#rockstar!eddie x photographer!reader

[urhoneycombwitch]

Heyyy! Just a quick little request that has been TAKING over my mind. GN!Reader that LOVESSSSS photography x Rockstar!eddie. LIKE Reader will be taking photos of him whenever because he’s just so goddamn pretty playing his guitar. And Eddie will snatch film and shit for them. I’d like to think that they both have Polaroid pictures of each other. Bonus points if reader doesn’t like taking pictures of themselves but LOVES taking pictures of Eddie. I DONT KNOW I JUST THINKS ITS CUTE AHHHHH. if it’s fluff, smut, whatever, you do you! :D Byeeeeeeeee

as a film photographer myself i feel uniquely qualified to add to this tysm anon 💖

gn!reader, +18 mdni

Eddie absolutely gets you the good shit. he makes it a habit to visit the local camera stores at every city when he’s on the road, shells out for high-quality film cuz you taught him right and he actually listens when you talk about your interests!!

constantly surprising you with new gear. he’s never had money like this before and the fact that he can actually buy his partner things is so fucking thrilling. if his baby wants a vintage Rolleiflex with Planar lens that’s what’s getting boxed up for ‘em.

once you and Eddie settle on a house, he sets up a whole darkroom on the lower floor- lets you pick out all the details, hires a plumbing guy to hook up water so that you can do your own film baths. Jonathan Byers is equal parts green with envy and grateful that you’re willing to share the space w/him whenever he comes out for a visit 😇

before you, Eddie never really liked his picture taken, tolerated the ordeal at best- Wayne showed you an old photo book one time, groused about his nephew making odd faces and being squirmy in front of the lens even as young as 4 years old. you’ve made up for it a hundred times over, tho- Eddie learned quick that you wouldn’t take no for an answer when it came to your new muse.

you’ve got probably over a thousand pictures of him by now, in different states across the country, some on stage in full makeup shredding on guitar, a few that are widely recognized as Corroded’s album covers- but most are quiet, intimate. there’s this one you keep in your wallet, makes your heart flutter every time: Eddie leaned back in the grass on his elbows, soft sunlight filtered through the magnolia tree in your backyard, eyes crinkled at the corners and fixed on you behind the camera.

he’s got a bunch of you, too, of course- mostly Polaroids that are decidedly not for public eye. keeps those like a true gentleman safe in a shoebox under your bed at home: images burned into his brain by this point to take with him in memory while on the road. the soft shape of your thigh against a downy duvet, gleaming pearlescent with his cum. another of his hand wrapped around your throat, rings digging into gentle flesh under the blissed-out smile of your mouth that makes him ache somethin’ fierce just thinking about it.

there are others that he does keep in his wallet, more tame but just as searingly intimate, ones he’s taken after cajoling you in front of the lens or having won a tussle over whose turn it was to shoot whom. one of you with guitar cables looped neatly around either arm after a gig, nose crunched and mouth halfway to telling him off, irritation and fondness captured in bright flash. another of you stretched out in the front yard, one hand at your forehead to block the afternoon sun, the other resting placid on your stomach as you looked up at him.

“This one’s mine,” Eddie always says when asked about you, showing off the latest picture with a deep well of love and pride. he may as well start carrying an album for all the photos he carries of you.

[justmeinadaze]

Secret Underneath (Steddie X Plus Size You)

"She's got a secret underneath (she's got a secret underneath) Yeah, she's his naughty little freak (yeah, she's his naughty, little freak) She likes to put on a show (she likes to put on a show) She likes when he takes control (she likes when he takes control)"

A/N: This came from utter annoyance at men online and just desperately trying to find a confident man who cares.

ENJOY!

Warnings: Sugar Daddies Steve and Eddie/ Baby Fem Plus Size Reader, SMUT, daddy kink (cause im me), blindfold, toys, voyeurism (I guess. They watch her pleasure herself on cam), dirty talk. Sub/dom dynamics, oh um age difference even though its not mentioned (guys are about mid to late 30s and Reader is in her mid to late 20s)

ANGST, Reader is assaulted by an ex (mentioned but not expanded on) boys comfort her, mentions of her wanting to be held and tired of feeling lonely, guys online try to flirt in the beginning but she shuts them down. I think that's it. Cliffhanger ending because again...Im me.

Word Count: 5555 (ooooo :P)

“I can take care of a young little thing like you. You’re perfect”

“If I’m perfect why do I need someone to take care of me?”

“Do you want to help Daddy finish, baby? My big hard cock needs some help.”

“Oof a real Daddy doesn’t need to announce how big his cock is. Try again, little boy.”

“I bet a little girl like you needs to be put in her fucking place, you stupid fucking slut. Now get naked and send me nudes or else.”

You role your eyes as you promptly block the person who sent you the message. When you signed up for this sugar baby website you were hopeful to find someone who wasn’t like the “men” you had talked to on regular dating apps. You wanted someone who knew what they were doing, confident, and could handle your sass without running. 

You had met a few who could live up to the title but none you wanted to keep around long term. 

Sliding your mouse through the images, you found a profile that intrigued you. The image attached wasn’t of one man but two and it didn’t show their faces. It wasn’t odd for the Babies to want anonymity like yourself but your profile picture at least showed all of you in your curvy glory with a mask blocking your eyes and lingerie blocking everything else. Daddies always felt the need to show off so usually their profile images accentuated their faces and/or their money.

These two, with an account named Mogul/Rockstar, were only photographed from the neck down and it was definitely a picture they took, not some professional or anything like that. The man on the left had a black, well fitted suit with his admittedly gorgeous hands holding a glass of whiskey. The man on the right was a bit less put together with torn jeans and a blue jean vest over his bare chest just barely blocking the tattoos that peaked out. You assume he must have long hair because the ends of wavy locks rested on his shoulders.

When most men reached out to you it was with some silly pick-up line or innuendo. This profile, however, simply sent you one word; “Hello.”

(8:45pm) “Hey there. Not much for words?”

(8:47pm) “We imagine you’ve heard them all. : ). “

(8:48pm) “Are you really two people? Or do you just have an extra ego?”

(8:48pm) “Oh or let me guess! Your dick is so big it counts as another person.

(8:50pm) “I mean my friend IS a big dick but lol”

(8:51pm) “Yeah, honey, it’s really two people. We like to be clear about that. Any Baby that becomes ours would be just that; ours. 

(8:53pm) “We’ve learned pretty quickly not many women feel comfortable with two Daddies which is absolutely fine and why we are up front.”

(8:54pm) “How up front are you being really when you don’t show your face?”

(8:55pm) “Hm. Not a yes girl. I like that. It’s good to ask questions. 

(8:57pm) “We do that for a couple of reasons. One being we are well known faces so we don’t want a Baby to choose us solely on that.”

(8:57pm) “Because you don’t want to be embarrassed?”

(9:00pm) “Asking questions is good. Interrupting isn’t. Don’t do it again.”

(9:01pm) “Or what?”

…

(9:08pm) “Or what, huh?”

(9:15pm) “Fuck you! Ignoring isn’t very Daddy like!”

(9:16pm) “Oh? Did little baby get her feelings hurt? We don’t ignore as punishments but you aren’t ours yet, sweetheart. If you don’t want to follow any rules that’s fine. We can just continue looking and you can be a brat with someone else.”

(9:18pm) “I’m sorry.”

(9:19pm) “What’s the other reason?”

(9:22pm) “Actually, that’s the biggest reason. Our fame gets in the way of a lot of things if you can believe it. Expectations are ruined and certain ideals are put in place.”

(9:23pm) “My reputation as a rockstar makes some ladies think I can’t be soft and I definitely can. Our image isn’t solely who we are.”

(9:25pm) “I can understand that. Being a bigger girl people think I’m either desperate or my weight becomes a fetish to them. Which, I mean, fetishes are fine but men make me feel like…it’s the ONLY reason they are sexually attracted to me.”

(9:26pm) “And not because of your personality. Yeah…”

(9:28pm) “Is that why you’re a bit of a brat? Lol need to weed out the idiots?”

(9:30pm) “Something like that. Lol.”

(9:32pm) “Baby, I think my friend and I are in agreement that we’d like to try this out if you’re willing. You don’t have to see us or do anything you don’t want. Per the anonymity that was mentioned, we aren’t going to give our names so you don’t have too either. We also won’t be showing our faces so, again, you don’t have to.”

(9:33pm) “More than anything, we just want someone to look out for and talk to. Maybe make you feel good from time to time if you let us.”

(9:35pm) “Ok, Daddy.”

(9:36pm) “Good. Good girl. : ). We can talk on here until the three of us get more comfortable and then we can give you our numbers so you can talk to us there or individually. As you can imagine, rockstar travels a lot and so do I for deals so we aren’t always together 24/7.”

(9:40pm) “Are you both friends or partners?”

(9:42pm) “Friends for sure.”

(9:43pm) “Ok, baby girl, we’ll let you go but we’ll talk to you tomorrow. Get some sleep.”

(9:45pm) “Good night, Daddy.”

(9:46pm) “*Daddies”

(9:48pm) “Good night, honey.”

(9:48pm) “Sweet dreams, princess.”

As you laid in bed that night, you couldn’t help but wonder who they could be. You did some quick googling of businessmen who were friends with rockstars but that was stupid because that was a very common friendship found within industries. Rolling over, you plugged in your phone to charge it, pausing when you heard it ding.

Mogul/Rockstar deposited $300 into your account!!

Wow. No man had ever sent you that much just for an introductory conversation. Maybe because it was two of them they felt the need? As you drifted off to sleep, you found yourself getting more and more curious about them, dreaming of possibilities that may come to be.

############

That first month went by a lot smoother than you expected it to when it came to this account. They were incredibly kind and genuinely seemed to care about your day and what you were up to. Any time you voiced any kind of concern, they listened and did what they could. For example, you wished you could tell who was responding when since at the moment they replied as one. A few minutes later Rockstar changed his text to be red so you knew you were talking to him. 

When it came to finances, they were more than generous, giving you a set amount of $500 at the end of each day. They never once asked for anything sexual or made innuendos about their bodies or yours. 

As the second month began however you found yourself getting antsy.

(6:42pm) “May I ask a question?”

(6:43pm) “Yeah, of course, anything, honey.”

(6:45pm) “Can we do something…I mean can you help me…”

(6:46pm) “We can help with anything, princess. You just have to ask like a big girl.”

(6:47pm) “Can you…help me cum…”

(6:47pm) “Please, Daddy.”

(6:48pm) “We can do that for you, pretty girl. If you want. You remember the rules?”

(6:48pm) “Yes, Daddy.”

(6:49pm) “You don’t even have to turn on your camera or mic or anything. You can just…watch me.”

(6:50pm) “We never do anything we don’t want to do.”

(6:51pm) “But we would love to watch you cum. Do you have toys or were you just going to use your fingers?”

(6:53pm) “I have toys, Daddy.”

(6:54pm) “I actually just got this rabbit vibrator but I have no idea how to use it.”

(6:57pm) Mogul/ Rockstar has invited you for a video chat.

Biting your bottom lip, you grab your mask and pull it over your eyes, checking your appearance in the camera box before clicking their link. The camera box was still just their image from the site which you expected but was pleasantly surprised when a husky voice flowed through your speakers. 

“Hey, honey. You don’t have to turn your mic on if you don’t want to. We just thought it would be fair since you’re about to vulnerable with us.”

You smiled as you turned on your microphone. 

“Is it vulnerable? It’s just…masturbating right?”

“I mean, are you playing with yourself on the internet for just anyone?”

The second voice that followed through sounded extremely familiar as if you heard it somewhere before. It was incredibly sexy none the less. 

“No.”

“Then I would say you’re being vulnerable, babe. Jesus, you are really beautiful by the way.”

“Thank you, Daddy.”, you beam.

“Can we ask why shorts and an oversized shirt? Most women wear the lingerie or a bra and panties.”

“Or are totally naked.”

“I just want to be comfortable. I’m not roaming around my house in a bra and panties.”, you giggle. “I take those off as soon as I get home from work.”

“Very fair. We’ve never asked what you do. Do you feel comfortable telling us?”

“I’m a teacher. Another reason for said anonymity.”

“Again fair.”

“Um, may I ask, whose voice is whose?”

“Yeah, pretty girl. I’m the Mogul.”

“I’m the rockstar.”

Smiling, you nod but you find yourself completely unsure of how to proceed. Usually, you could play innocent and do what you needed in the bedroom but something about these men were making you…

“Honey, are we making you a little nervous?”, Mogul asked in a sweet tone. 

“Yeah a little bit. I’m sorry.”

“No reason to be sorry, sweetheart. Can you do your Daddies a favor and show us the toy you got?”

Like a little kid in a store, your smile grew as you opened the box by your feet and produced the pink vibrator, displaying it for them to see.

“Is that your favorite kind of toy?”

“Usually men are but—” You quickly covered your mouth with your palm not meaning to let your sass slip out like that. Again, you were surprised when you heard both men laugh.

“I like that sassy attitude.”

“The confidence to.”, Mogul adds. “Don’t cover up that personality for us, baby girl. We’re big boys. We can handle it.”

“Most men can’t.”

“Most men aren’t us.”

“That’s for damn sure.”, you smirk as your thighs rub together. 

“Why don’t you take off those short for us, sweetheart?”, Rockstar suggests as you nod, rising from your chair to bring them down and toss them aside. “Good girl. Can you open your legs for us so we can see that pretty pussy?”

Licking your lips, you close your eyes as your open your legs giving them a good view. 

“Open your eyes, baby girl, and don’t move them from the camera.”, Mogul commands in a firm tone. “Jesus, man. I bet she tastes really fucking sweet.”

“And is really fucking tight. That toy is going to stretch you out I bet.”

You moan at their words as you tease your slit with the end of the vibrator.

“I wish you both were here to help me.”, you whine as you palm slides under your shirt to massage your breast. 

“Go ahead, honey. Push it into your cunt and tell us how it feels.”

Mewling, you easily guide it inside of you, the subtle vibration against your clit driving you crazy.

“Fuck, it feels so good, Daddy.”

“Yeah, princess? Fuck, I’ve never wanted to eat a pussy so bad in my life. Look at her. I just want her to ride my face till she cums over and over.”

“Fuck…yes.”

“You’d like that, baby? Make a mess all over Rockstar’s face.”

“Yes, Daddy.”

“Such a dirty little girl. Can you say it for us?”

“I’m…I’m a dirty girl. Fuck, Daddy, it feels so good inside of me.”

“Fuck, baby girl. You’re so fucking sexy. Make yourself cum.”

“Can I, Daddy? Please. I’m so close.”

“Yeah, sweetheart. You have our permission.”

Your body shook as you came, your hips grinding against the toy as you elongated your high. 

“Good girl, honey. Very good. Come back to us.”

“Th-thank you. Thank you.”, you grin as you bite your lip. “Wait, did you guys cum? I wanna hear it.”

“This was about you, babe. We didn’t touch ourselves.”

“Doesn’t change the fact that we’re really fucking hard though after that display.”, Rockstar laughed.

“Are you serious? You guys didn’t…at all. Most men do.”

The image in their camera box suddenly changes and their laps from the waist down come into your view. Both men were wearing shorts and you could vaguely see their bulges poking through. Their hands were gorgeous, one littered with rings that you assumed belonged to the rockstar. 

“Again…we aren’t most men.”

“Don’t make us have to remind you again.”

Nodding, you softly apologize as you lean back in your chair.

“What’s wrong, baby? Are you pouting?”, Mogul asks in a tone that makes you smile. 

“Not really. I just…I wish you could hold me.”

“Yeah…yeah, princess, we wish we could to.”

“Will you ever trust me enough to show me your faces?”

You listen as they heavily sigh.

“Maybe. Let’s just take this one step at a time, ok?”

After your good nights and lying in bed alone, you don’t know why but you begin to cry. You had been alone for so long, broken hearted from the bullshit your ex put you through. You loved what the site offered but you wondered if that momentary high would be enough to sustain you. You just wanted someone who would hold you and tell you everything was alright. Someone who would take care of you and make you feel safe so you didn’t have to worry anymore about…everything. 

As your phone dinged, you glanced at the notification that illuminated your screen. 

Mogul/Rockstar deposited $2000 into your account!!

Hardening your heart, you reminded yourself that you were strong, squeezing your eyes tightly shut as you forced yourself to sleep. 

##############

(6:15pm) “Hey beautiful. What are your plans tonight? Rockstar and I were thinking maybe the three of us could have a camera date and just talk. Nothing sexual.”

(6:17pm) “You don’t have to of course.”

(6:20pm) “Sweetheart, you know how we feel about you not answering.”

(6:25pm) “Shit, you guys. I’m so sorry. I was charging my phone while I was getting ready! I actually have plans tonight.”

(6:27pm) “Ooo that sounds like fun. Spending some time with friends?”

(6:29pm) “Not exactly lol My ex actually invited me to dinner so we could talk about some things.”

(6:30pm) “You’re going on a date?”

(6:32pm) “Um, I guess you can call it that.”

(6:32pm) “Is that a problem?”

(6:33pm) “We made it clear that if you agreed to be our Baby you would be ours.”

(6:34pm) “Virtually, yes, but the information and rules you gave me didn’t say I couldn’t go out on a date. 

(6:35pm) “What. Did you think I was just going to be ok with not knowing who you two were and never having you two fuck me or hold me. 

(6:35pm) “To not go on actual dates and feel wanted.

(6:36pm) “Needed.”

(6:38pm) “Didn’t realize you needed everything spelled out for you. Relationships take time. Like you we imagine, we’ve been burned before. We don’t want another whore who’s only dating us for our money or status. We deal with fake people enough!”

(6:39pm) “We like talking to you and you’re so beautiful. We WANT to see where this goes but if you’re in that much of a rush maybe this was a bad idea.”

This Baby is currently offline. You may leave messages for her and she will get this when she logs back in!!

***

(9:32pm) CurvyBabyWAttitude has invited you for a video chat!!

(9:34pm) Mogul/Rockstar declined your invitation for a video chat.

