thigh, the command clear: get this off. Bracing yourself with a hold on his shoulders, you start to step out of your bright red heels but then Eddie growls, “Keep the shoes.”A wave of hot desire spikes through you at his gruffly issued order and you agree with a shake of your head, “Ok- ok, honey.” Grabbing the back of your thighs, Eddie jerks you closer, narrowing the gap between your bodies. Toying with the lacy trim over your bottom, he traced a thumb along the curve of your bum, grunting in a rusty voice, “These panties have a matching bra, don’t they? Come on, pretty girl, show me. Wanna see my prize- all of it, yea?” Gulping, you moved to step out of the vee of Eddie’s legs, but the way his ringed fingers dug into the globes of your ass kept you still. He wasn’t going to give you any leeway so you slowly dragged your thin shirt off, handing it over to Eddie with a sly smile. Hoping he approved, desperate to please, your voice small but hopeful, “Well?” Eddie surveys your nearly nude figure, now wearing just your frilly underclothes, the deep red color a perfect match for the heels he insisted you wear. Sucking in an appreciative whistle that sends sparks shooting through your core, he takes one more drag on his ciggie before dropping it down the neck of his nearly empty beer, his stare darkening with lust, “Ok. Let’s go.”He kicks to standing, sending the kitchen chair into the wall with a thud, and you jump at the sudden noise. Eddie was quick though, grabbing your arm firmly and spinning you around. Pinned behind your back, Eddie steers you into the living room, guiding you towards the couch. Your shoe catches on the rug, tripping you up, but Eddie rights you, rasping roughly, “Careful, pretty girl. Don’t want you to bruise those knees- yet.” Drawing in a shaky breath, you tried to face him but Eddie wouldn't allow it. Truthfully, he likes watching the way your thick ass moves under the transparent lace of your drawers as you stumble to try and match his heavy steps, all while tottering in your high heels. He may not have won the race tonight, may have crashed and burned in actuality, but he was absolutely certain that you were still his trophy. You had no idea what Eddie had planned but you couldn’t deny that his rougher treatment was making you ache in the places only he was allowed to touch. Every step made your hardening nipples itch against the textured lace of your bra cups. Each footfall forces you to clench your thighs together, making you strut in a stilted shuffle, afraid that your excitement would be evident. Eddie can sense your growing need, because he stopped short, pulling you tight to his chest just to feel you. His hands, they are all over you now. One cups the damp warmth of your mound, your body bucking into his palm, crying for his touch. The other wraps under your chin, turning your head for a sloppy, slick kiss. Groaning into your mouth, Eddie teases at your slit through the fabric of your panties, “So wet, pretty baby. So goddamned eager for me, aren’t ya?” Shaking your head, you mewl weakly, “Uh huh, just for you.” “Better be.” The gruff edge was back, forcing you to your knees in the middle of the living room, the ancient shag carpet not offering enough cushioning. He let you kneel there, stomping around you, before lowering himself onto the couch. Making a show of undoing his belt and unzipping his fly, Eddie wants you to watch as he gingerly frees his rigid cock, already so hard and dripping. Stroking himself slowly, seeing the way your eyes track every movement, Eddie grins, “Like what you see, sweetheart? Wanna taste?” Licking over your bottom lip, you scoot into the space between Eddie’s spread knees, agreeing with a nod of your head. Reaching out a hand, stroking over your cheekbone before lifting your chin, Eddie traces his thumb across your mouth, “Pretty, pretty baby. Open up for me, yea?” Compliant, you did as he asked, but you couldn’t contain the moan as you held still, waiting for the green light from Eddie. For a second he thought about denying you both the pleasure of a filthy blow job. Maybe he’d just jerk himself off, forcing you to watch and wait until he came in your open mouth. The idea made his blood surge, strengthening his erection. But then you whimpered. A small, sad, wanting sound that gave Eddie goosebumps and he realizes that you wouldn’t be satisfied, not like that, anyway. And he couldn’t be that mean to you, his best girl. No, you need to taste him, feel the dense, hot weight of him inside of you, and nothing else would do. Man, he really was too kind. Carding a hand through your hair, Eddie lowered your head to his waiting tip, “Alright, sweet thing. Show me how sorry you are.” Wasting no time once Eddie gave the word, you wrap your fingers around his shaft, licking over his coral hued head as you sigh at the salty flavor. Circling him with your tongue, just like you did with your cherry pop that morning, you sucked gently at the sensitive skin. The broken moan he emits is a sign that you’re doing a good job. “Fuck! God damn, you’re good at this!” He grits out through clenched teeth, a hand tangled in your tresses more to ground Eddie than to control you. The praise makes you proud, cocky even, and you inhale quickly before sliding down the entirety of his impossible length. Burying your nose in the wiry hairs at his root, you hollow your cheeks, earning a grunt from the man above you. Swallowing, your throat constricts against him, pulling another ragged curse from Eddie’s parted lips. “You’re taking me so well, honey. I can’t- shit! Stop. Stop!” With a wet pop the suction you’ve generated breaks at Eddie’s insistence. Sitting back, disappointment flooding your features, you practically wail, “Eddie, I wasn’t done-” “I know. I know. I almost was-” pulling you into his lap, Eddie nuzzles into your neck, “-and I wanna cum deep inside your tight pussy, baby. It’s only fair, don’t you think?” “Yes, I- It’s only fair.” It’s easier to agree since you can’t really help yourself. Eddie has all the power here, over you, your body, your pleasure. He understands implicitly that the words he says and how he says them, coarse but also somehow sweet, drives you wild. Unhooking your bra, Eddie palms your newly freed breasts, dipping his head down to take one nipple between his lips. The painful pressure draws a ragged sigh from you as you tip your head back in enjoyment. Grazing the pebbled bud with his teeth, you