(9: 35pm) “Please…I need you…”

(9:38pm) “Now you need us? After your date I’m thinking didn’t go well since it’s 9:30.”

(9:39pm) “Try again, little girl. We aren’t the kind of men you use whenever you feel like.”

(9:41pm) “We have feelings to.”

(9:45pm) “What? No sassy come back? Nothing sarcastic you want to say?”

(9:50pm) Mogul/Rockstar has invited you for a video chat!!

“Jesus Christ. What happened, baby?!”

When you illuminated their screen, you were a complete mess. Your hair was frayed every which way and even under the mask covering your eyes they could tell your make up was smeared from tears. Your black dress that you had worn was torn at the sleeve, hanging down as you held it together with your hand. 

“Did that fucker hurt you?”, Rockstar growled. 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know who to call. I’m so sorry, Daddy. I should have stayed here with you. I’m just so tired of feeling lonely. As soon as that fucker showed me even a little bit of attention I just…”

You listened as they mumbled to each other, unable to make out what they were saying as you dried your tears with your fist. 

“We’re in New York right now. Are you close to that state?”

“Y-Yes?”

“Do you trust us? Say it.”, Mogul replies sternly when you nod.

“Yes, I trust you.”

“There’s a hotel outside of the city. I’ll message you the address and room number. You follow the instructions we give you to the letter. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

***

“Hi, um, I’m checking into a room…under, um, Baby Girl.”

You cringe as you relay the information but all the young lady does behind the hotel counter is beam over at you as she types on her computer. 

“Ah and here’s your key. Do you need an escort or anything?”

“Oh, uh, no, ma’am, thank you.”

“No problem! The gentleman said he would be right there.”

You glanced around you nervously as you rode the glass elevator up to the floor your room was at. You appreciated that they didn’t make you go to some run-down Bates Motel but you were still a bit on edge. 

Heading for the door, you paused taking a deep breath before putting in the key and slowly entering the room. It was a modest little room but lived up to its five-star rating just on looks alone. Shifting your gaze, you realized quickly you were alone but noticed a note with the words “Baby Girl” on the mattress. 

Lifting it up, you found a black silk eye mask one would use for sleeping folded underneath. 

“Please place this mask over your eyes and we will be right in. 

We know it took a lot of trust for you to drive out here so we’re trying to meet you halfway.”

Taking a seat, you sighed as you tried to put the thing over your head, struggling a bit as a bruise had begun to form where your ex tugged at your dress. 

The sound of the door clicking and swinging slowly open caught your attention as you froze in place. 

“Um, f-full disclosure, my eyes are closed as well. I couldn’t get this thing further down and I could see under the—” You point at the bottom of the mask as the door closed. 

Cologne filled your nostrils as footsteps walked closer to you. 

“Is it ok if I touch you so I can fix it?”

Your head tilted to the side at the sultry, smooth voice just above you.

“Yeah…who-who is this?”

“I’m the mogul in our name. Rockstar is on his way.”

“Were you two not together?”

You feel the atmosphere shift as he kneels in front of you and his fingers gently hold your head as he adjusts the mask to be more comfortable.

“We were but he wanted to stop and grab some things in the lobby. How does that feel?”

“Better, thank you.”

He withdrawals his hands but he doesn’t move as you feel his eyes scanning you over. Braving crossing a boundary, your hands carefully reach out and find his cheeks. Taking a hold of your wrists, Mogul helps guide your movement over his fluffy hair making you smile at how soft it is. When your thumb finds his lips, he exhales heavily and his warm breath has your pussy clenching around nothing. 

Abruptly, the door beeps and opens again as the smell of cigarettes fills the room.

“Do you know how hard it is to find ice in this goddamn palace!?”

Your head tilts again as you try to follow the new voice as he moves about the room. 

“And that would be the rockstar.”, the man in front of you assures as he pats your thigh and sits beside you. As he goes to release your hand, you immediately reach for him again, afraid of being in the dark now that they were here.

“Next building you buy should be a fucking hotel so you can put things where us humans can find them.”

You hear what sounds like someone being lightly hit as everything becomes silent again. 

“Hey, sweetheart. Sorry. My mouth tends to move before my brain does.”, he replies in your direction at a bit of a calmer register as he bounces on to the bed beside you. “God, asshole got you good, huh? Ok, this is going to be cold.”

You yelp and wince when something freezing lands on your arm. 

“I searched for like an actual icepack but I guess the 5 stars don’t include first aid.”

“Ok! I get it. You’re not used to fancy places, dude. Jesus.”

Rockstar laughs through his teeth making you smile again as your free hand reaches towards where you assume he is. Your fingers touch hair first and your eyebrows scrunch together as you realize you found the ends just above his shoulder. 

“Yeah, I, uh, wouldn’t run my fingers through that. It’s all tangled. You may get stuck and have to stay with us forever.”, he chuckles before it trails off. 

You can feel them both watching you as your palm finds his cheek and like with his friend your thumb moves along his bottom lip. They were a bit more chapped but based on the smell you assumed that was due to the cigarettes. As your hand began to travel down his neck, you paused and pulled away not wanted to make either man uncomfortable. 

“I’m sorry.”, you mumble.

“What are you sorry for, honey?”

“I don’t mean to be…that much of a brat, you know. I like talking to you both to and I want to see where this goes but…I guess I’m like him sometimes.” You pause as you gesture towards the rockstar. “My mouth moves before my brain. I’ll understand if you don’t want to be my Daddies anymore.”

Both men were silent for what felt like an eternity before the ice was removed from your skin and replaced by lips. A pleasant sigh escaped you as he tenderly kissed your bruises.

“Why did you ex hurt you?”, Mogul asked.

“Because he’s a fucker.”

“Yeah, we gathered that.”, Rockstar teased as he leaned away from you but intertwined your fingers with his. 

“He, uh, took me on a date to this tacky little restaurant that I told him a million times I hate and then on the drive home he insinuated because he took me out I’d want to…you know.”, you exhale as your head hangs. “I’m just so tired of being lonely. I just want someone to take care of me. ME. Not the supposed ‘whore who needs to be put in her place’ or ‘the desperate big girl’. I’m strong and I can take care of myself. I’m just…tired.”

Fingers tenderly moved your hair behind on of your ears. 

“God, I love your attitude.”

“It’s not uncommon for us to constantly run into ‘yes’ people. It’s one of the problems we have with Babies. Always ‘Yes, Daddy.’ Or ‘Of course, Daddy.’ Sometimes we can’t tell if it’s them being genuine or pandering to us to get what they want. Which…I guess is fine but…”

“Not what we’re looking for.”

Your hands search for Mogul’s face and he grins as he leans in allowing you to touch him. When your lips find his, however, he hastily pulls back and rises to his feet. 

“Hey, no, honey. You don’t have to do that. That’s not why we came down here.”

You feel yourself start to panic, losing your bearings since you can’t see. You had gotten used to them both being next to you and when he stood up you suddenly felt lost. 

“I’m right here, princess. You’re ok. Everything’s ok.”, Rockstar murmurs in your ear as he squeezes your thigh.

“You don’t want to fuck me?”, you ask to the void, unsure of exactly where the other man may be. 

A deep, guttural groan echoes in front of you as you turn your head towards it.

“I’ve never wanted something or someone so bad in my life, baby, but… that’s not why we came here.”

“He doesn’t want you to feel used. Your ex tried to do that and he doesn’t want you to feel like we’re the same.”

“I don’t. I don’t feel that way at all, Daddy.” Your voice had dropped into that little girl tone as you fully allowed yourself to be vulnerable for them. “Please…”

Lips connected to yours again but the taste was different. The nicotine that lingered on his tongue mixed with the slight taste of mint toothpaste set your body on fire as it fully came to life and you wrapped your arms around the man’s neck as he gently tilted you onto your back.

The bed dipped on your other side and you disconnected from one set of lips to another. You became lost in his kisses as his tongue danced with yours and their hands roamed your skin. 

“We’re going to be gentle tonight, baby girl. Let us take care of you.”

You allowed them to undress you and waited patiently as they removed their own clothes. Lying on either side of you, they each lifted one of your legs over their hips as their lips and tongues sucked on your neck.

Rockstar’s fingers glided through your folds and you groaned loudly as he massaged circles into your clit. While running your hand through his hair, Mogul licked and sucked on one of your nipples making your hips buck as you searched for more friction. 

“Please.”

“What do you want, sweetheart? You want my fingers?”

“Yes, Daddy, please.”

His nose presses against your cheek, his mouth opening in a silent moan as he effortlessly guides two of his digits inside of your core. 

“Fuck. I was right. You are tight. Jesus, sweetheart, our cocks are going to stretch you open, baby.”

“Can…Can I have you both?”

“Can you handle that?”, Mogul asked with a slight whine of want. 

“Yeah, Daddy. I can, I promise.”

“Baby girl, I don’t think you understand what you’re asking for.”, he chuckles and you listen as he sucks on what you assume is his fingers. “You may think we’re cocky but trust us we’ve earned the right to be.”

You suck in a breath as you twist your hips and feel two long thick fingers pushed into your ass as both men thrust their digits into you. 

“Oh…my…”

“Can a little girl like you handle your Daddy’s big cocks inside of you at the same time?”

Your hands cling to the man in front of you as you passionately kiss him, his tongue catching your moans as you tremble and trench his fingers as you cum. 

“Y-Yes, I can…I can handle it.”

They abruptly sit up and manhandle you around the bed, Mogul’s arms holding you tightly as he places himself on the edge of the mattress with his legs hanging off the side. Just as you had, his palm comes up to caress your face as his thumb traces your lips. 

“You’re so beautiful, baby.” You softly smile at the sincerity in his voice while he circles your arms around his neck. “Just hang on to Daddy, ok? We got you.”

His hair tickles your nose as he tilts his head and grips his cock between your bodies. 

“Shit, um, I almost forgot. Is it ok…I don’t think we have condoms.”

“It’s ok. I’m protected and I’m clean. You can cum inside me…if you want to…”

“Fuck, sweetheart, you’re going to kill us. Ok, go ahead and baby let me know when you’re ready for me.”

“Yes, sir.”

You feel his mushroom tip tease your entrance making you both moan. 

“Take your time, honey. I got you.”

As you slowly descend onto him, he sucks in a breath as your fingers thread through his hair. 

“So big. Fuck, Daddy.”

“How does she feel, man?”

“Mmpf, tight. That’s it. You’re almost there.”

When you’re fully seated on top of him, his forehead leans to rest on yours as his humid breath fans your face. The action causes you to clench around him and he grunts in pleasure.

“Hang on to me.”, he whispers as he tips back onto his hands tilting you with him. 

Rockstar spits in his palm behind you and you mewl as he rubs it between your cheeks.

“Are you ready, princess?”

“Yes, Daddy, I’m ready.”

Holding your ass open, he gradually slides into you.

“Oh fuck. I wasn’t expecting… goddamn baby girl.”

Ringed fingers take hold of your bicep as both men thrust into you at the same time hitting every spot inside of you that has you melting into them. 

“Oh my God. Yes!”

“Yeah, baby? Fuck, dude. I don’t know how—mmm—how long I’m gonna last. Her ass feels so good.” A hand slaps your behind making you moan as another strong palm grips the back of your thigh guiding your movements as you bounce back into theirs. 

Lips in front of you open mouth kiss your chest up to your neck as you push them closer to your skin. 

“Please. Fuck, Daddy! M’gonna cum.”

Slamming their hips up to meet yours, your body quivers as the coil snaps.

“Atta girl, honey! Making a mess all over our cocks and coming hard like that. So fucking sexy.”

Clinging to them tightly, you allowed them to use you to chase their highs. The man behind you warms your insides first, grunting as his rhythm falters. The man in front of you soon follows thrusting his spend deep inside of you.

“We’re going to pull out, sweetheart, ok?”

“Ok, Daddy.”

After carefully removing themselves, you feel yourself being lifted into the air and spun around before being placed on soft pillows. A wet rag cleans you and you pleasantly sigh as you curl under the covers that were placed over your body. 

“Are you both going to stay?”

Cool metal touches your skin as a hand pets your head. 

“Do you want us to?”

“I promise I won’t look.”

Warmth encases you as they lay on either side, murmuring praises as you steadily fall asleep. 

#################

When you woke up the next morning you were alone, finding a note on the nightstand that said they thought it best to leave before you woke up but that the room was yours for as long as you need and to message them when you made it home. 

You did what they requested but decided to utilize the rest of your Sunday for yourself thinking about everything that happened. You heard your phone pinging but you didn’t want to talk to anyone wishing you could call in that following Monday. Unfortunately, you made a promise to a friend, you couldn’t break. 

“Y/N, honey, are you alright?”, your colleague asks as she lightly elbows your side. 

“I’m fine. Just an interesting weekend.”

“Alright, guys so this where all the important decisions are made.”, the building tour guide obnoxiously smiled as she guided the class around the office space. “Let’s see if the boss is available.”

“Well thank you for chaperoning with me. When Mrs. Ludwig cancelled I thought I would have to reschedule.”

“No problem. I know nothing about business and economics but…”, you giggle. 

“Holy shit!”

“Mark!”, your friend shouts. “Watch your mouth! Jesus!”

“Mrs. Raymond, it’s Eddie Munson. The guitarist from Corroded Coffin!”

Turning your head in that direction, you realize two men are staring your way, one of them indeed the famous rockstar. 

Rockstar…

Blinking you tilt your head as you notice the rings on his fingers.

That voice. I knew that voice.

“It’s not uncommon for us to see Mr. Munson around here. Him and Mr. Harrington have been friends for a long time. Right, sir?”, the tour guide asks.

“Steve Harrington? The business mogul?”

Mogul…

“See, Y/N. You know some things about the business world.”, your friend grins. 

As the world around you seems to slow down to a halt, you three continue to stare at each other as you figure out where to go from here.

[oneforthemunny]

light my morning sky |rockstar!eddie munson x nepo baby!reader|

prompt: three wedding ceremonies, and it's stop number two in vegas. a night with your friends, celebrating you the way both of you love, and it leads to a rather intense wedding night for the two of you in sin city.

contains: minors dni. smut. fluff but mainly smut. drugs and alcohol, overall just partying in vegas. getting married in vegas. dom!eddie x sub!reader. bratty overtones to sub!reader. more of a soft!dom with rockstar!eddie bc he's in loooveeeee. spanking with implement (paddle/crop). thigh riding kinda. crawling. pinvsex. language. nothing too harsh or mean bc it's their (second) wedding night lol.

"I now pronounce you married." Elvis, or one of his many replicas on the strip, rasped in his low, exaggerated drawl mimicking the beloved singer. His hair perfectly coiffed, sideburns trimmed, and dressed in a black jumpsuit with wings, red and gold sequins trim.

Flamboyant, over the top- it was Eddie's dream.

Eddie grinned at you, his hands in yours, thumb brushing over the large stone on your left hand. He looked like The King himself in his white tasseled suit, pointed collar, and blue beading down the deep V of his shirt- an identical suit made to look exactly like Elvis' infamous jumpsuit from his time in Las Vegas in the 70's. It had been a prop in some show your father was producing, one that you and Eddie borrowed after the wedding.

"Eddie, you may now kiss your little darlin' here." The officiant grinned, stepping back towards the faux-rose garland, strung with bright lights.

Your heart swelled in your chest, just as light and giddy as the first ceremony, letting Eddie cup your face, pulling you in to seal with a kiss, far more passionate and needy than the ceremony in California.

Cheers erupted from the small crowd of friends you'd rallied for the big day- well, the second big day. Their booze soaked giggles and screeches mashed to the tune of Can't Help Falling In Love pouring out of the static filled old speakers. Flashes blinded your vision, even behind your closed eyes, camera clicks and bright snaps of camera light capturing every moment.

For a moment, you tensed, aware of your rounded shoulders, of Eddie's hand grabbing at your ass, eyes opening and cutting towards the aisle. Jonathan stood there, face hidden by the camera. Eddie had insisted his friend from Hawkins come instead, replace the snooty photographer that had done the ceremony before. Your parents had raved about him, but Eddie didn't see what the big deal was with him. He just made you both look so stiff, so unnatural in your portraits.

Eddie's hand slid up the silk material of your tiny dress, gripped onto your hip, bunching the material. You could feel his wedding band in the small of your back when he pressed his hand there, steadying you before he tipped you back. A deep dip of a kiss, your thigh hiked around his hip.

The small bouquet of white roses you'd bought at the front of the chapel fell onto the patterned carpet, your friends' screeching and whooping laughs ignited by the dramatics. They expected nothing less from Eddie- from both of you.

"Lord have mercy," The officiant laughed, fanning himself dramatically, long metallic sleeves rippling. "These two have lots of hunk-a, hunk-a burnin' love, don't they folks?"

Eddie could feel your lips twitch against his, a snort of a giggle, hot air blowing against his lip. His dopey and dimpled grin met you when you finally pulled apart. It left you weak, blistering in his intense, love filled gaze.

A pop of Perignon filled the room, Gareth and Farrah bumbling closer with two glasses, trying to stop the excess spilling over. A celebratory toast to the two of you, to keep your buzz going after the break in the bender you took for the ceremony.

Since you'd landed on Thursday night, the party hadn't stopped. Liquor flowing, loud music, sloppily piling into a stall with your own friends, taking bumps off your room keys before stumbling back to the club in your designer shoes, ready to keep the party going.

The afterparty was no different. Tucked away in a private villa at Ceasar's, you didn't make it to the club. Eddie had insisted he had to go first, nearly pushing Jeff over to get to the door, scooping you up in his arms and walking you through the door.

"Watch your fuckin' head, baby- don't lean back." You could smell the alcohol on his breath, a pungent mixture of too many to name, mixed with the faintest whiff of smoke from his cigarettes.

It didn't take long for Nick to find the boom box, blaring his party mixtape at a wall shaking volume, everyone scattering. Some to the kitchen to scour through the piles of empty bottles for a full one, others to collapse into the couch and let someone line up a pick me up before plunging in the hot tub outside.

"You," Eddie slurred, his head dipping down to press against your forehead. "Look so fuckin' beautiful." Nose brushing against yours, red from his own party favors.

You giggled nasally, blinking blearily eyed to focus on him to close to you. The effects of the tequila and champagne and hodge podge of liquor you'd mixed and consumed catching up with you.

"You know what, baby? You look really good, Mr. Munson." You whispered, hand cupping his jaw. "Like- hic!- too good to be fucking true."

"You're sweet talkin' me? Huh? Bein' s'nice to me?" Eddie grinned, fingers sinking into your hips.

"Yeah." You hummed.

"Tryna get my pants off or somethin', huh, baby? G-Get in my pants by bein' so sweet? You think that's gonna work?" Eddie teased, tilting his head to the side.

"Yeahhh..." You nodded, staggering against him, manicured nails raking down his bare chest. "We have to- to consummate the marriage, Ed."

"What?" Eddie furrowed his brows. "We gotta do what? Wait- I thought you wanted to fuck."

You laughed, head tilting back letting out that mean little cackle that always got Eddie worked up- a little mocking, mostly genuine. It left him flushed in heat, crawling up his chest and splattering over his cheeks.

"You dumbass, that is what that means." You rolled your eyes at him.

Eddie's eyes narrowed with you, catching your chin easily. "Oh? That's how you wanna play tonight, hm?" He shook his head, your body erupting in a fiery heat. "You're not gonna be nice to me?"

"I'm always nice to you." You countered, hand closing around his wrist gently, steadying yourself. "You're the one who's mean."

"Yeah?" Eddie grinned, eyes shining, glimmering in the low light of the room, the music from the other side thudding in a low roar, still shaking the walls. "You want me to be mean to you tonight? That's how you wanna do this?"

"Yeah." You sighed, a devious little grin that had Eddie's heart swelling, body buzzing with bouts of electricity. A shock to his system that brought him into something animalistic and primal and thrilling. Something new he only felt with you.

"I was hopin' you'd want to. Figured you would. Went ahead and got you a little somethin'." Eddie hummed, pulling you close into him. His breath hot on your cheek, booze soaked and warm on your skin.

"A gift?" Your eyes lit up, bright and devious all at once. Positively troublesome.

"Yeah. A gift. Just for you, baby." Eddie's lip dragged over your cheek, nose, hands sliding up your neck into your hair. "A wedding gift, but-but not for the wedding. For the after."

"Mm," You moaned lightly, his lips brushing with yours, teasing. Just enough to make you want to kiss him fully, leave you waiting and wanting more. "It's after now, Ed." You batted your lashes up at him.

"Is it?" Eddie muttered, fingers curling around your hair the back of your head.

"Yeah." You whispered, voice raspy from the liquor. "Time to give me my gift."

"Ooh, you're gonna be demanding?" Eddie pulled back from you, holding you at arms length so he could see you. Your pout, glassy eyes rounding instinctively- a classic look, teetering on demanding and begging, a signature look for you.

"'M not being demanding." You huffed, hands sliding over his arms. He could feel the diamonds of your wedding band scratch lightly over his skin. "You said you had a gift for me."

Eddie bit back a smirk, squeezing your shoulders with firm, gentle affection. You grinned triumphantly when he stumbled to his closet, puling a red gift bag tied together with a gold bow.

He smirked at your squeal of delight, hands clapping together excitedly when he gave you the bag. "What is it?" You beamed, a peal of excited, drunken giggles spilling from your chest.

"Open it." Eddie clicked, shaking his head at you. "What's in it- open the damn thing, baby. It's a present. 'M not tellin' you w-what I got you." His words slurred, still silly and playful.

You laughed, head spinning and intoxicatingly airy with glee, unraveling the gold spun ribbon with a dramatic tug of your hand. Underneath the piles of tissue paper, a long box lied at the bottom.

There, inside the felt lined box, a small heart shaped paddled. Black and leather, with a black, metal handle. It was small, smaller than most of Eddie's chosen paddles. The heart shape at the end firmer than the crop, not as flimsy as you expected.

"Look," Eddie pointed, swaying gently in front of you. He turned the handle clumsily around his hands before he turned it to you. There in etched gold, your names and the date carved into the metal handle.

"Ed." You cooed, head tilting back to meet his gaze. "You got this f'me?"

"Well, kinda." Eddie nodded. "I mean, for me to use on you, but yeah. Wanted something to-to remember this by."

Lips pulling in a smile, you stood, arms wrapping around his waist, pulling him flush to your own chest. "You're so sweet." You hum, swaying with him softly. "So sweet to me."

Eddie's cheeks flushed, matching the drunken red heat painted on his neck. "Yeah." He hummed, hands sliding over your cheeks, smearing your already rubbed off foundation, tilting your head back towards him.

"'M not gonna be sweet to you f'long." He muttered, lip twitching in a curling grin. Staticky prickles of excitement licked at your neck, shimmering all the way down to your core. Eddie's tongue ran over his teeth, brow raising. "That alright with you, baby?"

"Yes." You whispered, nails digging into his hands lightly, steadying yourself.

Eddie caught your chin, pulling your gaze towards him. "Who?" His tone dropped, low and raspy but punctuated.

The nervous, maybe excited, giggle spilled out of your lips before you could stop it. Eyes shining, swaying with excitement, you batted your lashes towards him. "Yes, Sir." You purred, hands sliding, nails raking down his forearms.

Eddie grinned, ducking down to catch your lips in a hungry kiss. Hand pressed to the small of your spine, you could taste the liquor on his tongue as it slid past your teeth. A sloppy, needy, alcohol fueled make out. Hands grabbing, pulling at the other, pushing your bodies closer and closer together until it felt like they might fuse together, mold into one. Hands sliding, bunching the material of your dress up your hips.

"Wait!" Your eyes flew open, pulling apart with an urgency that had Eddie jumping.

"What? What's wrong?" Eddie's brows furrowed, vision fading blearily in and out of focus.

"I forgot," You turned towards your suitcase. "I bought something special for tonight. S-Somethin' to put on." You muttered, swaying drunkenly, hands on his waist to steady yourself.

"Baby, it's alright. Just save it for tomorrow-"

"-No." Your tone was cutting, huffy with a hint of demanding- bratty. You did it best, Eddie supposed, his cock twitching at the sound.

He wanted to grab the paddle, haul you over his knee right then, feel you scratch and scream at him like old times. Instead, he let you stomp off, bunching a flash of white material to your chest, stumbling towards the bathroom.

It was worth it, Eddie decided. Legs spread on the edge of the bed, knee bouncing with anticipation until the doors opened.

"Are you ready?" He could hear your grin, hidden by the door.

"Yeah. Show me, baby. Come on out." Eddie's lips tugged in a half grin.

The door opened painfully slow, your own teasing reveal, until you stood before him in a tiny, white, see through lacy lingerie set. A classic, more scandalous and revealing than before. Bra and panties so revealing it left little to the imagination, hip hugging garter that connected to two leg holders, both with their own loops. Eddie pictured for a moment tying you up by them, stringing the rope through them, tying your legs wide open and spending the rest of the night- hell, the whole week in between them.

Maybe tomorrow night. Tonight, he had other plans.

Eddie's loud wolf whistle mixed with your bubbling giggles. "Holy shit, baby, look at you. No, look at me, but I wanna look at you." Eddie rasped, hands sliding over your exposed skin, rubbing the lace of your garter, pulling the tiny strap of your panties so it snapped to your skin.

"You like it?" You whispered, watching his eyes carefully. You knew he did. He always did.

"You kidding? Love it." Eddie grinned. "Worth the wait, beautiful."

Your cheeks burned with a rush of euphoric excitement, hands sliding up his shoulder, your ring sparkling even under the dim lights of the room.

"Ok, I'm ready now." You said boldly, lashes batting up to Eddie sweetly. "I just wanted to put this on for you."

"Oh? You're ready?" Eddie snorted lightly, lips curling in a smirk. "You callin' the shots?"

You huffed, an eye roll that had Eddie swallowing hard, trying to ignore the throbbing of his cock. "No," Your tongue clicked sarcastically. "Obviously you're in charge for right now."

"Oh, it's like that?" Eddie scoffed. "You're gonna act like that?"

"I'm not acting like anything, Ed." You bit your lip playfully. "I don't know what you're talking about." Oh, you were playful tonight. Eddie's heart swelled, palms twitching with excitement.

"Hm," Eddie hummed, tongue running down the inside of his cheek.

"Why don't you go get your gift." Eddie nodded towards the discarded paddle at the other end of the bed. You stepped towards it. "Nuh-uh-uh." Eddie clicked, head shaking.

"You know how you're supposed to get things for me." His eyes darkened, narrowing towards you.

Your thighs twitched, aching between them with a familiar heat. "Ed," Whiny and nasally, shoulders slumping for effect.

"You're gonna whine? C'mon, I know you know better." Eddie shook his head. "I don't wanna be mean to you tonight. Not too mean, anyways. Don't make me be mean. Go get your gift and bring it here, you know what to do. You be good for me, and I'll be good to you."

It didn't take much convincing, not when your head was spinning the way it was, desperate to please him. You knew he was true to his word, that he'd make you feel so good, which was exactly why you sunk to your knees. Crawling across the carpeted floors, you crept slowly towards the paddle.

Eddie watched through heavy lids, the sway of your hips, tiny panties riding up into your ass with every crawl. Your eyes met his when you raised up, gently grabbing the paddle off the bed. Eddie's heart lurched with excitement when you slipped it between your teeth, sinking back to your knees.

"Holy shit... Baby," Eddie groaned, leg shaking furiously when you rounded the corner of the bed, crawling straight for him. "Look at you. Jesus Christ, you know what you're doin'?"

You sunk back on your knees, settling between Eddie's open legs, eyes rounded so sweetly up at him it answered his question- you knew exactly what you were doing to him.

"'M just trying to be good." You whispered sweetly, head tilting to the side when he took to the paddle from you. "I just want to be so good for you always and forever, Mr. Munson."

Eddie thought he might snap the paddle in half, grip strangling in a tight hold around the pole. For a second, he contemplated again diving right between your legs, kinky foreplay be damned. Instead, he pulled you over his knee, let you straddle his thigh, covered cunt hot on his knee.

"Look at me." Eddie rasped, pulling your chin up, letting it rest on his chest, your body folded over his. "I wanna look at you. Wanna see you the whole time."

You pressed your lips together, swallowing back a pathetic whine. One hand cradling the back of your head, the other dragging the paddle along your exposed cheeks.

"You wanna be good for me?" Eddie whispered. You didn't reply, didn't get the chance to before the paddle snapped onto your ass. A jump, a whine, followed by Eddie's coaxing whisper back onto his knee.

"I asked you somethin', sweetheart." Eddie muttered, the crop tapping your other cheek. "You wanna be good for me?" Two sharp hits one to each cheek had you hissing.

"Yes." You hissed through gritted teeth, stilling your hips not to grind on him, hump his leg mercilessly. You knew that'd just fuel his cruel teasing even more.

"Yeah?" You yelped at the sharp sting.

"Yes, I wanna be good for you." Your spine ached at the uncomfortable bend in position, still you didn't dare move. It was true, you did want to be good for him.

"Are you going to be good for me?" Eddie whispered, nose nearly touching yours.

You bit back a giggle, stopped by three more sharp spanks of the crop to your ass, already itchy with growing agitation. "Yeah." Your eyes shone up at Eddie's, a silly, love sick grin that had him swooning.

"Yeah?" Eddie mocked back with a light snort. It was growing harder to keep the mean, domineering persona he tried to. When you were being this sweet, when you were being so good for him.

The crop fell again, this time your hips did roll. Just enough to dull the ache between your legs, a momentary release that had you melting further into his chest.

Eddie didn't miss it, pulling you closer to him, readjusting you on his thigh. "I don't know if I believe you." Eddie hummed, cracking the crop down again in short, sharp successions. "Are you really gonna be good to me? For the rest of time?"

You whimpered, hips rocking slowly, a steady rhythm that nearly had your eyes rolling back. The burning stretch of your ass mixed with the slow, pleasure-filled rolls of your hips.

"I will, I promise." You hummed in a high, breathy tone. "I swear I will be. I'll be a good wife for you. Forever and ever and ever."

Eddie's heart nearly burst at the words. How sweet they still sounded, even if you had technically been his wife for a few weeks now.

He let the paddle fall, his hands grabbing at your waist, pulling you into his lap. Lips on yours, your legs wrapping around his hips before he rolled the two of you, body slotting over yours, drunken giggles filling the air.

Hand intertwining with the other, Eddie's eyes rolled back at the feeling of your ring scraping over his when he finally slid into you. Mrs. Munson, forever. Forever his, just as he was forever yours.

Eddie had you pressed against the window of the suite, hips rutting into the fat of your ass, marked with the etching heart shape of the paddle. Overlooking the city's skyline, the sun was just beginning to peak over the horizon. Your cheek pressed to the window, Eddie's pressed to yours, skin smushed to skin, the two of you weren't close to being done. Just getting started, started on forever, started on a life together.

For now, in a hotel room in Vegas, insatiably happy and in love with one another. Mr. and Mrs. Munson, for the second time.

[madelynraemunson]

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

☆ The Crawl ☆

rockstar!eddie munson x housewife!afab!reader

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

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

WC: 686 words

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

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

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

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

And now 385 days later, you two are here.

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

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

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

“Oh but I can.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I need to write a song.”

[ghost-proofbaby]

SO SCARLET (IT WAS MAROON)

CHAPTER TEN: RIGHT WHERE YOU LEFT ME

DID YOU EVER HEAR ABOUT THE GIRL WHO GOT FROZEN? TIME WENT ON FOR EVERYBODY ELSE - SHE WON'T KNOW IT.

☆ pairings: rockstar!eddie munson x fem!reader

☆ warnings: no use of y/n, strong language, angst, minors dni

☆ WC: 5.9K+

☆ A/N: lyrics used towards end of the chapter belong to the following sleep token songs (in order of appearance) - chokehold, ascensionism, and take me back to eden. 10/10 recommends listening to them <3

thank you to my love @hellfire--cult for the divider!

masterlist

When you wake up, you’re shocked to find cold sheets beside you. 

Your hand stretches out on instinct, joints cracking as you barely slip into consciousness, and it’s the one thing capable of jolting you awake. These aren’t your sheets (they’re too nice to be your sheets), this isn’t your bed (there’s a cologne across the fabric that no longer stains your own mattress), and the bed is cold. Not even whispering of the warmth of who should be in bed with you, no trace of him having been tangled up with you the entire night to be found. 

Eddie had been here. You know he had been here. Last night couldn’t have possibly been a dream, or a hallucination, or some cruel twisting of reality done by your brain out of the terrible yearning that is bubbling back up to the surface of your chest. 

He had been here. And now, he’s gone. 

It reminds you too much of those mornings you’d awake while he was on tour. The mornings you’d roll over in a shared bed, only to find the other owner was still a country away. Mornings where you took your coffee cold and alone, and took your updates from some online source posting blurry photographs of the man you were waiting up on rather than from his own two lips. 

Bile almost rises in your throat until you properly sit up, and you properly remember. 

Eddie. Kisses. His guitar. His song. Whispered falsetto of taking aim, painful words about the way love is a weapon. 

You weren’t stupid. You weren’t dense. And Eddie Munson was a rockstar, not an actor. 

The room is still dreary, faintly lit with the wisps of daylight peering through the curtains over the window. You can’t tell if it’s stormy out, or it’s early out, but neither really matters. Neither really explains why you’ve woken up in a bed alone, after a night of playing pretend. 

Eddie’s lips, trailing down your skin. Eddie’s hands, bruising your hips and holding you to him in all the ways you begged him to. Eddie’s legs, entangling with yours beneath sheets he used to not be able to afford and blankets that kept the rest of the world as far away from the two of you as possible through the night. 

You swear, for just a moment, your back is still warm with the imprint of his chest curling against you. 

With every movement you make, you wait for Eddie to magically appear out of thin air. To jump up in front of you, to smile at you with that toothy grin and greet you with some ridiculous good morning. You keep waiting as you kick off the covers, and as your feet meet his cold floors, and as you make your way to the unfamiliar bathroom attached to the bedroom. 

Waiting, waiting, waiting. 

You sort of fucking hate waiting. Especially when it came to Eddie.

There’s no sign of him in the apartment. It becomes clear once you’ve brushed your teeth, almost hesitating to use the toothbrush available until you realize how ridiculous that would be. He had his tongue down your throat last night, amongst other places – he could bare for you to borrow his toothbrush just this once. You make your way out of the room, down the hallway, to the kitchen. 

Nothing. No Eddie. No breakfast. No reminders to call Matt and no ambulances on speed dial. 

You feel like a fool. 

“Talk about karma, hm?” you mumble to yourself as you lean against his kitchen island, staring at the fridge, weighing your choices. 

You could stay, make yourself breakfast, enjoy the luxuries at your disposal. 

Or you could leave. You could get out now while he’s not here to stop you, erase the night from your skin and memory. There’s still time to pretend that none of it ever happened. There’s still time to scrub the stain he’s once again left across not just your skin, not just your mind, but your entire existence. A newly reopened wound, and you still had time to make amends and stitch it right back up. No blood stains necessary this time around. And things were always easier the second time around, right? 

Wrong. 

Something keeps you rooted in spot. Maybe it’s the nostalgia, wrapping its way up around your bones. Maybe it's the wishful thinking, the smallest of hopes that Eddie will eventually burst through the front door and wash away the doubts. 

Or maybe it’s the post-it note that you’d initially missed, barely clinging to the surface of the fridge as it leaves behind a sticky residue. 

Went to the studio, I’m in trouble with Matt :( Help yourself to anything in the apartment. If you leave, just make sure to lock up behind you. I’ll text once I’m done. 

It’s written in messy penmanship, the font of someone in a rush. The phrase ‘if you leave’ is only slightly neater, as if written slowly and given more thought than anything else said. 

As if Eddie might have hesitated, for just a moment, at the thought of you leaving once more. 