rock into him at the new stinging sensation, “Shit!” Chuckling darkly, Eddie does it again before switching his attention to the other side, leaving hot kisses and purpling bruises along your chest as he goes. He carries his fevered frenzy higher, marking a line along your collarbone, stopping to sink his teeth into the muscle there. When you hiss at the pinching pain, Eddie lets go, licking over the marks he’s leaving behind. Beneath you the presence of his iron rod is hard to ignore. You can feel him, red hot and throbbing, through the webbing of your undies and overcome with desperation, you grind against him shamelessly. Begging now, your tone whiny, “Please, Eddie, please! Let me show you how bad I feel.” “Aw, my poor baby. You want me to fill you up, huh? Give you this hard cock?” His tone is patronizing. It sounds sweet, kind even, but there’s enough of Eddie’s jagged edge baked into his taunts that it makes you wonder. Chewing on your bottom lip, you nod, doe-eyed with false innocence, “Yes. Please, baby?” Eddie, wasting no time, tears your panties off you leaving you bare and dripping. Directing you, he props you up against the back of the couch, legs spread lewdly but he adores the view, “Touch yourself, honey.” Confused, you start to move, arguing but Eddie stills you with a firm hand on your chest, “I told you. Touch yourself.” Huffing, you sit back, hands parting the petals of your pussy. Happily, Eddie hums, “There ya go. Good girl, listening so well.” Dropping into the gathering damp between your folds, you spread the slippery slick, rubbing in smooth circles over your firm clit. Your eyes flutter shut, enjoying the way Eddie is watching you, directing your movements. When you sink a lone finger into your tight channel, almost ready to release, he tuts, “Ready to cum? So fast, too.” “Can I?” It’s a breathless question, but your need is climbing fast and you don’t want to disappoint the wide-eyed man standing in front of you. Flashing his impish smirk, Eddie plays at misunderstanding, “Can you what, baby?” Cheeks flaming hot, you ask for his blessing in a tight sigh, “Can I cum? Please?” And Eddie lets you hang there, still stroking yourself, muscles tightening in preparation for your pleasure. He makes a show out of considering your situation, a long finger stroking over his chin in contemplation, a thoughtful shake of his head. Your thighs quiver and your quim quakes as you struggle to stave off the inevitable. Taking pity on you, Eddie resolutely steps between your folded knees, “I’ll give you the first one, but-” his rings score the skin of your calves, “-the rest of your orgasms are mine. Got it?” You would agree to anything, anything at all, if it meant that your body could let go of its building pressure. Tumbling out of you in clips and phrases, you acquiesce, “Yes. Yes. Thank you, baby. Thank you-” and a rolling wave of ecstasy crashes through you, fuzzing your vision and draining your strength. Chuckling, Eddie’s fingers replace your own, the aftershocks of your peak making you shudder. Panting, your chest rises and falls rapidly, a dopey smile on your face. You reach for Eddie, ready for cuddling and kisses, only to be denied. “My turn.” Draping your hip over his, spreading you wide, Eddie angles his aching dick toward your puffy pussy. Still loose-limbed, you wrap your arms around his neck weakly, stuttering at the aggressive push that buries his hard length inside you. The couch swallows you, pillows molding around you as Eddie fucks you into the foam cushions in quick, driving thrusts. When he isn’t pummeling your mouth with his talented tongue, Eddie is sucking purple welts and red bruises onto the skin of your neck and chest or, he’s whispering filthy thoughts in your ear: “You're taking me so well, baby. So good.” “God damn, you’re so wet, gonna suck me dry, aren’t ya?” “Oh, you like that, huh?” In your own delirious state, sex drunk, you claw into Eddie’s back, “I’m gonna cum, Eddie. Again. Oh god!” Wailing, you feel tears roll down your cheeks as your body goes limp beneath him. “Yea? That’s ok, sweets. That makes two, baby. Only three more to go.” He says through a clenched jaw, his own seminal release threatening to burst. Unsure if you heard him right, you risk a question, “Thr- three more? What are you talking about?” “One for every hundred dollars I lost tonight. It was a five hundred dollar stake, so, you’re gonna give me five orgasms. Fair is fair, princess.” Eddie is true to his word. He’s taken you on your hands and knees, insides shivering from the overstimulation, your ecstasy arriving in a howl as Eddie plied you full of his spend, the excess running down your parted thighs. You’ve been cradled to his chest, hips rising and falling to a rhythm all Eddie’s own, his ringed hands driving you down his shaft over and over and over, the orgasm washing over you in concentric waves as you fell apart chanting Eddie’s name in weakening whines. And now, now you’re on your back, the water stained ceiling tiles of the trailer blurring together as Eddie hums against your abused flesh, “One more time, baby. One more.” Shaking your head, you argue softly, “Can’t. Eddie, I-” Brushing wild curls away from his face, Eddie frowns down at you, “You can and you will, baby. For me, right? You said so yourself, it’s only fair.” But who can remember what you promised hours ago? Before your muscles were rubbery from overuse and when your vocal chords hadn’t yet been fried from continued moaning. What had you agreed to? As he lowers his lips to your parted folds, wide tongue lapping at your seeping center, your head snaps back, fingers tugging at Eddie’s hair. His nose grazes your clit and you stutter helplessly, “Oh, please!” Feeling the smirk on Eddie’s face, you can tell he’s enjoying your delirious pleasure in the way he presses deeper into you, virtually fucking his tongue between your folds. His arms are wrapped tightly around your thighs, holding you open to his oral assault, forcing you to experience bliss made real by his pillowy lips and textured tongue. Every time you try to break away, pushing against his hard skull, his grip tightens until you sag beneath him, too wiped out to resist. When Eddie sucks your slick clit into his mouth, you tense up, nervously calling his name into the quiet room. Sucking harshly, he draws on the tender, overworked bud, and you croak against him, “Too much! It’s too much! Gotta- gotta stop, Eddie… Oh God-”

The world rolls over black and your ears fill with fuzz. Fragmenting, you break apart, like a glass shattering on the hard floor. Toes curl upward and your hands tense up with Eddie’s hair still in their grip. La Petite Mort indeed. Through the hazy fog you can hear Eddie’s voice, worry filled and anxious, saying your name. Eyes shut, you draw in a ragged breath, his name on your lips, “Ed- Eddie?” “I’m here, babe. I got you!” You can feel gentle kisses land on your cheeks, your forehead, your nose. Eddie’s curling his hand around yours, brushing hair from your face as he pleads, “Open your eyes, doll? For me? Please-” And it takes you a little longer than normal because every single molecule of your person has collapsed into an ecstasy fueled hibernation, but you manage to blink his way, a small smile on your face, “Hi.” Gathering you to him, Eddie pulls you close, his mouth against yours in a deep, soul stealing kiss. Holding your frame in his arms, eyes still full of concern, Eddie searches your face for reassurance that he hadn’t gone too far, “Are you ok? Thought I lost you for a minute there.” Shifting against him, you exhale deeply, “You did. I dunno what to call that, but-” now your smile widened, “-I think I saw God.” Eddie’s laugh, rumbling through you both, unsettles you and you wince at the contact with your overwrought core. So gently, he moves you to the couch, “Stay here, lemme get you something to drink.” After clanking around in the kitchen, he returns with aspirin and water, the blanket from his bed and a nightgown from your drawer in his dresser. When you’re sufficiently clothed and comfortable, Eddie joins you on the sofa, laying behind you so he can, “Be your pillow!” The television goes on, something silly, and Eddie just allows you to rest, his fingers playing with your hair idly. As you sit together, sleep stealing closer, you snuggle under his arm, “Hmm, I can’t wait to get your back.” “What’s that?” Fluttering your lashes his way, you lick over your bottom lip smiling at Eddie, “I think you owe me a couple of orgasms next time. Say, four? It’s only fair, right babe?” Jolting forward, Eddie starts, “What did you say?” Yawning now, you burrow under your blanket, pulling Eddie’s arm around you, “Next time you cum four times. Maybe you can have an out of body experience.” Snorting at you, your brassiness, your brattiness, you balls, Eddie nods his head, “Yea. Ok, fine. I guess that’s fair.” — FIN —