You’re probably imagining things. You’re probably making up that difference in your mind, projecting onto what you want him to feel so desperately. It shouldn’t make a difference in if you stay or if you go. It shouldn’t. 

And yet, it does. 

The hours pass by slowly. Morning bleeds into the afternoon as you keep yourself entertained and take Eddie’s encouragement in full stride; you make yourself a decent enough breakfast from what food he does have in the fridge, and you almost make a note of scolding him for having little to nothing in there. But then you remember that it isn’t your place anymore, and your toast is nearly burning, and so the mental note of any slaps on the wrist is pushed away. You wander about the living room, taking in what photos he does have displayed. There’s not much – a few awards, some nice recounts of the band’s successes, but nothing that is Eddie. No photos of Hawkins. No photos of friends. No photos of Wayne. You hadn’t realized just how empty, how vacant, the place had felt until you properly inspected it all. 

There’s only one trace left behind of Eddie. The man you once knew and loved, not Eddie the Rockstar. Eddie, the caring best friend. Eddie, the doting boyfriend. Eddie, the one you’d once spent all your days weaving a future with, threads intertwined and dreams perfectly aligned. 

A single photograph of just him and Gareth. Or at least, what’s been framed to appear to be of just him and Gareth. 

Eddie, front and center. Gareth to his left. At a quick glance, it seems like one more homage to the band, maybe even to his friends. 

It’s more than that, though.

Your hands can’t work fast enough as they grab the frame, not even thinking clearly about how Eddie might feel if you rip the back off the nice piece of memoriam. Your heart is racing out your chest, breaths starting to come out in harsher and harsher puffs as you struggle to flip the clips and remove the backing cardboard. 

You find exactly what you knew you’d find. Exactly what you’d dreaded you’d find. 

Yourself, staring back at you. 

Creased over so purposefully, the section of the photo containing you has been prestigiously folded to appear as though you’d never existed. You, with a fool’s grin and eyes squinted out of appearance. You, hand on Eddie’s shoulder as you’d lifted yourself up dramatically on your tippy toes, body full of pride beyond the point of containment. 

A version of you that you can remember crystal clearly. 

“Wait, wait!” you had squealed, the stick of beer on concrete floors meeting the rubber sole of your shoes audible as you’d ran across the bar, “Don’t you dare take that photo without me, assholes!” 

You’d nearly slipped in a puddle of only God-knows-what as you’d made it to where the boys were gathering, but Eddie’s hands had already been there to catch you before you’d met an untimely demise. 

“Woah, woah, woah,” his face twitched with concern, but his smile wasn’t fading, “Trying to kill yourself there, Sugar?” 

“No, I’m trying to get into the photo with my favorite people,” you’d corrected, looking around Eddie to shoot a smile Gareth’s way, “Gotta make sure they don’t forget me in the history books in ten years, when they put you guys’ into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame.” 

Gareth snorted immediately, shaking his head, his own head of curls bouncing with the movement, “Right. I’ll believe it when I see it.” 

Eddie’s hands left your waist, leaving you to bounce on the balls of your feet as you looked back to Jeff still poised with a camera. “Don’t be such a pessimist, Gar.” 

“Don’t call me Gar.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Should I use the full nickname? Would you prefer Gare-Bea-”

“Okay,” Eddie cut you off with impeccable timing, putting his hands out between the two of you, “Can we not kill each other after we’ve just played our biggest show yet?” 

Biggest show yet, indeed. Everyone had come out to show love to the boys you’d been rooting on from the hot floors of garages for several months at that point. More than just a few drunks being forced to listen to the live band playing at their favorite joint, and more than just a few friends who’d spared their evening to show support. 

Everyone was there. The bar had even made an exception for a few of the boys in Eddie’s Hellfire club, and that alone had already gone to Dustin Henderson and Mike Wheeler’s heads. 

“She’s right!” Dustin added without any prompting, standing to the side and looking just as giddy as you did, “You guys are gonna be goddamn rockstars!” 

“Language, Henderson!” Steve Harrington scolded, scowling at the younger boy, “Jesus, we let you guys come to a bar one time to support Eddie, and you immediately start acting up-”

“Can we please just take the photo?” Jeff waved the camera as he looked between you, Eddie, and Gareth, “Please?” 

Surprisingly, every single person listened. 

Gareth resumed his cool-guy position, clearly trying to not show just how excited he was. Arms crossed as he didn’t move any closer to be more fully in the photo, offering the limited effort of leaning in. 

You knew he was just playing it cool. You’d seen the smile light up his face, even behind the drumset, the moment the boys had seen how large of a crowd they’d garnered. 

Dustin jumping up and down beside you, waving his hand, trying to just get a glimpse of his blurry palm in the shot. 

No one could even be mad at him, the air was too thick with excitement. He was only exerting it the way all of you craved to do so badly, guided by his youth and genuine love for his friends – his mentors. 

And then there was you and Eddie. Eddie wasn’t hiding his joy at all, those dimples you so adored in full throttle as he looked at the camera with starry eyes. All that hard work, all those late nights, finally beginning to come to fruition. He didn’t have to say it – you knew. You knew he was beginning to see the shape of a rockstar forming that you’d always been able to view. Seeing himself in the spotlight that you’d always shone on him, blind faith and all. 

He was proud, and you were prouder. 

On your tippy toes, hand curling around Eddie’s shoulder like an anchor as your chin tilted up and your teeth flashed to the camera. You probably looked ridiculous – you felt ridiculous. But there was no time for some elegant pose or faux cool act like Gareth or Jeff. You were bleeding out all your pride and all your happiness, and it was all for the warm body beneath your palm. The boy you’d be holding dearly when it was all said and done at the end of the night, letting him collapse into your solace as he giggled and muttered his disbelief at how well the night went once you were both safely back in his bed. 

“Say cheese!”

Jeff was all but ignored, only Gareth loudly proclaiming the word through gritted teeth. 

You squeezed Eddie’s shoulder a bit tighter, and he smiled a bit wider as you whispered, “I’m so proud of you, Rockstar.”  

You didn’t realize you were crying until the first tear drops onto the photo, narrowly missing your overly exuberant face and landing instead on the back of the part of the photo unseen from this point of view.

The part that was on display. The part that Eddie would let the world see. 

The tears can’t become more; you can’t let them. You weren’t going to break down in sobs in the middle of Eddie’s apartment. Not after the night before, not after what felt like the precipice of progress. Not after the beginning of what felt like a peace offering. 

Closure. You were both so close to closure, and yet had never felt further. 

Instead of putting back the backing of the frame like you should, you pull out the entire photograph, slowly unsticking it from the glass so you can unfold it to witness the entire picture. You thought it might feel wrong to see this version of you standing beside that version of Eddie, but it doesn’t. If anything, it makes the burn of nostalgia worse. 

The night before, Eddie had asked you a question. 

“Do you know how many times I played this moment back over in my head?”

And you didn’t know. You never found out, never bothered to ask him for the answer. But you couldn’t but wonder if he knew how many times you’d played moments like the one in this photograph back, over and over in your mind, until it drove you to madness. Just how many late nights in that lonesome apartment, haunted by the memories, it had finally taken before you’d had no choice but to move. How many breakdowns had been spurred on in public when you’d heard his song playing in a gas station, or you’d seen a magazine that he’d occupied the smallest corner of the cover of. 

How many times, during those moments, you’d thought back to nights like the one in this picture, and wished you could go back. 

Even now, even with progress on the horizon, you want to go back. Everything in you screams for this time rather than the present. You want small crowds in the Hideout and an overly hyper Dustin Henderson to annoy you all. You want Eddie kissing you in the bar’s bathrooms, everything reeking of stale beer, and you want the only interruption to be the others banging on the door to let you know it was time to go, not Eddie’s cell phone ringing with a call from his agent. 

You want, and you want, and you want. 

For an innocence neither of you can return to. For a life both of you left behind in ashes. For a love that had seemed so infinite, not as though it might be a momentary time bomb waiting to blow. 

You want to take past you by the shoulders, and shake her so hard that there’s a chance she’ll listen to you when you demand she just enjoy it.

Enjoy all the late nights spent in diner booths with all the boys, none of them witness to the pathway of a heart that Eddie’s thumb is drawing on top of your hand. Enjoy all the grand firsts, and enjoy how everything feels like the ends and beginnings of your world when you’re that young. Enjoy Eddie while you can, even when he annoys you, even when he finds a way to get perfectly on your very last nerve. Enjoy it. 

Because one day, it would all be gone, and you’d be crying over a photograph in the apartment of the man you once thought you were going to marry. 

Now is the time to stop. Now is the time to put the photo back, gather your things, then leave. Put away the shovel and walk away from the grave of the past. 

You can’t do it. 

It turns into some wild scavenger hunt, lacking in guidelines and etiquette as you search through the rest of the apartment. Not truly snooping, but certainly scouring every corner for any other possible remnants of you. Small markings, brutal stains. Proof you weren’t the only one left maimed at the end of the day. Proof you weren’t the only one stained. 

Nothing else is found, because nothing else in the apartment is seemingly as personal as that one photograph. 

You’d noticed the apartment was barren, but hadn’t taken the time to see just how far the emptiness went. His living room, his kitchen, his bedroom – not a single sign of the Eddie you once knew. Only the new Eddie. The Eddie with awards, with a reputation, with adoring fans. 

The Eddie that you couldn’t tell if you really cared for all that much.

The first sign of life only creeps into your vision when you crack back open that door to his makeshift studio. Guitars he once only spoke of owning, a keyboard that tells you he’d finally taught himself how to play piano rather than only speaking about it as a one-day, notebooks and loose-leaf pages scattered across the coffee table that’s situated in front of the comfortable couch. 

It reminds you of the coffee table back in the Munson trailer. Of his desk, back in Hawkins. 

There’s no sporadic Hellfire campaigns across the pages, though. No small doodles in the corners of the crumbled pages. 

Your curiosity gets the better of you as you take the same seat you’d occupied the night before (or technically, the earlier morning). No guitar fills your lap – only the weight of the first notebook you could get your hands on. He’d told you to help yourself to anything in the apartment, and he’d never said that the studio was explicitly off-limits. 

There’s rings of coffee stains across the front of the notebook, half the pages visibly used from the side while the rest stay pristine and uniform. Before you can overthink it, you’re flipping the cover of the spiral notebook open, holding your breath as you read across the first line of penned words that you find. 

When we were made, it was no accident. 

Lyrics. They’re clearly lyrics. You keep reading, out of order as your eager eyes drink it all in. 

I’d turn my walls to gold to bring you home again.

You turn the page. You refuse to linger. You refuse to over analyze. 

MAKE IT REAL. ‘Cause anything’s better than the way I feel right now. 

The first three words are angry, aggressive, large. Screaming off of the page. And the remaining ones are small, almost cursive as they flow together like a whisper. Like the writer couldn’t handle telling the world something so vulnerable, so loudly as he had his demand.

Below, a phrase takes up an unexpected amount of space, circled around several times, a few stray question marks penned around the edges.

Diamonds in the trees, pentagrams in the night sky.

You recall all of Eddie’s doubt when you’d interrupted him writing a song last night. The muttering to himself, questioning what the words might even mean. It seems that was not an occurrence saved solely for you – it seems, when he’s been left to his own devices, the process always remains. 

You turn the page again. 

This time, you’re met with the largest conglomerates of lyrics yet. Spreading across the available lines preset for him, but also spiraling about the page. Written in the margins, forced to fill the gaps between the lines. There’s a sinking feeling in your gut before you even read the lyrics, based on the title alone – Take Me Back to Eden. 

I dream in phosphoresces, bleed through spaces. See you drifting past the fog.

You’re holding your breath again. 

I’m a winged insect, you’re a funeral pyre. 

Your eyes wander further down the page. 

I need you to see me for what I have become.

The word become is angrily underlined, over and over, until the pen had torn through the page in the slightest. 

Something rises up within you, and in a panic, you jump to the bottom of the page. 

I guess it goes to show, does it not? That we’ve no idea what we’ve got until we lose it. 

The first fatal blow – you can practically hear Eddie’s voice singing the line to you. 

And no amount of love will keep it around, if we don’t choose it. 

Another blow. Flashes of simpler times. Times when Eddie was yours, when the world didn’t lay claim to him the same way your own shaking palms would. 

No amount of self-sought fury will bring back the glory of innocence. 

It doesn’t matter how small he’s written it. No matter how tiny and insignificant he attempted to make the line, it cuts deeper than any knives that have ever passed through your flesh before. Deeper than the knife of losing him, so terribly slow. Deeper than the knife of hearing Corroded Coffin in public for the first time, playing out of someone’s car on the street as they listened to the Alternative Rock station. Deeper than the knife of burying his mother’s ring at the back of your closet, no longer yours to wear but somehow still yours to keep. Deeper than the knife of seeing him sitting there, in your office, completely unaware for the first time in two years. 

You slam the notebook shut before you can end up bleeding all over the pages, tears gathering once more and wounds all ripped back open mercilessly. 

The glory of innocence. 

All the reels of memories that had hit you as you’d held the photo in the living room come barreling back, striking you down, hitting you exactly where it hurts. 

Because he had felt it too. He had experienced it too. 

The nostalgia, the want for the past, the need to go back in time when things were simple – innocent. When the stakes were low and love was more than just a ghost wandering through your graveyard in passing. 

Self-sought fury. 

All the headlines, all the self-destruction. Every news article that had chipped away at the great Rockstar’s reputation. It hadn’t been the Eddie you’d known, just as you’d immediately thought; it was a new version of him, a new shell of him, seeking out damage wherever his furious hands could grasp it. 

But you’d never self-imploded. You’d never gotten your fury out, never got to kiss strangers in bars or destroy hotel rooms to move past all that you had lost. You’d been sitting in silence, a brewing pique that you’d let fester for far too long. All the hurt, all the fury, all the heartbreak. 

You didn’t have songs to write about all that. You didn’t have notebooks filled to the brim with those emotions. 

All you had was a shovel, and a deep hole inside yourself that you never thought you’d excavate again. Deep, russet brown eyes that had once lit the pavement for your future, now patronizing your past from the grave. 

A grave you hadn’t been digging alone, apparently. Worlds apart, and you two still had been seemingly in sync with the murder of who Eddie Munson once was. 

But the grave is excavated now, and you don’t think too much as you all but sprint out of the room, a clear destination in mind, that damn notebook in hand. 

—

Google is your greatest friend, your greatest tool, in the end. 

You don’t have the right connections at first. No numbers saved in your phone that you could call for the information, no emails beyond Matt to reach out to. And if there’s anything you’ve learned in working in a business where emails were the sole form of communication, it’s that no one would reply to you as quickly as Eddie had been. 

You didn’t have time. So you decided you’d already crossed a line, and you’d scoured the address of the recording studio that Corroded Coffin uses. 

You’d almost lost hope until you’d seen a paparazzi photo of him leaving said studio. Most news outlets had clearly been paid to keep hush about the location, but some were still the scum of the Earth, and some had left behind evidence. It took more effort on your part than expected, and more scrolling through fan forums than you were proud of, but you’d found it. 

You’d found the address where you would find Eddie Munson. 

Hell hath no self-sought fury like a muse scorned, you suppose. 

That’s what had hurt the most. In hindsight, you’d always known he’d write about you one day. He was an artist, and he had always pulled inspiration from his real life experiences. You’d just always been under the assumption that when the day came, the words on the page may be a happier tune. Something softer, something less hurtful. 

He wasn’t even insulting you, but it certainly felt like he was mocking you. 

You’re blinded by pain as you storm through the front door of the surprisingly small studio, finally feeling the need to lash out after two long years. Two long years of silent misery, silent suffering. You’re no longer the same person who had taken the cowardly way out. There is no instinctive running away from this, no gathering up your existence and disappearing from his life. 

This time, you want to fight. You want to scream at him all that you had felt as well. You wanted him to know the damage done, whether it was the right response or not. 

It probably wasn’t. And there was probably something to be said about the fact that this time, you were willing to fight with him over it. 

“Good afternoon, ma’am,” a young receptionist greets you from the front desk, “Do you have an appointment?” 

“Nope.”

She doesn’t deserve your venom, but she’s getting it straight out of your clipped tone regardless. You’re not here to play niceties with her – you’re here to see Eddie. 

She’s clearly taken back from your straight-forward answer, “Oh, I see. Unfortunately, the studio is currently occupied, but we can-”

“I know the studio’s occupied,” you reply blandly, eyes looking for the elevator, “I’m here to see the bastard currently occupying it.” 

“I- excuse me?” 

You spot the elevator, feet working faster than your mouth as you start to walk over to it, “I said, I’m here to see Eddie Munson. I know he’s in the studio currently, I know him-”

“I can’t let you do that.”

“You’re not really in the business of letting me do anything-”

“Ma’am.” 

You hadn’t noticed the security guard until his hand comes down on your shoulder. The receptionist girl is wide-eyed, looking nervous enough that if you weren’t in the middle of your own spiral, you might feel bad. 

“Let go of me,” you shakily demand, standing still under his hold, “I just need to speak with Ed-”

“No one goes in there without permission from the band or their management,” the man gruffly replies. He may have a good foot on you in height, and the stretch of his muscles beneath the plain black t-shirt might be impressive, but you’re almost convinced by the adrenaline racing through your veins that you could take him. One swift kick of the legs, and you could get to the elevator – you could get to Eddie.

Fight with Eddie. Call Eddie out for all the pain he’d let fester within you for far too long. Probably not even realizing you were calling yourself out in the same breath. 

“Then fucking call them,” you snap, reaching up to swat away his hand, “Call them, and tell them my name-”

“We’ve been given strict instructions to not interrupt them-”

“I could give two shits if we’re interrupting!” you finally yell, fulling tearing yourself away from the strange man’s grasp, “Fucking call Eddie, and tell him-”

It’s the sudden call of your name that breaks the tense moment entirely. Not Eddie’s voice, not even Matt’s voice, but a different voice from your past that has hardly changed.

Standing before you is Gareth Emerson, almost looking entertained at the current exchange happening. 