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wordynerdygurl · 2 years ago

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@wense-alliance ! Thanks for the reblog! 💚💚💚

Right Before Your Eyes

Author’s Note: Hey All! Here’s a little one shot from a list of prompts that @darkficsyouneveraskedfor offered up! I took #15 and made it a little more rom-com than dark… but hey, that’s the @wordynerdygurl in me!! Thanks to @sammy-jo1977 for being the best damn beta and cheerleader ever! My requests are currently closed, as of this posting, but check my Marvel Masterlist for other Loki stories! If you want to be added to my tag-list, let me know!! Pairing: Loki x Female Reader Summary: Odin gives Loki and ultimatum: find a wife, get the throne. The catch is finding the right woman for his queen. Good thing he has an advisor like you around! Warnings: Male on Female SMUT, Fingering, some soft-ish domination and fluffy, lovey dovey Loki

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“So what, exactly, are you saying, Father dearest?”

He wasn’t stomping his feet, at least not yet, but Loki was on the verge of a tantrum, that much was clear. The whole thing made Odin irritable. Speaking to his youngest over his shoulder, the aged ruler grumbled, “Find a woman, any woman that will have you. If you want to continue living under my roof, you’ll settle down properly, and start a family.”

Scoffing, put out at the suggestion of a boring old existence, Loki’s face broke into a sardonic smile, “Are you sure you want a mini me running ‘round these hallowed halls?”

Odin froze then, his good eye flashing a stern and steely warning, “Start with finding a girl who is… brave enough to take you on. Then we shall contemplate the existence of little Lokis running wild.”

Crossing his long arms, Loki sighed, “You don’t think I can find a princess, do you?”

Plopping unceremoniously into his throne, Odin shifted, feeling the heaviness of his long life in every limb. Waving off his courtier, Odin settled against the cushions with a hearty exhale, “Not a princess Loki. A queen.”

“But I’m not a king. At least not yet.”

“And you won’t be until you find your mate.” “Are you- What are you saying?” “I think you understand me perfectly. If you want the throne of Asgard. My throne. This-” slapping his palms against the golden chair for emphasis, “-throne, then you’ll find a queen.”

Afficher davantage

#wordynerdygurl #wordynerdygurl self reblog #wordynerdygurl master list #wordynerdygurl writes #wordynerdygurlwrites #loki x reader smut

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wordynerdygurl · 2 years ago

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A Little Tied Up

Author’s Note: Had an idea, ran with it! I’m participating in NaNoWriMo but couldn’t stop myself from getting this ditty out. It is a little rough because of this but I hope you enjoy! Pairing: Eddie Munson x Plus Size Female Reader Summary: Eddie’s got an idea, an awful idea. A terrible, wonderful, awful idea... and you’re all too happy to play along! Warnings: Restraints used in a committed relationship, SMUT, orgasm denial and SMUT.