“She’s with us, man,” he chokes out, clearly holding back laughter as he locks eyes with you, “I can take her back up.” 

“Are you sure?” the security guard presses, looking at you with narrowed eyes, “If this is some insane groupie, Matt will kill me if-”

“I’m not a fucking groupie!” 

You have no reason to be so angry, so defensive. But you’re already a wounded animal, and you’re primed to bite at the slightest inconvenience. 

The wounds of the past are gushing, and being reduced to nothing more than an insane groupie is salt in the blood. Callous, burning, hurtful. 

You’re not just a groupie. 

“She’s not a groupie,” Gareth echoes after you, and his words are far more effective. The guard takes a step back, and Gareth finally lets out a snort that he tries to cover with a cough, “C’mon, Hellfire. Let’s take you upstairs before you burn this whole place to the ground.” 

You swallow down any shock at the old nickname, and you rush to join Gareth’s side, being sure to knock an elbow into his side on your way past him. 

“No one even calls me that anymore,” you mutter, still half-angry, guns still ready to begin blazing in Eddie’s direction once he’s in your sight. 

“Maybe that’s because you haven’t been around the only people that did call you that,” he points out, tone entirely unaffected by your elbow.

“You guys didn’t trademark Hellfire.”

“No, but we sure as Hell made a name for it back in Hawkins.” 

You two stop in front of the elevator, and neither of you make a move to press the call button. You’re all deep breaths, trying to settle yourself as Gareth continues to stare at you. 

“You haven’t changed one bit, you know.” 

His words have you looking up sharply, brows crinkling as you let them sink in, “Excuse me?” 

“I thought you might have changed,” he says, face softening, “You know, the years and city changed you or something. But you’re still… still that same girl we knew. All fiery, always ready for a fight.” 

His last sentence is laced with a bit of sarcasm, some light-hearted joking you hadn’t realized you missed until you’re face to face with it. 

You swallow hard, and you know your own face melts to match his, “That… I… I have changed. That guard was just being a dick.” 

“He was doing his job.”

“Yeah, well,” you sigh, feeling the wisps of fury slip out of your grasps. You almost feel like a toddler, prepared to stomp your foot just to emphasize a losing argument. “He should do his job worse.” 

“And you say you’ve changed,” Gareth teases, bumping his shoulder to yours, “Bullshit, Hellfire. You just let the suits at your job get to you. Maybe you should stick around this time, remember who you were.” 

The words shouldn’t make your chest tighten, but they do. 

Who you were.

Leaving behind Eddie meant more than just leaving behind a failed relationship. It meant leaving everyone. And that included Gareth. That included the version of you that you’ve missed so terribly today that you’ve gone grave-digging, pulling back all emotions to the service. It’s not just anger, it’s not just nostalgia. It’s something deeper and something you can’t erase. A stain on the deepest parts of you that you can’t rid yourself of, even if you’d wanted to. 

Neither of you have pressed the elevator button yet. 

It’s impulsive, but there’s a decision to be made that you won’t overthink. You’re brimming with impulsivity anyways, “Give me your phone number.”

“What?” 

“Give me your number,” you repeat yourself, already digging out your cell phone as you balance Eddie’s notebook in your other hand, “And I’ll stick around this time.” 

You don’t necessarily mean it in the same way he implies, but you mean it in the way that counts. 

You hand your phone over to his waiting palm, and for a moment, it feels like a weight has lifted. 

Even if it all burns down with Eddie. Even if you find the closure you’ve been so desperately seeking out with him, it doesn’t mean you have to leave the others behind. People like Gareth, like Grant, like Jeff – there’s still room for them, somewhere in your new life. You had grown up together practically, at least during the years that had counted, and there was no need to erase them from your history. 

You could find a way. You had to find a way. 

Compartmentalize, rationalize. Justifications and explanations were plentiful. You would find a way to meet the you that once existed and the you that was left behind in the rubble, somehow, someway. 

When Gareth hands you back the phone, there’s a smile twitching in the corners of his mouth, “We should meet up for dinner sometime. I know the rest of the guys, Jeff and Grant, they miss you. And we know this killer pizza place.” 

You don’t fight your returning smile, “Yeah. We should. I think I’d really like that.” 

“Right,” he claps, looking around to clearly see if the guard and receptionist are still watching. They’re momentarily distracted, it seems, by some sort of delivery driver, “Well, I’ll leave you to it. Our studio’s on the third floor.”

“Wait,” his finger has already jabbed at the call button, the sounds of an elevator creaking on its quick descent to you sounding from behind the metal doors, “Aren’t you coming back up with me?” 

“Oh, God, no,” Gareth’s nose scrunches, and his overgrown hair bounces as he shakes his head, “I think I’ve had just about enough of Eddie for the day. The rest of the guys left about an hour ago, anyways, and I’m guessing you two might want some privacy?” You nod at his questioning tone, “Perfect. Then, in that case – third floor, like I said.”

“Thank you, Gareth,” you blurt out, fighting down all the nostalgia. Part of you is aching – part of you just wants to see the other boys again, no longer needing the fight with Eddie, “I- I missed you guys too, for what it’s worth.” 

“We know,” he jokes back, although there’s something in the way he says it that makes you think that maybe they didn’t know that. He finally glances at the notebook in your hands that you’d nearly forgotten about, lively eyes turned simply sad. “Just go and give him Hell, yeah? You’re not the only one who's lost themselves.” 

There’s no chance to ask what Gareth might mean as a ding sounds and the doors slide open. The boy that you have genuinely and sincerely missed nods his head, signaling for you to get in, and you do just that. Mentally preparing yourself with one last gulp of air, one last look at Gareth, before you ready your boxing gloves once more. 

You’re not the only one who's lost themselves.

The doors slide shut, and you punch the button for the third floor. 

eddie's taglist:@capricornrisingsstuff @thisisktrying @mediocredreams @vol2eddie @corrcdedcoffin

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@princessstolas @fangirling-4-ever @eddiesguitarskills @babez-a-licious @josephquinnsfreckles

@writinginthetwilight @trixyvixx @kittydeadbones @munson-addict @bluejeangenies

@cryingglightningg @joannamuns9n @missmarch-99 @rhirojo @findmeincorneliastreet

[curiositydooropened]

Hell Hound • Part One

Being FWBs with metal rockstar, Eddie Munson, is all fun and games until a dozen red roses show up at your door with a warning: Stay Away from The Devil or you will die. Despite your protests, Eddie appoints his personal bodyguard to keep an eye out for you.

Pairing: bodyguard!Steve Harrington x photographer!Reader, rockstar!Eddie x Reader

Wordcount: 10, 712

Warnings: unrequited love, slowburn, jealousy, angst, hurt/comfort, violence, gore, weapons, fighting, death threats, stalker *This chapter also contains allusions of voyeurism, sex, drinking, recreational drug use, religious elements

This blog is 18+ only. I do not give permission for any of my fics to be duplicated, reposted, or put into AI. Thank you!

Navigation • Masterlist

---

Moodboard • Fic Masterlist • Part Two

The interior of the L never looked that beautiful, at least not through Steve’s eyes. Every experience he’d had was tainted by Bears fans or teenagers filming videos on their phone, or God, don’t remind him about St. Patty’s Day. No, the seats were too small for his shoulders, the windows too short, and the whole thing smelled like plastic bags.

Your perspective was vastly different. You were just the right height to catch the sunlight as it filled the train car with that golden glow. The city whirred by, a kaleidoscope of bright lights and reflections off the glass. You positioned poles and handholds just so with satisfying symmetry.

No, the city had never looked as beautiful to him as it had through your lens. 

Steve said that to Robin once, and she wretched over the line and made him promise he’d never repeat it to you. He hadn’t, but he’d also never let one of your photos go un-complimented.

He enjoyed the roll of your eyes, the sink of your teeth into your bottom lip as you soaked in the praise and pretended to be shy, to be embarrassed, that you hated your craft. 

He’d seen that look dozens of times tonight, timid gratitude that poured out of you and onto every surface in this little gallery space. You’d caught his gaze a handful of times, reassured him with a smile that you were okay, great even, oozing with sheepish pride. He’d just nod and go back to admiring another of your photos.

“You know, we used to live in that apartment…” An elderly woman told you, bony hand clung to your forearm. 

“Really? Which one?” You humored her.

“That one, just there, our first year of marriage,” the woman nodded. “Fifth floor.” 

“Fourth floor!” Her husband corrected from your other side.

“It was the fifth floor, now don’t argue with me.” 

“Yes, ma’am,” the man winked at you, and your eyes lit with mischievous delight. You nodded along, conspiratorially while the woman rambled on about the neighbors’ cat meowing and another neighbor practicing saxophone into the wee hours. 

“It was so romantic,” she clutched your hand to her chest.

“It was so annoying,” the husband grinned back at you.

Fed up with her husband’s antics, the woman shot him a rueful look. Then, she patted your hand and told you how lovely your work was before asking for the powder room. 

When she’d been properly directed, her husband leaned to your ear and asked how much for the photo. 

Steve lingered nearby, waiting for the transactional handshake before he stepped in. “Mind if I inquire about this piece?” 

You sucked your cheeks between your teeth and sidled up beside him. His bicep tingled where your skin brushed. “What questions do you have about this one?” 

“Where was it taken?”

You shot him a look, and he tried not to let the smile split his face. The photo you were currently staring at was a portrait of a mom and daughter looking at their reflection in The Bean.

“How’s it going?” He elbowed you, glancing once more around the room at the patrons to your first gallery showing. He’d agreed to come run point for your opening, soft-pitching the idea for Munson to hit out of the park.

“Amazing,” you sighed, the delight on your face swooping at his stomach. 

“Told you.” He grinned, and you swatted his arm and told him to shut up. He really could watch you for hours, the micro-expressions on your face prettier than any photo you could take, though your talent came up a close second. 

“I thought he couldn’t make it,” you gasped, staring just past Steve’s shoulder and out the gallery’s front window.

Steve blinked once, twice. The rapid flash of headlights cast your cheekbones in shadow. He spun on his heel to find his employer and friend, Eddie Munson, slipping out of the backseat of a tinted-windowed SUV. He cursed under his breath and excused himself, shouldering through a confused crowd to meet the rockstar at the door. 

“Harrington,” Eddie pushed his sunglasses through his curls, pupils blown, and flashed a wolfish grin.

“Thought you couldn’t make it.” Steve responded, glancing down alleyways for any paparazzi. He knew once Eddie was spotted in public, they’d come in droves. 

“And miss this? Nah, wouldn’t dream of it, Sugar.” 

You’d followed Steve out into the rain, slipping through party guests to greet Eddie. The rockstar wrapped studded-leather arms around your slender waist and greeted you with something salacious whispered into your ear. Steve knew because of the shocked look stretched over beautiful features, and the way you’d swatted at Eddie’s shoulder as if he’d said something bad enough to curl your toes. 

“We should get inside,” Steve grit his teeth. “Don’t want to alert the paps.” 

“Come on, Sugar,” Eddie dipped into a low bow to let you enter first. “Give me the grand tour.” 

—

“I think I’ll buy all the ones left,” Munson quipped with a lazy arm tugging you back into his chest. 

You snorted, and shook your head. “Then no one else will be able to buy them, which is kind of the point of a gallery.” You gestured around at the carefully placed frames on carefully designed walls. 

“Well, good. Maybe I want you all to myself.” 

Steve’s eyes ached to roll. He collected plastic flutes and discarded trays of half-eaten vegetables and tossed them into large, black garbage sacks. 

“Are you coming over tonight?” 

“I just had my gallery opening,” you barked a laugh, pulling away to help Steve with the table you were leaning on. “I need to sleep.”

“You need to celebrate,” Eddie rationed, tugging you back into him. You yelped, your thumb going into a rogue slice of cake. With waggled brows, Eddie pulled your thumb into his mouth, licking it clean.

Steve thought he might be sick. He turned his back and held open the bag in front of him, just in case. Unfortunately, he could still make out your reflection in the windows out front. Your meticulously picked-out slacks hugged your curves, and Munson’s ringed fingers slipped over the breadth of your backside to squeeze you closer to him. 

“Anything else you need help with?” Steve’s voice tasted awkward, a little too loud, too scratchy. 

You separated from Eddie and dumped your haul into Steve’s bag. “I think that’s it. Thank you for everything, Steve. Really. And I’m serious about paying you.” 

“Yeah, that’s not happening.” He said, twisting the bag closed with a knot. 

You shot him another look and said, “Eddie, tell Steve to let me pay him.” 

“You don’t take money from her, you don’t take money from me, pal.” 

Steve did roll his eyes this time, and glared over your shoulder at the rockstar zipping and unzipping his leather jacket. “Yeah, we have a contract, dumb ass.” 

“I’ll have my lawyer sue your lawyer.” 

“Your lawyer is my lawyer.” 

Eddie grinned. “He’s got me there, Sug.” 

You scoffed and snatched the bag from Steve’s hand. “Fine, I’ll have to come up with some other way to repay you.” 

Steve was thankful for mood lighting and the late hour. His face heated another twenty or so degrees, and he scratched at the hairs prickling on the back of his neck. “Eds, you need me to call you a car?” 

“Would you mind, Stevie-dearest? Sugar, I gotta take a piss. Care to show me the can in this place?” Eddie stood up and adjusted the crotch of his tight jeans for show. 

“You’re a class act, Eddie Munson. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.” You gripped the hefty garbage bag in one hand and took Eddie’s hand in your other as you led him back into the office space of the warehouse. Before the heavy door closed, both of you made eyes at Steve, one friendly, the other randy.

Steve’s stomach churned, and he pulled out his phone to call a car. 

Working with Eddie had been tedious, but simple. Call him a car, shield him from paparazzi and groping fans alike, bring him his hangover cure breakfast, ask beautiful women to sign a Non-Disclosure Agreement before his plethora of one-night stands. 

You were the toughest pill to swallow, a beautiful girl at a hometown gig. 

Hometown gigs meant rowdy afterparties, venue-catered alcohol and executive-catered drugs. It meant too-lax security checkpoints and easily-bribed security detail, and after months on the road, Steve wasn’t in the mood for anyone’s bullshit. So he posted himself at the Green Room door, one eye on the metal detector, one eye on the front man who’d hired him, and prayed the ache between his shoulders would go away soon. Eight more hours and he’d be at home in bed for a long awaited and much needed vacation.

Eddie was two water bottles in, and his hand still trembled when he introduced himself to some recording mogul.

Steve snapped his fingers at some kid and told him quickly to hand Munson another bottle of water and get him a towel. 

When the items had been delivered to a thankful rockstar, Steve turned back to the collection of items being tossed into plastic trays on the outside of the metal detector: a cell phone, keys with a neon carabiner, a leather wallet, a DSLR.

“Whoa, whoa,” he stopped the attendant from picking up the camera. “There’s no press on the guest list.” 

“No press, just freelance,” you said from across the metal threshold. You wore a well-loved leather jacket, softened and faded with time and an expression that toed the line between compliance and try me.

Steve swallowed, shook the stars from his eyes, and crossed his arms over his chest. “Sorry, this is a camera-free zone.”

You narrowed your eyes for a moment before stepping back over the threshold and against the current of waiting party-goers to fiddle with the camera.

“Here,” you cupped something in an outstretched hand, waiting patiently for Steve to accept whatever gift you had to offer.

With caution, he accepted the tiniest of SD cards, bright blue.

“Call it insurance?” You smiled, tongue behind your canine in a way that made him itch under the collar. “Find me before I leave and give it back?”

Munson had found you first, dragging Steve with clammy hands to meet his “dream girl”. He gave the signal for Steve to start pulling up the contract on his phone as he made his way down a long, concrete hallway.

You hadn’t flinched, just cocked a brow and signed your name on the dotted line with a, “Thanks, Steve. Have a great night.”

He kept your SD card. He didn’t even tell Robin that it rested on the corner of his dresser next to a picture of Dustin on his graduation day. 

He assumed he’d never see you again, but Munson had grown a fondness for you, and soon you were a regular part of Chicago meet-ups. Every hometown gig became a room full of you. 

Steve heard giggling from the office, that soft melodic bounce of your laugh against the bass of Eddie’s voice. This was the worst of it, catching you two in compromising positions around parties or Eddie’s ornate penthouse, and pretending like it didn’t kill him inside that it wasn’t him with his hands on you, making you laugh, smelling the warmth of your throat.

His phone buzzed in his hand. 

Robin: How was the gallery opening? Did you tell her you’re in love with her yet? We on for our FaceTime date tonight?

Steve: Eddie showed up. Yup. See you in 10 hours.

Robin: Shit. I just sent you money. Buy yourself a fifth and we’ll drink it together.

A car rolled up outside, blinding him with strong headlights.

“Munson, car’s here!” He called, praying you could both hear him.

There was the shuffle of a few things in the back, and with the clack of Eddie’s boots, you both returned. You looked a little more windswept than before, and Eddie’s sunglasses has been pulled back over his eyes, despite it being nearly midnight. 

“Steve,” you breathed, approaching him with arms outstretched for a friendly embrace. “Thanks again for all of your help tonight. You have no idea how much it means to me.” 

He gave the tightest squeeze he could under supervision and let your hand fall into his to give you one more gentle squeeze. “Anytime. It was really no problem. Do you need a ride home?” 

You shook your head, smile wedged between your teeth. “I guess Eddie wore me down.” 

“Yeah I will.” He snorted, and you shushed him. 

Steve nodded and started for the door. “Cool. Well, have fun, you two. Be safe.” 

“Thanks, man,” Eddie knocked knuckles with his friend, rings sharp against Steve’s scarred fists. “I’ll call tomorrow.” 

Steve swallowed and glanced over his shoulder to bid you one last, weak smile. 

You waggled you fingers, and he stepped out into the cool night air. 

—

“You are the most embarrassing person I know in real life.” Even Robin in lag was brutal. 

Steve sipped his coffee and rubbed at tired eyes. He hadn’t slept much. Mostly, he scrolled and wondered exactly what you and Eddie were getting up to, wondered why it wasn’t him. 

“You asked if she needed a ride home?” 

“I was being polite,” he grumbled. He took a banana off its tree and began to peel. They had all begun to brown. 

“You’re so sweet, Stevie. Like a little lost puppy dog.” 

“Oh fuck off, Robin. Remember you and that girl in Buchapest?” 

“Bucharest,” she corrected his pronunciation. “And she was merely a fleeting crush.” 

“You cried over her for like three weeks.” He shot his best friend a look over the screen. 

The lighting was horrible in her Istanbul flat, internet connection worse. Steve told her he’d pay for anything better, but she argued that he needed to quit babying her and let her live the nomadic experienced she’d always dreamed of. 

“Okay, okay,” her connection stuttered in and out, face pixelated as she ducked out of frame and back. “So you’re going to be alone forever. That’s not so bad.” 

“At least I have you.” Steve nodded, mouth full of squishy sweet banana. 

He nearly choked when his phone began to ring in his hand, your name and photo popping up on the display screen. “Robin, it’s her.” 

“What?” 

“She’s calling me.” He held his phone to the camera on his laptop to prove a point. 

“Speaker phone!” Robin squeaked. 

With a sigh, he answered, phone pressed to his ear to respect your privacy. Robin glared. 

“Hello?”

“Steve?” The worry in your voice had his heart kicking up in his throat. 

“What’s wrong?” 

Robin echoed his sentiments until he snapped his fingers and put his finger to his lips to quiet her.

“Nothing, it’s um… could you… are you busy?” 

“Nope. Not busy at all,” he said. Robin threw a silent fit on her end. “What’s going on?”

“Could you just… come down to the gallery? I need your help with something.”

“Yeah,” he frowned, walked the rest of his banana to the garbage can. “Like, later today?”

“Or right now. Could you come right now? As soon as possible?”

His stomach dropped to his feet. “Yes. Yes, I will be right there. Keep the door locked until I get there.”

“Okay. Thank you.” 

He hung up and rushed to the door to get his shoes on. His keys and wallet were in his pocket before he heard another voice echo throughout his kitchen. 

“Harrington!? Hello!? Earth to Dingus!”

“Shit,” he sidled up to his laptop. “Robin, I am so sorry.” 

She managed a knowing smirk and a laggy nod. “Yeah, you owe me, big time Harrington. Text me everything that happens.”

“I love you,” he agreed. 

“See you next week!” 

“In real life!” He hung up before she had a chance to blabber on, and he was out the door.

—

The worry etched across your beautiful features was devastating. 

Steve yearned to wrap you into his arms and promise he’d protect you, to kiss the frown lines from between your brows, to tickle at your ribs until you smiled again. 

Instead, he stood three feet away, inspecting a bouquet of three dozen red roses that had been delivered to the gallery that morning with a note attached.

Roses are Red

Beauty is You

Stay away from the Devil

Before he kills you

A printed photograph was pinned to the card, a pap photo from a gala you and Eddie had attended together a few weeks ago. Eddie’s shoulders were squeezed into a rhinestoned blazer, flash reflecting off his sunglasses. Devil horns and a tale had been crudely drawn over his features in red ball point pen. You stood beside him, hand-in-hand, curves standing out in a black silk dress. One small strap was dangling off your shoulder. The same pen was used to etch slash marks through your exposed throat, so hard it had ripped through the page.

“Is this… like Eddie wouldn’t do this, right?” Your voice shook, hand trembling against your cheekbone. You balled a tissue into your fist.

“No! God no,” Steve ran a hand through his hair. “I mean, Jesus, I hope not.” He muttered under his breath. “Have you called him?”

You shrugged, nodded. “I tried, and texted. He was still asleep when I left.”

Steve cleared his throat with a nod, remembering you’d gone home with the rockstar. You probably slipped out of black silk sheets and into the black and grey marbled shower. You probably toed around in front of the massive high-rise window, searching for various garments that had been removed on every inch of the house. Maybe you’d made yourself a latte, with a splash of lavender like you like it, wearing an oversized black hoodie that smelled of weed and cigarettes and some cologne Steve couldn’t afford.

“I can try again,” you fished your phone from your back pocket and dialed.

Steve plucked the card from the roses for any indication of a delivery service or floral company, but the card was blank, ivory, high-quality. “Who delivered these?”

“Old guy, balding, green vest,” you shrugged. 

Steve nodded.

“Hey, Sugar,” Eddie’s voice rasped over speaker. “S’matter. Did you leave something here, or d’you just miss me?”

“No, um…” You changed your balance from one foot to the other. “Eds, did you send me roses?”

“Fuck, you want me to eat you out and send you roses?” The rockstar chuckled.

Steve swallowed and didn’t dare look at you directly. He felt the heat radiating off of you as you frantically turned off speaker-phone and held the device to your ear, covering your face with a hand.

“No, babe, Jesus. I got a delivery of roses today with a um…” Your voice trembled again.

Steve brushed delicate fingers to your arm and held out his hand to take the phone.

You gave it willingly.

“Eddie, hey,” Steve sighed. 

“Harrington? What is going on? Am I still asleep?”

“No, dude, she called me when she couldn’t get ahold of you. Listen, there’s this big bouquet of roses here with a death threat attached. You didn’t have anything to do with this, right? It’s not some kind of prank?”

“A death threat? What do you mean? A prank? Jesus, how shitty of a person do you think I am? Is she okay? I’m coming down there.”

Steve winced around the shuffle of bedsheets and the sound of Eddie clomping around his bedroom.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, dude. Here, let me send you a picture.”

Steve took his own phone out to take and send a photo, rifling past a barrage of text messages from Robin. 

You’d propped yourself on the reception desk, eyes darting between the flowers and outside. The morning light poured in, hollowing your cheekbones and painting your walls pink. 

Steve reached for your elbow, running his thumb over the bit of skin there to pull your focus back.

You offered a sheepish smile and squeezed his wrist.

“Oh what the fuck?” Eddie yelled through the phone, startling you both. 

“Yeah, it’s bad,” Steve agreed, rubbing at tired eyes.

“Is she okay? Let me talk to her. Wait, Harrington, do you think it’s Carver?”

Steve’s blood ran cold. 

Jason Carver was a religious zealot from a small town with a vendetta for Eddie Munson and “demons like him”. Two years ago, his army of his cronies marched to a Corroded Coffin show in Milwaukee and set the place on fire. They managed to get everyone out of the bar before the roof collapsed. More Molotovs were thrown before the cops arrived.

Since Carver wasn’t in attendance and denied any involvement in inciting the riot, he received a slap on the wrist and no jail time. The band did manage an airtight restraining order, but Steve doubted that looped in contact with Munson’s hook-ups.

He cursed under his breath.

“Yeah, fuck is right. Let me talk to her. Don’t let her leave your sight. I’ll pay you triple if I have to. Twenty-four hour surveillance. You hear me?”

“Don’t worry about the cash, man,” Steve shook his head. “I won’t leave her. I’m going to call the delivery company and see if they can give me any more information on the purchase, and then I’ll call Joyce and see if she can’t get her written into the restraining order.” 

“Thank you, man. I want you to take her home to get her stuff and then bring her over here. If it is him, he can’t get to her here.”

Steve hated that he was right.

“Put her on for me. Thanks again, bro.”

With a resigned sigh, Steve slipped the phone back into your trembling hands.

He overheard Eddie’s tone slip into something softer, “Sugar, how’re you doing? Are you alright? I’m so so sorry this happened to you, my sweet girl.”

You gave Steve’s hand one more squeeze before you wandered off across the gallery for some privacy in your phone call. 

Steve opened his browser to began searching for the delivery company’s number with a pit in his stomach and an unfillable ache in his chest.

—

Robin: OMFG that’s so scary. Is she ok? Are you ok? Is Eddie ok? I’m going to be there in a week, plz don’t get murdered.

—

Your keys clicked in the lock, and you toed open the door to your little apartment. Light poured in through large windows, casting warmth on the small space that the dark hallway hid. You stepped in first, and Steve followed with trepidation. 

He’d never been to your house, and when he walked over the threshold, he was overpowered by how you it felt. The whole place smelled of you, of your shampoo and the perfume you spritz on special nights. Your little kitchen table was scattered with stacks of old mail and rolls of film. A laptop sat open on a squishy futon sofa. Beneath your television were a handful of films he knew you loved. 

“How long um… how much should I pack?” You squinted, pinching at the bridge of your nose. “I’m sorry,” you sighed. “This is a lot, and I don’t know how to handle it.” 

Once again, he felt the ache to pull you into him, to whisper sweet words into your hair. Instead he gestured to a bar stool. “Take a seat. Take a breath. I’m going to check the house, if that’s alright.” 

He winced as your face flooded with realization, and fear. 

“It’s probably fine. I just want to be safe.” He tried to sound nonchalant, shoving his hands into his pockets.

You swallowed, nodded, gestured for him to go ahead. “Sorry it’s a mess.” 

He waved you off with a knowing smile and started down the hallway, relieved when he turned to see you sitting as instructed. You’d been on your feet all day, making arrangements with the gallery owners to have someone take your shift for the evening and tomorrow. When you weren’t on the phone or emailing buyers, you were staring out the windows, a far-off gaze in your eye. You held that now, looking down your living room windows at the busy downtown street below.

Steve took the first door to the left and found a small bathroom. Some tiles in the corner were cracked, and the sink was scattered with the remnants of a makeup bag, a toothbrush. The bathtub’s curtain was pulled back to reveal a loofah dangling from the faucet. 

Your bedroom waited at the end of the hall. His fingertips pushed the door open, breath shallow, face warm.

Sage green linens were crumpled on your bed with three overstuffed pillows. Dirty clothes littered your floor in piles leading to and from the closet. That black satin dress topped an armchair, the strap snapped.

Steve swallowed.

A hefty dresser sat to the right of the door, the top scattered with trinkets and photographs. He was surprised to find his own image scowling back at him, arms crossed, black t-shirt on, leaning against a concrete wall. The sun hit him just so, framing his eyes like a superhero mask, the rest of him cast in shadow. God, all of the world really was better through your lens.

“All clear?” Your soft voice startled him.

He cleared his throat, cheeks warm, to find you at the doorway, hugging your arms to yourself. He smiled. “Clear. I’ll just wait in the front room.” He gestured to slip past you.

“Actually, do you mind hanging out? It’ll only take a second.” You gestured for him to sit on the bed before you scampered about your room, picking up the dirty clothes and depositing them into the hamper.

He remained standing in the doorway, arms crossed like they were in the photo. “Get enough for a couple of days if you want, but we’re going to get this figured out.”

You wore your anxiety like a jacket, hunched shoulders and furrowed brow, a shell of the vibrant woman he knew. 

He took a few steps forward, halting your frantic shoving of clothes in a backpack.

You blinked back up at him, eyes wide, hands trembling.

“I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

You laughed then, a manically sound that didn’t meet your eyes. “Steve, am I just insane? Or stupid? Am I the dumbest person in the entire world?” 

“What?” He tried not to focus on the way your hair haloed around your face, light pouring in through gossamer curtains.

“I knew the novelty of sleeping with a rockstar would wear off eventually, but I was thinking like he’d cheat on me with a super model or maybe I’d get a curable STD, but not this.” It was the most you’d spoken all day, your old self sinking back into your voice.

Steve smiled, itched at the back of his neck, shrugged. “Eddie’s a very charming man.” 

You rolled your eyes. “I mean, okay, Eddie’s good, but he’s not death-threats good.”

Steve felt a little surge of excitement at this knowledge, maybe a bit of competition sparking in him again. “Sure, but he’s a good guy. He really likes you.”

“I think he calls me ‘Sugar’ because he forgot my real name and got too embarrassed to ask.” 

Your confession had Steve’s jaw on the floor, and when you laughed, he felt light as air. This time your laugh met your eyes, met your mouth, your cheeks. You swatted at his chest.

“Steve, you were supposed to tell me that’s not true.” 

Steve snickered and merely shrugged.

“Ugh, I’m so stupid.” You pushed past him and to the bathroom to start collecting your toiletries. The anxiety was temporarily snuffed and replaced with the ease of routine, of being in your space surrounded by your things, and Steve felt himself relax a bit knowing you were comfortable.

—

Joyce: Got it taken care of, sweetheart. Hop says he’ll file a report and to let him know if you need an extra hand. Dinner next weekend? Steak and potatoes? Take care of yourself.

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—

Munson pulled his ragged hair up into a bun with a hair tie he kept around his wrist. Steve often wondered if it was yours, or if the rockstar pulled it from the locks of some groupie on the road, long nights spent in truck stops and blues houses. The tie had lost some elasticity over the years, and tendrils managed to fall into the man’s eyes, and even still, he looked cool, casual, calm.

He was anything but calm. His knee bounced as he took a glass of water from Steve filled for him. “What did I do wrong, man?” 

Steve sighed and sat across from him, back to massive windows overlooking the city lights. He kept his mouth shut, not wanting to be caught in the middle of this tiff you were having. 

“I mean, I just want to keep her safe. I’m the one that got her in this mess in the first place.” Eddie extended an inked arm toward his bedroom door. You’d been in there for over an hour now, having excused yourself to bed for the night. 

You’d made a point that you were going to bed alone.

“Should I not have told her how I feel?”

Steve pinched at this bridge of his nose, eyes tired and struggling to focus in a room of black velour upholstery and gold trim. 

The spat started when Eddie informed you he’d booked your ticket to join him in England for the next few months while Corroded Coffin records their next album. It ended when Eddie, on bended knees, hands gripping your ribcage, told you he loved you.

Steve watched the entire exchange awkwardly from the kitchen, trying to blend in with white marble countertops.

Apparently, today was a day for firsts. He’d never seen you as nervous as he had in the gallery that morning, and he’d never seen you as angry. You were the silent type, but he felt the rage radiating off of your frame, the clench of your jaw, the subtle brush of Eddie’s hands from your waist.

He caught your gaze when you exited the room, and your demeanor shifted to apologetic, embarrassed maybe. He managed a tight-lipped smile and a wave. 

“Harrington,” Eddie snapped his fingers. “Come on, you’re good with women, right? Help me out.” 

Steve snorted. He’d been good with women, sure, but not since you waltzed into his life with your SD card and that smirk.

“How do we make up?” Munson’s shoulders were hunched, face fraught with worry.

With another drawn out sigh, Steve shrugged. “Give her space, man. She had a really scary day. You remember your first death threat, right? She needs time to process and not for you to demand she be shipped off to another country for two months.” 

Eddie nodded, too much, too exuberantly. “Okay, okay. You’re right. That makes sense. I just…” He lowered his voice. “I just don’t want to lose her.” 

That emotion, Steve understood. It was a fear that prickled at the base of his neck anytime Eddie winked at another girl in the front row, anytime he had his arms looped over two women backstage, anytime his phone sat on the coffee table between them with Sugar blowing up the notifications, neglected. Didn’t Eddie know what he had in you?

“We won’t.” He shook his head. 

Eddie nodded. “You’re a good man, Steve Harrington. I’m sure going to miss you.” 

Steve frowned at that, arms crossed over his chest. “Miss me? The hell are you talking about?” 

“When I’m in England,” Eddie explained, reaching forward for the tin lunch box he kept tucked under the coffee table. The lid hid the glass with a clang, and he reached in for rolling papers, a lighter, and a ziplock bag full of weed.

“Are you firing me?” Steve wasn’t following.

Munson snorted, rolled a neat joint, licked it closed. “Harrington, it’s a good thing you’re pretty.” 

Steve warmed, as he often did when someone complimented him, and frowned. “Cut the crap. What’re you talking about?”

“You’re going to stay here, with her.” He nodded your direction and lit up, flame glowing in big, brown eyes while he took a drag. He held onto it for a minute, shoulders going slack, knee stopping its bounce. He tilted his head against the back of the couch and released a large billow of smoke skyward, casting the room in a sickly sweet haze.

“She’s right, man,” he continued. “It’s not fair of me to take her from her gallery. She worked too hard for this.”

He sat up, offered the joint to his friend. Steve declined, head already starting to spin.

Eddie shrugged and took another hit. “I need you to protect her.” 

Steve nodded. That was the easiest thing his friend had ever asked him to do.

“While I’m away, think you could do me another favor?

More smoke billowed from the man’s pink lips, that familiar Munson charm tugging at the corners of his mouth until his teeth were bared in that irresistible grin he was so famous for. He leaned forward then, gesturing for Steve to meet him at the center of the coffee table.

Steve leaned forward, and then a little more when the gesturing didn’t stop, rolling his eyes. “What now?”

Eddie’s smile fell to something far more serious, concern etched in his features, Adam’s apple bobbing, eyes big like a baby deer in the headlights. Steve had only seen him this scared a handful of times. “I need you to use those killer wingman skills of yours to make her fall in love with me.” 

Steve’s mouth almost fell open. He had to clench his jaw to keep from doing so, blinking across the six-inch gap at his friend. He could taste the weed on the other boy’s lips, the sweat off his brow. 

“Please, man. I can’t lose her.” 

—

Robin: You said yes!? How much do you actually hate yourself, Harrington?

Steve: You don’t want me to answer that, do you?

Robin: Was it the baby deer eyes?

Steve: Obviously.

Steve thanked Becky at the front desk with a wink, desperate the ego stroke he got every time she smiled at him like he hung the moon on a string. 

Mood boosted, he balanced the coffee order in one hand and his phone in the other and ducked into the nearest elevator that would take him to the penthouse. 

Steve: What do we think of Front Desk Becky?

Robin: You leave that sweet girl out of this. 

Sufficiently deflated by his wise best friend, Steve keyed in the code to Eddie’s penthouse and let himself back in. Your sneakers remained on the entry rug, camera bag discarded on a nearby table. 

Eddie’s bedroom door was open, satin sheets crumpled and pillows stacked to accommodate one. Upon quick glance, the ceiling mirror reveled the room to be empty. 

Steve frowned. He hoped he hadn’t woken you. 