It hadn’t taken much convincing. Eddie simply asks you, plainly, one morning while you’re sipping tea, reading through The Mists of Avalon and he’s noodling out a melody on his guitar, “You trust me, don’t cha?”

Marking your place by folding down the corner, you look up into the impossibly precious face of your devoted boyfriend, “Um, yea. ‘Course I do, baby. But-” gently sipping from your mug, you smile his way, “-What makes you ask?” His tongue pokes through those pretty pouty lips before Eddie’s wild grin breaks across his face, his eyebrows lifting under his curly bangs, “I have an idea.” Raising your own eyebrows questioningly, you offer an encouraging smile, “Oh yea?” Placing his guitar down gently, Eddie threads his fingers through yours, kissing over the bend in your knuckles as he tugs you closer. The cut neck of your sweatshirt is draping dangerously low and he can’t help but nip his teeth into the roundness of your shoulder, his nose in the crease of your neck, “Yea.” Brushing your hair back he bites into his bottom lip, clearly contemplating how much of his vision to share. Tipping your chin up, you nudge him, “You gonna tell me or should I try and guess?” “Well, the kids are coming over for my campaign and, and I kinda want you to stick around.” Scrunching your nose, you tilt your head, not quite understanding, “I had planned on that, babe. I know I don’t play, but I wasn’t gonna just leave you here-” “No, what I mean is, I want you waiting for me. Ya know?” His expressive face is working hard to fill in the gaps but you’re still not on the same page. “Like, for sexy times?” Chuckling at your immature phrasing, Eddie looks away for a second, his profile outlined so prettily against the window’s light, “Yes. For sexy times. I just have this vision-” turning back, those chocolate eyes darkening dreamily, “-of you, wet and writhing, just aching for me to come and ravish you.” You can’t lie. The words he’s saying spark something primal deep in your guts. Something that is slippery and slick, making your belly tighten as you nod subtly, already a little dazed at the suggestion, “Uh huh.” “But no one can know you’re there, pretty baby. You’d have to be real quiet. Maybe even, ya know-” you watch his Adam’s Apple bob as he gulps thickly, “-tied up. ‘Cause I can’t have you running around, not when you’re supposed to be mine. Ya know?” Hoarse and breathy, you hardly recognize your own voice when you answer, “And I would probably be naked, too, right?” “Oh, absolutely.” It’s a rapid response, Eddie’s hair bouncing in time with his agreeing nod. Inhaling, you lean back, just outside of the intoxicating circle of Eddie’s nearness. Your fingers find your mug again, wrapping around the seeping warmth there, “Let me think about it, ok?” Brushing his nose against yours, Eddie pushes a small kiss to the corner of your lips, “Of course, princess. Whatever you want to do, you know I got you.” And as he reaches for the neck of his instrument you move to stand, resting a hand on his arm, “Ok, yea. Let’s go.” Tearing down the narrow hallway towards his bedroom, you giggle, knowing he’s going to catch up to you. There’s laughter in his voice when he bellows, “Oh, darlin’ are you in trouble!” Shucking your clothes was fun, easy even. Eddie really loves loving on you, his calloused fingers find your curves enticing, his lips marking you as his. Distracting you with his talented tongue, his kiss stealing your breath as his hands coast along the expanse of your ribs, he hums, “Hmm, I think you like being at my mercy. Do you? Huh, pretty lady?” Hell yes, you do. Settling underneath his body, your nude hips rudely spread below his denim clad ones, the friction on your skin is overwhelming. Mewling weakly, you lift your pelvis, angling for more, “Yes, Ed, I do. I fucking love it.”