He pressed forward down the hall and into the open living space, setting the cardboard coffee carrier on the kitchen island before turning to find you pressed against the glass, silhouetted in pink morning sunlight. Eddie’s face was buried into your neck, hands unseen, and your eyelids were heavy, pink lips bowed in ecstasy.

Steve froze. He knew he should look away, leave the room, make a noise, but his gaze lingered on the soft skin of your thigh hitched up Eddie’s leg, the curve of your calf, the point of your toe. 

He could hear his heartbeat thundering, breath held, desperate not to make a sound or to scream and run. 

Eddie dipped to his knees, mouth finding purchase lower on your chest.

Steve caught your gaze. Your eyes widened, and you shoved Eddie away from you and scrambled to cover bare skin with an oversized black hoodie. 

“Steve,” you breathed, and Jesus it was dizzying. “I’m so sorry. I thought you left.” You pulled the hoodie down in a vain attempt at covering your thighs, looking everywhere but at the bodyguard in the kitchen.

He felt his own face warm, tapping fingertips to the countertops. His throat felt tight, a loss for words. His pants felt tighter.

“I ordered us coffee, Sugar,” Munson recovered the quickest, taking your hand to help himself off the floor and lead you into the kitchen.

You resisted his pull, taking a few steps back to say, “I’m going to get ready.”

“Need help?” Eddie waggled his eyebrows, grinning like a dog. Steve tried to ignore how wet the man’s lips looked.

You shook your head, venturing a glance Steve’s direction and looking immediately away when you were caught. Then you slunk off back to the bedroom from whence you came.

When he finally heard the click of the door, Steve frowned at his employer. “Guess I should’ve knocked.” 

Eddie waggled his brows at Steve, too, taking his cup from the carrier and managing a sip. 

Steve was ready with an ice water to cool the man’s burned tongue. “Does this mean you made up?”

Eddie shook his head fervently, tonguing at his water like a dog. “Hell no. She told me she’s going to the gallery today because, and I quote, she ‘can’t be held hostage in this velvet prison forever’.”

Steve grinned over his own steaming coffee and shrugged in commiseration to his friend.

Eddie nodded, took a gentler sip of his own coffee this time. “Had to shut her up when she started telling me to ‘have fun in the UK’ and maybe I should look up some old friends while I’m there.” 

Steve swallowed and nodded. “I mean, Lizzie.” 

“Don’t make me pin you to that window, Harrington,” the rockstar warned, inked finger extended with a scowl. 

Steve followed his point to the window, wherein he could just make out the smudges of four distinct handprints, two much smaller than the others. There was also the faintest of smudges where your ass had been pressed against the glass. Steve coughed at the saliva gathering in his mouth.

“Eds?” You called upon reentry, voice echoing off concrete floors. “I’m leaving. I’ll… call you or something.” You were dressed and you had a tube of lipgloss in your hand, uncorked. 

Eddie scrambled for you, scooping you up in his arms. 

You stiffened, glancing up at the bodyguard keeping watch in the corner. 

Steve swallowed, made himself look busy. 

“Sugar, Steve’s going to keep an eye on you, just until we figure this death threat thing out, okay?” Eddie cleared the hair from your face.

Steve glanced back up to see you roll your eyes.

“I don’t need a babysitter. No offense, Steve.” You held a hand up to him. 

“He’s not a babysitter,” Eddie snapped, “and he’s going to keep you safe. I can’t lose you. You hear me?” He pulled your gaze back to him, cupping your small jaw in large hands. “I love you.” 

“Eddie,” you winced, tugging at his wrists.

The rockstar dropped his hands, shoulders hunched in defeat, and he turned to give Steve a pleading look before he turned back to you. “Alright, Sug. I’ll see you in two months. I’ll call as often as I can.” 

“Okay,” you nodded and allowed him to press a sweet kiss to your lips.

—

Your lipstick stained the lid of your lavender latte, peachy pink. Your nails were freshly manicured for the gallery opening, and you always wore that delicate gold ring on your middle finger. 

You set your cup on the countertop and didn’t look up from your laptop to say, “If you’re bored, you don’t have to stay here. I promise I’ll tell Eddie I never left your sight.” 

Steve smiled over his own cup. “I’m not bored.” To appear occupied, he settled onto the desk behind yours and pulled out his phone.

The first image on his feed was yours, something you’d managed to snap of the old woman and her husband from the opening. They stared at the portrait of their apartment building, hand-in-hand, and you’d taken it at just the right instant, when the husband was smiling down at his wife.

Mr. and Mrs. Edgar Jones • Chicago

The gallery opening was everything I’d ever hoped for. Thank you to all sponsors and patrons who attended and to everyone who helped pull this together. If you’d like to check out my work, please drop by the gallery and say hello.

Steve hummed to himself, double-tapping, and typed a comment.

sharrington: Best gallery opening I’ve been to.

“Steve,” you scolded, “quit commenting on my shit. I’m standing right here.” It was the first smile he’d seen since yesterday. 

“Oh, sorry,” he grinned, crossing his arms over his chest again to say, “Yours was the best gallery opening I’ve been to.”

That beautiful smile tugged even higher on your cheeks, despite your eye roll. “It was the only gallery opening you’ve been to.”

“You don’t know that,” he feigned offense.

You cocked a brow, bursting his facade until you were both snickering a laugh.

“Okay, but come on,” he pushed himself off the desk and strolled out into the open gallery. Egg shell white walls were naturally lit by skylights and the fourth glass wall of the small space. “This place was packed with people obsessed with your work, myself included.”

“Yeah?” You smiled, but remained behind the shelter of your desk. “Which one’s your favorite?”

A bubble of giddy excitement kicked in his chest, and he turned to face your artwork. The sunlight reflecting off the lake was good, the streak of streetlights in the rain, a collection of big, red brick buildings: all of these were his favorite. You’d managed to capture his city in unique and beautiful ways.

He pointed at each one and glanced back to see you shaking your head, eyes brightening and mouth failing to hide that smile.

Finally, he found that photo of the L he was admiring that night and wrapped his knuckles near it. “This one. You managed to capture no plastic bags.”

You rolled your eyes, but let his gesture pull you from your desk. “You can’t see it, but there was one caught around my ankle when I took the shot.”

Steve laughed. “Now that’s something I’d pay to see.” 

You sucked your cheeks in a pout and glanced down the row at all of your photos, your accomplishments on display. “Steve,” you muttered. “Can I… vent for a second?”

“Of course,” he nodded, turning to face you, giving you his undivided attention.

You turned your body toward him as well, hands tucked under your arms. “It’s about Eddie.”

Steve felt his brow raise, but he nodded, miming the zip of his lips and extending you the key.

You chewed around another smile and extended your hand for him to place the invisible key into and wrapped your beautiful fingers around it. Then, you looked back at your photograph and chewed on your words.

Steve leaned forward to catch your gaze, pull your focus back on him.

You sighed, shrugged. “It’s just… Eddie’s used to having women fall at his feet and do whatever he says, isn’t he?”

Steve tried to keep his expression stoic, but it was hard when he thought of all the bras he’d kicked off of a stage, all of the groupies Eddie fingered in the wings, all of the women he’d had to call a ride share for to ensure they got home safely, too wobbly on their legs to drive.

You barked a laugh. “I know he is because I’m one of them.” You didn’t seem amused.

Steve frowned, shook his head. You deserve more credit than that. You weren’t like the others, not by a long shot.

“He came to my opening, right? He saw how important this was to me. Hell, he told you to help me run it because he had faith in me that it was going to be big.” You gestured around wildly as you spoke, frustration building in your tone. “And yet, he expects me to just pack up everything and fly to England for two months?”

Steve swallowed, chewing on his own words now.

“I know, it’s because he’s worried about me, and I do appreciate that, but it’s also like… I feel like he didn’t know what he had in me until he saw me get spooked, and now he’s trying to lock me down.” You frowned. “I can’t be broken. I’m not a horse.”

Steve nodded.

You paused a moment longer before looking into his eyes again. “If I ask you something, you promise to be honest with me?”

He nodded again, slowly. He’d do anything for you.

“Do you think he’s really in love with me?”

Steve’s heart shattered at the hope that lingered in your voice. He swallowed, remembered his promise to Eddie, and nodded.

You let out another strained laugh, as though you couldn’t believe it, and centered yourself before asking another. “Do you think he’s going to sleep with other women while he’s away?”

Again, Steve steeled himself with a deep breath, and shook his head. Eddie wouldn’t if he knew what was good for him, and what was good for him was you.

You cocked a brow, unbelieving of this answer, and toyed with another question in your mind for a moment. “Do you think I should go with him to England?”

Steve furrowed his eyebrows and shook his head, gesturing around at your beautiful gallery. Two months with Eddie Munson wasn’t worth giving all of this up. If he was serious, and he really did love you, he’d prove it to you when he got back. 

Your lips ticked upwards at that answer. “Hey, this zipped-lip Steve thing is kind of fun. I should have made you shut up a long time ago.” 

Steve rolled his eyes and snorted at your delight.

You reached your hands out to grab his, swinging them back and forth between the two of you. Your hands were warm and and small and soft. “Hey, Steve, is there something you really, really want to tell me, but can’t? Because you can, you know.” You smirked. “This is a safe space. We’re all friends here.”

Sunlight poured in through the windows, casting your face in a golden glow. Your eyes sparkled, cheeks round, lips that soft, peachy pink.

There were so many things he wanted to say to you, he didn’t know where to start. So he caressed the backs of your hands with his thumbs and nudged you ever-closer.

The toes of your sneakers touched. Your eyelashes batted. You tilted your face skyward to look up at him. You licked your lips.

God, he wished he could kiss you. He wished he could taste the lavender of your latte and the length of your throat. He wished he could press you to the glass and let the world know you were his. He wished he could tell you every day for the rest of his life how beautiful you are, how talented you are, how perfect you are. 

The smile fell from your face. You released one of his hands to brush hair from his forehead. 

He held his breath. 

You searched his gaze for something, your own features filled with worry, and you nodded. “You’re really scared about this Jason Carver guy, huh?”

Steve blinked. He’d forgotten entirely about the roses, the death threat, the reason he’d been paid to spend time with you, to watch over you, to protect you. 

He cleared his throat and looked down at your hand in his. He brushed the back of it again with his thumb. His throat was tight, voice raw. “I just want to keep you safe.”

A bell rang, putting a few feet between you. You adjusted your hair and straightened your top before shooting him a ‘wish me luck’ look and stepping away to greet your newest buyer.

—

Hopper: No leads on that delivery. I’ve got Callahan asking around. Powell’s looking into Carver. Keep me posted on other developments.

Steve tapped nervous fingers to the deli’s glass countertops, craning his neck for a vantage on your gallery windows. 

You’d practically forced him out, insisting this was your favorite sandwich place in town and nothing else would suffice. When he offered to pay for delivery, you reminded him how uncomfortable you felt with deliverers right now and promised you’d lock the door behind him. He wished he could have convinced you to join him.

“Dude, we’re going as fast as we can,” the sandwich artist snapped, cutting pastrami into thin slices. 

Steve frowned back at him, confused for a moment, before taking his hand from the glass and shoving it into his jeans pocket. “Oh, sorry.” His foot tapped instead.

An 80s love ballad played over the speakers, and the whole place smelled of cold cuts. A small line had formed behind the counter of people going about their day-to-day. 

Steve looked at each one of them as a suspect. Though, he was pretty sure Babushka in the headscarf wasn’t eliciting death threats to beautiful girls via three dozen red roses. She felt more like the cast-a-spell type. 

He snorted and glanced back out the window just in time to see a black car pull up to the gallery. A man stepped out. 

“Forty-five?” The deli employee called out.

Steve took a few steps toward the window, squinting against the glare to see a tall man with white hair approach the glass. He wrapped two knuckles on the front door. You met him there.

“Dude, your sandwiches!” The guy behind the counter called, and Steve cursed, grabbing them with a thanks and a nod.

He glanced up just in time to see you unlocking and opening the gallery door, and he began to run your direction.

“Hey, man! You forgot your pickles! Asshole…” 

The wind whipped at his ears, and he nearly ran out in front of a moving vehicle. The driver honked and flipped him off, and Steve waited for him to pass before checking both ways and crossing to get to you again. 

He made a mental note of the black car’s license plate: GCCF and swung open the gallery door with a ring of the bell. 

The man stood beside you, tall and lanky, with broad shoulders and a haircut that hadn’t changed since the early 70s. He wore a grey suit, and a black tie, and a smile as he admired your photos.

You smiled at Steve from across the space and waved.

Relief warmed Steve’s spine, and he toed to the desktop to place the sandwich bag, careful not to make any noise so he could overhear bits of your conversation.

“That sounds like an amazing opportunity,” you said, even-keeled, though Steve knew you were bursting inside. “I’m honored for the invitation.” 

“I’m glad you agree,” the man chuckled. “Your talent really is a gift to this city, and we’ll be proud to display your work in our halls.” 

You were beaming. Steve’s stomach flipped.

“Now, our guests usually love to speak with the artists featured in the auction. Are you free Friday evening? Could I coax you to attend?” The man turned to face you now, reaching into his inside pocket for something.

Steve took two steps forward. 

The man extended you a small, white slip of paper. 

You read it over with a tight-lipped nod. Then you smiled. “I would love to go.” 

“Excellent,” the man nodded. “It is black tie. Could I give my assistant the name of a plus-one?” 

You swallowed before answering. “Sure, Steve Harrington.” 

Steve felt his face warm, and he nearly tripped over a power cord stepping back behind the desk. 

The man you were speaking to nodded with a knowing smile and glanced down at his watch. “Well, unfortunately I must be going. I have a lunch meeting to attend. Good timing too, it seems as if your lunch has arrived, and it smells delicious.” He ventured a glance Steve’s direction, and the bodyguard squared his shoulders. 

“Thank you so much for dropping by, and for your business. I look forward to the event.” You smiled, extending a hand for the stranger to shake.

He reciprocated your gesture. “Thank you for your work, my dear. It is breathtaking. Expect that deposit by end of day, and we’ll see you Friday evening. Have a great day.” 

“You too.” 

Steve watched you watch the man walk to the door and get into his car. Your chest was still, breath held until the black car was started and began to drive. 

Then, you began to jump up and down, screaming, like a teenaged girl who had just been asked to prom. 

Steve frowned, shaking his t-shirt to dry the sweat that clung to his back. “What’s going on?”

You grinned and did an adorable little skip and hop back to your desk, sliding two pieces of paper across for him to read. Then, you broke into the sandwich bag.

Steve peered down at a stark white business card with grey lettering, and a matching invitation. 

Martin Brenner

Founder and CEO

Gifted Children of Chicago Foundation

Gifted Children of Chicago Foundation

Annual Gala and Live Auction

“So, this guy, Brenner or whatever,” you explained, peeling the parchment paper from your bread, “just came in and bought my entire playground collection. Can you believe it? All nine photos. He said he’s going to hang them in the halls of his school.” The sound that came from your lips exceeded dogs’ hearing in pitch.

Steve bit back a smile to let you continue.

You took a huge bite of your sandwich first, olive oil clinging to the corner of your lips and dripping down the back of your hand. 

Steve shook a napkin from the paper bag and handed it to you.

You thanked him, mouth full, and swallowed before mopping your face. “Then he says he wants to offer up another one of my pieces in their annual live auction.”

Steve snapped a photo of the two cards and sent them to his contacts in the police force for some background information, nodding to let you know he was listening.

“Do you own a tuxedo, by the way?” You asked, cheek chipmunked.

Steve frowned back at you. He’d been head of security for Corroded Coffin for upwards of six years. He’d been to more award shows than he could count. Of course he had a tuxedo. 

“What?” You feigned innocence, cracking into one of the sodas you’d pulled from the vending machine while you waited for Steve to return. “If you have to be my new bodyguard, I can’t go to this gala alone.”

He sighed and began to neatly unfold his own sandwich, lettuce falling every which way. “Yes, I have a tuxedo.” 

“Really?” You grinned. “I should bring my camera.” 

He shot you a look. “You going to tell me why you unlocked the door for a random stranger while I was picking up your lunch?” 

You swallowed. “He sent me an email?”

Steve maintained eye contact while he popped the tab on his own soda, shoulders squared. He felt like a dad every time he interrogated Eddie for late nights out with no correspondence. The stance didn’t translate well to Robin over text. 

“I figured I could take an old man,” you shrugged.

Steve cocked an eyebrow.

You sighed. “Okay, I’m sorry. Won’t happen again.”

Satisfied, for now, Steve took a bite into his sandwich and stared back down at the business card on the tabletop, hoping this guy didn’t have any ties to Carver or whoever it was that sent you that note.

“No pickles?” You frowned, peeking into the mostly empty paper sack.

—

1 Voicemail

Hey, kid. It’s Hopper. Brenner’s one of Chicago elites, but as far as we know he’s harmless. He runs that school for gifted kids. Real pillar of the community type. Could be mob ties, but who the hell in this city doesn’t have mob ties? 

Couldn’t find anything on the delivery company, and no florists in town filled orders that big. Something’s definitely off. Powell spoke to Carver’s assistant, but he was out of the office. Keep an eye out.

Joyce wanted me to invite you and the girl to dinner. Stay safe, kid. Let me know if anything else comes up.

Lucas: All safely on the plane and ready for take off. England won’t be the same without you, man. Take care.

Eddie: Ready for take off. Thanks for taking care of my girl, big man. See you in two months.

Robin: You’re sitting in your car watching her apartment? You’re a creep, Harrington. Please tell me you don’t know the color of her bra tonight.

Steve groaned and rubbed at tired eyes.

He hated that he knew your bra was a soft, stone grey. He’d seen the strap slip down your arm. You’d caught it and pushed it back up, mid-conversation with a browser this afternoon. 

He glanced up from the glare of his phone at your open front window. He couldn’t see anything substantial from this vantage, just the shadows cast on dimly lit ceilings as you moved around your home. 

Maybe Robin was right, maybe he should go home and rest. No more threats had been issued today, that he knew of. You seemed to be less afraid than you were the day before, and with Eddie gone, maybe you weren’t in as much harm as you had been. Still, something gnawed at him. 