Sitting back on his heels, Eddie makes a big show of unhooking his cuffs from the bedpost, ensuring that you can see every move he makes. Cocking his head to the side, it’s his non-verbal way of giving you one last chance to decline and you buck your hips below him, “Go on.” “I fucking love you.” He says it in a disbelieving way, as if Eddie doesn’t truly understand that you’re his, willingly and wantonly his. “Sames, babe. I fucking love you.” With your declaration the soft snick of the cuffs locking your wrists to the headboard fills your head and you bite your bottom lip as you snuggle into the pillows at your back. Eddie, overeager, takes advantage by cupping your mound. Tutting out his mock disapproval, he teases, “Uh, baby, you’re so wet I could probably slide inside you with no problem.” “Eddie! Please?” You sound so desperate already, so needy, that your pleas are high pitched and whiny. Also, you want him to do it. Take you right here and now with no way to stop his hedonistic conquest of your bound body. A finger teases at your damp core while Eddie keeps his steady eyes on yours, “Begging me already huh? Well, we can’t have that. Not when people are here ‘cause then they’ll know what a dirty little slut I’ve turned you into.” And words that should fill you with shame instead set you aflame. You shift on the sheets, stretching your fingers as if you could possibly reach the luxurious curls that tickle along your tummy, a sigh of frustration ringing through you at the limited reach your bonds provide. Eddie licks his lips from between your knees, looking up at your body with fresh hunger on his face, “Gotta relax, honey. It’s gonna be a long campaign.” He slips one finger between your parting petals and your sob childishly, “How- how long? Exactly?” Rumbling low, an evil chuckle breaks through your lover, “Two-” a second finger widens the stretch of your canal making you throw back your head, with an animalistic groan, “-Maybe, three hours? Four tops.” Eddie works his middle and ring fingers deeper. It feels so delightful that you need a few extra seconds to process what he’s telling you but when you do, sputtering you moan, “Hours? Eddie, I- I don’t know if I can-” “You can and you will.” His voice is firm, almost as hard as his dick which is straining against the brass teeth of his zipper, “‘Cause if you don’t, well, I won’t let you cum tonight.” And that was a threat with teeth. But you did have a card to play, so, flashing Eddie your biggest, roundest puppy eyes, you soften your tone to it’s syrupy sweetest, “But Eddie, babydoll, honey, sweetie pie. You’re gonna be gone so long and I just- I just need you now. Can I, pretty please, just-” A slap, more sound than sting, cracks along your inner thigh. When you push like this, Eddie gets bossy. Tough. The right kind of mean, and he’s in that zone right at the moment. “No, you can’t cum. You can’t just do whatever you want whenever you want.” Stalling their pace, his clever fingers curl into your velvet walls but hold still, making you gasp as he adds, “You’re gonna stay here, without cumming, until I get back and you’re gonna be grateful. Because you-” lowering his face to yours, “-little miss, said you would. And I’m holding you to your word.” Disappointed that your little plan to wiggle free has backfired, you begrudgingly comply through clenched teeth, “Fine. I- I can do it. I can- I will wait for you.” With that phrase falling from your bitten lips, Eddie’s hand starts moving again, his fingers scissoring you open as new arousal arrives in earnest. Quivering, your internal muscles start fluttering, eager to hold Eddie’s hand deep enough inside of you to ensure an orgasm of epic proportions. Your legs tense, ready for your pleasure to over take you, ready to fall over the cliff of your climax when Eddie pulls away from you, “Uh uh. Not yet, pretty girl.” You squeal wretched and wrecked, “Eddie! You can’t! Please! Please? Please. Don’t leave me like this.” You bang the cuffs against the metal frame, your frustration coming to a head but he just tosses his curls, smiling so deep his dimples deepen, “Honey, I wasn’t planning on it!” Huffing, you smile his way, relief flooding your features, “I knew you wouldn’t. I’m sorry.” Standing beside the bed, Eddie drags his bandanna from his back pocket, bending to kiss you deeply, his tongue licking into you wickedly. When he breaks from your lips, trailing pecks along the line of your jaw, you get lost in the sensations of his rough touch on your cheeks, so you don’t realize what he’s doing until it’s too late. Stuffing the folded fabric between your parted lips, Eddie proudly grins, “I’m gonna leave you like this: bound and gagged, your needy pussy begging for me.” Muffling your moaning, angry response, the gag does its job well. Satisfied with his work, Eddie rummages through his closet for a second before triumphantly looping a busted brown leather belt around one ankle, fastening it to the foot board. When he does something similar to the right side, you realize that you’re painfully on display, dripping and exposed to anyone who might stumble into Eddie’s room. Entirely unable to cover yourself or move at all. “God damn, you’re a fucking sight, sweetheart. Thanks for, ya know, doing this for me.” Warm, his palm skates over your taunt calf, the goosebumps that rise making you shiver, “Now, sit pretty for me. I’ll be back soon.” Those parting words hang in the air as he gently shuts the bedroom door, leaving you in silence. You strain to hear Eddie’s plodding steps through the trailer, the sounds of him setting up his Dungeons and Dragons event soon overtaken by his stereo kicking to life. Any chance of you being heard will be lost to the thrumming electric guitar riffs that screech from his speakers. Maybe you could sleep? Willing calm into your awkwardly stretched limbs, you inhale a steadying breath, shutting your eyes. Sinking into the playful, fantasy fueled side of your mind, you imagine what you must look like through Eddie’s eyes. You think about his hands, strong and clever, which had come so close to bringing you to ecstasy.

The doorbell trills, pulling you from your sexy thoughts. You make out the tones of Eddie’s Hellfire Club members trudging inside, joking and jeering as they make themselves comfortable. The music gets turned down, Eddie’s voice raising above the din, “Lemme grab the stuff from my room. Hang here, k?” His steps come closer and you almost vibrate at his return, the doorknob turning before Eddie shoves open the door, too wide in your opinion, shouting down the hall, “Guys! Give me a minute! And don’t eat all the Pringles, Gareth!” That he was holding the door open the entire time is enough for your panic at the threat of being exposed to the gang, but that’s why he was doing it, wasn’t it? Dropping his voice to that husky grumble which melted your resolve, Eddie grabs at your breast, squeezing, “You are doing so good, baby. Such a good girl, huh? Nobody knows you’re here, barely holding on, but me.” You hate yourself for doing it, but you press your chest into his hand, seeking more of his touch. You try to answer, speak your mind, but the gag has silenced your speech. Eddie toys with the soaked material, “I know, kitten. I know. Lemme get back to the boys-” but he pauses at the foot of the bed, staring at your juicy core, tugging at the leather strap holding you still, “-unless of course, you want them to know what you’re doing in here- you don’t, do you?” His fingers smack against the meat of your hip drawing a muffled moan from your full mouth, Eddie’s nails scraping nearer to the place where you want him the most, “I mean, you don’t want me to show Gareth and Jeff that I have all this when they have to go home and jack it like creeps, right?” Wild eyes widening, you jerk your head back and forth, desperate to convince him not to follow through on his line of thought but you go dumb when his thumb presses firmly against your clit. That stomach tightening feeling returns quickly as Eddie rubs in counter-clockwise circles, savoring the way your legs shimmy from denying the overwhelming need to snap shut under his rough attention. Huffing around the bandanna you beg with your tear filled eyes for the release you’ve already been refused once, the heat from unspent erotic energy visible in patches on your skin but you whimper brokenly when Eddie withdraws, sucking his thumb between his lips, “Soon, sweetheart. I promise.” How long ago was that? Second? Minutes? Hours? Time as you normally understand it has ceased to exist in the expanse of time since Eddie shut his cool steel cuffs around your wrists.

Throughout the afternoon you could hear the guys cheer and roar, encouraging each other or arguing their next move, their shouts lively and excited echoing from the living room. Eddie’s voice, theatrical as always, booms out story lines. Dustin burps loudly and you hear more footsteps, ones that are not Eddie’s, move your direction. A moment of panic grips you before blessed relief floods through you as you recognize the familiar sound of bathroom door slamming shut.

A sheen of sweat dampens your skin at the thought that one of the Hellfire boys will find you on display like this. Entirely exposed without a way to shield yourself from anyone who might stumble into Eddie’s room, you have to admit, you could not remember ever being so turned on in your life. Damn him and his erotic flights of fancy! You study Eddie’s ceiling, fascinated by the water stain that looks like a singing face when you tilt your head sideways. And you’re never going to look at his Iron Maiden poster in the same way again. How could you when you’ve been staring at it unceasingly for hours now? The noises you’re hearing shift. There’s rattling cans and the sound of a trash bag being shaken open. When the front door opens, you can hear muffled good nights and your eyes shut, grateful that you’ve made it through your own sadistic campaign. Eddie bounds down the hall practically knocking the door off its hinges, “Hi honey! I’m home! Did you miss me?” You make a growling sound behind your gag, the fabric completely sodden now, and making your jaw ache. It’s the first thing Eddie removes, “Oh, poor baby!” “Eddie, baby, please?” Sounding weak, you want him to take pity on you. You want him to let you go so that you can touch him. You want to make him weak from wanting just like he’s done to you. “I know, sugar. But you look so perfect. Let me make you cum, pretty girl. Let me get you off like you’ve been thinking about for hours.” Your skin is cool under the heat of his hands and you arc into the warmth that radiates off of Eddie. Leaning over you, Eddie drops his full lips to your breast, first suckling at the left nipple before repeating his attention on the right side. You’re stuck accepting all of his teasing, your body dripping as your pussy begs hotly for Eddie. This is where the inability to touch him is cruelest. You want nothing more than to bury your hands in his hair and direct the focus of his thick tongue to your begging center. Instead you can only writhe pitifully, “Oh god, feels so good, Eddie but more- I, I need more!” He releases each of your ankles but doesn’t give you the chance to close your legs. Using his wide thighs, Eddie holds you open, mesmerized by the mess between your thighs, “You’re so ripe, sweetheart. So fucking juicy. Let me have a taste, yea?” Catching under your knees, Eddie bends you half, your cleft splitting open for him. Sucking hotly down the dimpled skin of your inner thighs, he pauses to bite into the pliant flesh there, marking you with the purple stains of his passion. A small, sweet kiss pushes against the straining bud of your clit and then Eddie’s tongue is swirling around your pleasure center in tight rings. Jerking against your restraints, you sputter, “Ed- Eddie! Fuck!” But he doesn’t relent. Licking deeply now, it feels like he’s on a mission to drink you dry, his tongue dipping inside of you, fucking shallowly into your tight tunnel. It’s not deep enough, not firm enough to bring you to climax, but it feels amazing just the same. Shifting your legs over his shoulders, Eddie’s hair tickling the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, he slurps rudely at the lips of your labia before licking up to your clit once more. His lips attach there, sucking on you the way you would service the head of his cock, and grind your hips up as much as you can, desperate for release, “Don’t stop, please, please, don’t. I need you. Please!” Two fingers fill you expertly, the tips scraping against the front wall of your cunt, and your muscles lock up hard and fast. Thrashing, you toss your head, shifting your hips as if you could break the suction of Eddie’s lips. But he holds on and you fall to pieces, screeching out the name of the devil who torments you in the most delicious manner, “Eddie! Fucking Eddie!” The cuffs come off along with all of Eddie’s gear. With no preamble, no introduction, Eddie fucks into you with everything he has, savage and sweaty. His hands gouge your ass, palm prints that will stay with you for days, and you- you grab his long locks, jerking his mouth to yours hungrily. “Come on, Eddie. Give it to me. I’ve wanted you all day.” Hammering hard, his hips pummel yours without pretending to be gentle. All you can hear is Eddie’s ragged breathing and the squelch of your slit around him. You feel it- the telltale sign of another orgasm growing in the wet warmth of your belly and you sob, “Eddie-” “I know honey, I can feel you squeezing me. You’re gonna make me cum, baby. ‘Cause you take me, fuck, you take me so well. Like you were made for me. Shit! Shit!” And you feel the arrival of his release, triggering your own. Clinging to Eddie, your nails clawing into his shoulders, you ride out the aftershocks of your ecstasy as he shudders above you. Kisses, sweet and soft, land on your cheeks, your forehead, the tip of your nose. When he lays his lips over yours, you part them, gladly, and let your tongues twirl around each other. Pushing up on his toned arms, Eddie looks down at you with that sly smirk on his face, “Hi.” “Hi, yourself.” You counter, brushing long curls from his neck, your fingers trailing along his cheek His forehead rests against yours as he inhales a steadying breath, “So, what did you think? Was my idea a good one?” Giggling, you shake your head, “It was good enough for me, Eddie. How about you?” Rolling off of you, Eddie lands on his side, pulling you into his arms, “I think I should tie you up more often.” That makes you laugh out loud. You kiss him again before standing up on wobbling legs. He moves to help but you wave him off, “I’m ok. Need the bathroom and some water.” As you start to leave the room, you turn back to Eddie with his hands laced behind his head, elbows spread over the pillow as he looks at the ceiling, “Eddie?” “Yea, babe?” “You trust me, don’t you?” And you watch as his eyebrows arch into his sticky bangs, “‘Course I do, but, what makes you ask?” “Because next time, you get cuffed to the bed.” —FIN—

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