Steve startled when his phone began vibrating in his hand. Your name, and a photo of you grinning back at him, filled his little car with light. He answered. “Hello?”

“I can see you.”

Steve gulped and shifted to look back up at your window. You stood there in an oversized sweatshirt, waggling your fingers.

“Come inside, please.”

“What?”

“Bring your fedora and binoculars and come on up. I’ll buzz you in.”

You met him at the door in baggy clothes with two glasses of wine in your hand. You waited for him to step out of his shoes and shrug off his jacket before handing him one glass, and then you led him to the little futon propped up into a sofa near a loved coffee table.

A few candles burned, casting everything in flickered shadows. The place smelled of lavender and honey and smoky amber. 

“So,” you raised an eyebrow, sipping from your glass. You pulled your legs up to be crossed and tilted yourself to face him. “Tell me about this Carver guy.” 

Steve frowned, stretching an arm across the back of the couch to appear comfortable.

“Well, if it’s serious enough that Eddie’s got you staking out my apartment, I need to know who I’m up against.” You frowned, taking another sip from your glass, the legs spilling from your sweet lips and back into the liquid. 

Charity events attracted a diverse crowd, metal bands and church groups converging for the greater cause, their own positive PR. Knocked elbows at the start of the night often led to knockouts once the open bar started flowing. The mob made connections and burned bridges and somehow, the world kept turning.

One such event, Steve had eyes on Munson from across the room. The rockstar was flirting with some senator-to-be or another, a good friend of the Obamas, if he remembered correctly. Sinclair had eyes on the other band members at other tables. They all seemed happy, buzzed, low-key despite studded tuxedos.

Steve clocked the approach before Eddie had. A blonde man in a white suit caught sight and B-lined from near the stage.

Steve crossed to intercept him, stopping the young man with two fingers to his chest before he could get around the final linen-covered table. “Can I help you?”

The stranger’s face split in a menacing grin that sent chills down his spine. Never in his life had Steve felt something so cold. All his instincts went on high alert, fight or flight. One fist clenched at his side.

“I was just hoping for a little tête-á-tête with Mr. Munson,” the man gestured a hand out.

Steve dropped his hand, noticing the steel tie pin in the shape of a cross. “He’s busy at the moment, but let me take down your information, and we’ll see if we could find time for you at a later function.” 

“Are you his secretary or his babysitter?” Still with the grin, dead between the eyes.

“Why? You looking for a playdate?” Steve squared his shoulders, inches taller than the other man. 

“I’m just looking to ask one question.” 

“Shoot,” Eddie approached from behind Steve, shoulders squared in the same manner as his bodyguard. 

The other man tucked his hand into white jacket, and Steve stuck his hand in front of Eddie, just in case, until Carver retrieved his business card and handed it over. Sleek, white, with grey lettering.

Reverend Jason Carver

Faithful Servant of Christ

“Do you, Mr. Munson, take responsibility for casting yourself and all of your followers to the very depths of Hell to burn for an eternity?” 

Steve didn’t take his eyes off of Carver, but he could feel Eddie’s grin growing beside him. 

“You’re damn right I do.”

Carver seemed just as pleased with this answer as the rockstar had been. He nodded, an odd twinkle in his eye, and said, “Thank you so much, Mr. Munson. I hope you and your hell hound have a lovely evening.” 

That was the one and only time Steve had met the man, and he’ll never forget the weight of his presence. 

You’d set your wine glass on the coffee table beside his, and you were curled closer now, frown creasing your sweet brow. “And then he burned that place down in Milwaukee?” 

Steve sighed, playing with a loose thread on the futon, fingertips dangerously close to your shoulder. He wished he could sweep your hair back, kiss the crease from your forehead, reassure you he wouldn’t let anything happen to you. 

“Well, first, he had all of the funding pulled from that almost-senator, set her up for public exposure, basically ruined her entire life. When asked to comment, he said ‘jezebels and harlots get what they deserve’. Fucking asshole.” Steve scoffed.

There was a far-off look in your eye, like you were considering the weight of those words when compared to you.

Without a second thought, Steve brushed his knuckles against your cheek, pulling your focus back to him. “Hey, you know I’ll never let anyone hurt you, right?”

You surprised him by leaning into his touch, nodding. You released a shaky laugh, your voice caught in your throat. “I was really trying to be brave.”

Steve smiled, and opened his mouth to tell you you were, to tell you you were beautiful, to tell you he’s been in love with you from the moment he met you because you were all of those things.

Your phone began ringing, loud and incessant, a vibration from the coffee table that lit up the room with a photo of Eddie’s face. 

You ducked away from Steve’s touch and patted at warmed cheeks, reaching for your phone. “I should probably get this.”

Steve nodded, cleared his throat, reached forward to take a long swig of alcohol. It went down dry. 

“I actually think I’ll go to bed.” You silenced your phone and stood up, backing slowly from the living room. “You don’t mind the futon, right? Here are some extra blankets and a pillow.” You gestured toward a little wicker basket beside the sofa. “Use whatever you’d like in the bathroom.”

Steve stood to mirror you, hoping his smile seemed more reassuring than he felt. “Sleep tight. If you need anything…”

You nodded, smiled. “Thank you. Goodnight, Steve.”

“Night.” 

Halfway down the hallway, you answered your phone, sweet nothings murmured for someone else.

---

Moodboard • Fic Masterlist • Part Two

[A/N: So yeah, this just kind of... came out of me. It's been cooking since February, but I've sat down like three times over the last week and spewed out 10k. And I got too excited to wait to post it, so here you are. Please give me all your thoughts and feelings. Is bodyguard!Steve my new favorite Steve? Is rockstar!Eddie my new favorite Eddie? Maybe so. xoxoxo]

[bettyfrommars]

Handcuffs & Crab Rangoon

(also known as How I Met Your Mother)

playgirl!Eddie x Reader

By Request! From this ask, directly inspired by this delicious artwork by @sporelium (run don't walk if you haven't seen it yet) but also inspired by the 1995 Peter Steele Playgirl cover. Peter notoriously kept his joystick hard for most of the 6-7 hour shoot because he thought readers of the magazine would enjoy it more than if it were flaccid (I'm fine either way, but damn, thanks baby). wc: 4.3k

18+Only, mature content, smut, rockstar!Eddie, oral (f receiving), protected p in v, reader wears overalls, pet names, fingering, mention of Eddie's scars, accidental edging, sex on the job, sneaky sex, she/her is used once, no y/n, reader is a tough cookie, but Eddie is magic. It is the mid-90's.

Playgirl!eddie afterthoughts

---------

You’d been helping out a photographer for risqué magazine shoots as an assistant for almost 5 months now.  It was the fourth job you had just to keep yourself afloat while trying to live an independent life in LA. To make it in show business you had to be extremely talented, drop dead gorgeous, backed by generational wealth, or just plain lucky, and you were none of those.  So, you broke your back to make ends meet while taking night classes and working on the script you were writing with two other friends.

The studio loft on the second floor was an expansive space with windows overlooking the industrial district all along the wall.  Sasha, the photographer, stood adjusting her camera on the tripod, while the makeup artist touched up the rockstar you were working with that day, and Need You Tonight by INXS played low from the radio on a nearby shelf.  

You saw him from the back first; long, dark wavy hair hanging down over the white robe he wore to protect his modesty for the time being.  You noticed that his hands were strong and calloused as they hung at his sides.  June, the makeup artist, was on a step stool to blot his nose with powder and fix the crown of his hair.  

June saw you coming and introduced you, causing Eddie to turn on his heel, tightening the sash on his robe as he did.

You sucked in your bottom lip to hold back a whimper at the zing you felt when his warm hazelnut eyes met yours.  His full, soft lips parted in greeting, a long strand from his bangs bouncing on his eyelash, his gaze rolling over you from head to foot indulgently.

Of course, you’d heard of rock star Eddie Munson from Corroded Coffin. At one of your other jobs, a girl you worked with had his magazine cutouts taped to the inside of her locker.  Last year, he was Cher’s date to the Grammys.  He was getting ready to go on tour, and procuring tickets was all any of your friends could talk about.

But, goddamn, he was much better looking in person than any tabloid or tv show could've ever prepared you for, and the chemistry vibrating in the space between the two of you was palpable.  

“Eddie…Munson, you say?” You squinted, as if you were trying to place him, like the name sounded familiar but you didn’t know why while June fixed the back of his hair. “Football player, right?”

The tip of his tongue sipped out to wet his lips, curling one side of his mouth up in a half grin.  “I love a girl who knows her sports.”

There were a few loaded seconds there when the two of you just sank into a sexually charged stare-down, both unwilling to budge.  

Sasha called your name, snapping you out of it.  She came over to let Eddie know what your role was, and encouraged him to let you know if there was anything you could do to help him relax.  She finished explaining a few things to him while you brought over a glass of lemon water.  

Sasha walked away and he took a sip, keeping his eyes on you over the glass, smirking.

“What?” you mirrored the smirk.  “This will be such an easy job for me because I know you rockstars don’t have any problem taking your cocks out and being admired in public.”

“Oh, you know me, huh?” He challenged.

You worked your jaw, pussy clenching, wondering what he looked like out of his robe.  “You’re all the same, aren’t you? Arrogant, over-sexed, and too pretty for your own good.”

“Well, you got me on the pretty part,” he winked.  “But nah, I’m not a rockstar.  I’m just a small-town freak who got lucky and, this has all been fucking overwhelming to tell you the truth.”  Eddie was tall, with broad shoulders, and your mouth dried up a little at the tattoos on his forearms that peeked out from under the sleeve of the robe.

You took the glass from him when he was finished.  “We have the small town thing in common, at least,” you said with an incline of your head.

It was time to get started, but even as Sasha motioned him over, he paused next to you, so close that the ends of his hair grazed your shoulder.  “So, if I can’t get relaxed on my own, then that means you have to help me?”  He whispered it, but forcefully, so you could feel his warm breath on the side of your head.  You could smell the mix of spearmint and tobacco.

Keeping your eyes straight ahead, you swallowed hard as the woodsy spice of his scent hit your nostrils.  “I’ll do my best for you, Mr. Munson,” and then you dared to glance up, your breath hitching as he unfastened his robe and lowered it from his shoulders right in front of you, only a few feet away.  

You tried not to show emotion because you knew he was watching, but you closed your mouth to keep a yearning mew from escaping.  There were tattoos scattered around his defined muscles, but there were also fascinating scars like floral blooms along his neck, chest, and stomach. Your eyes ached to travel down to the V-shape that cut into his hips and the treasure below, but you refused to give him the satisfaction.  Not yet anyway.

You were just about to tell him he could keep the robe on until he was comfortable, but he threw the article of clothing over for you to catch.  “I’m ready as I’ll ever be.”

Half of the people Sasha photographed were too shy to take the robe off right away, and maybe Eddie would have hesitated in other circumstances, but you had a strange feeling he was doing this for you.  If Sasha wasn’t asking him to look at the camera, his eyes were always banking in your direction.  

“I think we should try the handcuffs,” Sasha said to the room, but mostly to you.  

You made your way over to where the props were, knowing that Eddie’s eyes were keeping pace, and playfully dangled the silver cuffs from your thumb and forefinger as you retrurned, wiggling your eyebrows; a gesture he was happy to return. 

“Front or behind?” You asked Sasha.

“Behind for now,” she answered.  “You okay with that Mr. Munson?”

“My god,” he chuckled, putting his hands behind his back for you to have easy access to the tender skin of his wrists.  “Call me anything but Mr. Munson.  Eddie is fine.”

You always tried to keep things very professional, but not only that—you’d been around so many naked bodies, they all started to look the same to you.  This was your job, and mostly it never even occurred to you to see the models in a lustful way..  You never let your eyes hover too long on the private parts of your clients; maybe just a glance and that was it.  But the job of fastening Eddie’s handcuffs had you taking in the firm structure of his ass like it was a visual last meal.  

You stroked your finger a few times in his palm.  “Is that too tight?” 

The combination of your touch and the way you whispered gave him chills in the best way possible and his fingers flexed, as if trying to reach out for you.  “I hope you have a key for these things,” he mumbled.

“I do,” you assured him.  “But I’m about to swallow it.”

“Hey,” he hushed over his shoulder before you could walk away.  “Should my dick be hard for this?”

You wanted to kiss his arm, you wanted to bite it.  Instead, you put your hands together and intertwined your fingers.  “Do you want it to be?”

Eddie lowered his chin, voice barely audible.  “Are you offering to help, sweetheart?

Sasha took a few more photos as he was, standing to the side, eyes flicking to where you stood behind Sasha’s shoulder.  When it was time for you to take the handcuffs off, Eddie stretched his hands, turning to face front. “No chick wants to look at a flaccid dick when they buy magazines like this,” he announced.  “Give me a second to…get ready? If you know what I mean?”

While Sasha and June went out for a smoke break, Eddie put his robe on, and headed for his private dressing room, but he paused in the door and turned to find you. His eyebrows popped up a few times,  motioned with his hand down low for you to follow him in.  You knew  you could lose your job for fornicating with Eddie during a photo shoot, but at that moment, you couldn’t have cared less.

Once you were in, Eddie closed the door and leaned back against it, his robe falling open.  He clutched a fist into the front of your overalls, pulling you closer.  Your fingertips feathered down the ridges of his scars, thumb caressing over his missing nipple, and he jutted his head forward to meet your mouth, but you were too fast, dropping to your knees to taste his cock, taking your job and his request a bit too seriously.  

“Wait,” Eddie sank his hand around your throat, guiding you back up to full height.  “Kiss me first,” he swiped the tip of his tongue across his bottom lip.  “And then you can kill me.”

While the tiny person in charge of your brain ran around inside your skull screaming, your  lips met his, tips of tongues introducing each other first, and then echoed moans, opening wide to take each other deeper.

“I know what will get me hard,” he told you in a breathy rush.  “Take these off,” he motioned to the overalls you were wearing.  “And sit on the counter.”

He walked forward so that you would back up, his hands supporting your waist.

You looked back at the counter top. “But we don’t have much time to—” 

“I don’t need much time,” he said, swatting a stool out of his way so it crashed to the ground.  “I want you in my mouth.”

You shivered and obeyed, unhooking your overalls, letting them fall to the floor.  You were in nothing but a tank top now, ass on the cool edge of the Formica, and he pulled your underwear down your legs, salivating and biting his lip as he did so. 

 “Fuuuuck, you are so wet,” He pushed your knees wider with his strong arms and sank his tongue into your glistening folds, flicking the nub a few times.  “Did you get this wet just for me? Hmmm?”

“Yes Eddie,” you whimpered, bracing yourself on the beige counter next to the vanity, watching him drag his chin all the way up your slit, and then pull and twist his tongue down, darting it into your hole.  His eyes met yours again, his mouth latching onto your sweet spot and sucking there.  You wrapped your legs over his shoulders and sunk your heels into his back.

His fingers dug into the meat at your hips, his mouth diving deeper, sucking in while his tongue flicked. He reached a hand down between his legs and started stroking himself, getting more and more turned at the way you were gasping and twitching.

You grabbed the top of his head.  “Fuckkk Eddie fuck just like that.”

His eyes were closed now while he devoured you, but the look on his face spoke of how seriously he took the task, rolling his tongue and working you in a way that made your eyelids flutter and a choke catch in your throat.

But then there came a knock at the door.  

It was Sasha, and thank god she didn’t try the doorknob because you hadn’t locked it in your frenzy to get on Eddie’s joystick.  . 

“Coming!” You shouted nervously, dropping to your feet, stepping into your underwear and then your overalls.  

Eddie sucked in his bottom lip, licking what was left of you from his mouth.  He caught your elbow as you were fastening the second clip.  “Can we finish this later?”

The way he asked it was almost shy, as if his face hadn’t just been between your thighs.  Meanwhile, your engorged pussy was soaking your underwear, begging to be finished.  You saw that his chin was still wet from your arousal and whisked some of it away with your thumb.

He bent to let his lips graze at your ear as he closed his robe. “I like the way you taste.”

Back out on the floor, you let Sasha know that Eddie was talking your ear off about something, but that he would be out any second.  Sasha and June exchanged a look, mostly in regards to the way the straps of your overalls were all twisted and buttoned wrong, but neither one of them addressed it.

When Eddie came out and took his robe off again, he was hard, rolling his big hand around the head a few more times as he got on the prop bed that was there for the next set.  There was a model named Cindy in lingerie there to be in the shots with him, and you felt a jealousy rise in you that didn’t make any sense.  It rose so hot in your gut while their mouths hovered inches apart, pretending they were about to kiss, that you had to look away.  Every so often, he’d glance over at you while he had his cock in his hand, determined to keep the beast hard, and you wondered if he was thinking about having his tongue inside of you.

Because, you were definitely thinking about it.  You took a little private time around the corner just to touch yourself through your denim, working your fingers at your core, wondering if you should just finish yourself off and be done with it just as Sasha finally called for another smoke break.

You tried not to be too obvious, casually strolling back to Eddie’s dressing room, making sure the model Cindy was comfortable and fetching her the sparkling water she asked for while Love Bites by Judas Priest played on the radio.

Eddie was already in there waiting, yanking you inside by the wrist so he could lock the door, planting hot, hungry kisses down along your neck. 

You dropped your overalls like they were on fire, caressing his hard length in a way that made him moan. “I need you so fucking bad,” you breathed, pulling your tank top up and over your head so that you could be flush with his skin, to feel the ridges of his scars.  “That last set was almost two hours,” you were still talking as he backed you further into the room.  “How is your cock still hard?”

His fingers slipped down through your folds and he hissed at the way you were dripping.  “Just the thought of this, sweetheart.”

There was a floral couch against the wall and when your calves met with it, you plopped down into the cushion and Eddie followed, knees to the wood floor, wrapping his arm around your thighs to take your sweet bud into his mouth again, teasing it with his nose first.

“Fuck fuck Eddie, I’m already so close,” you took a fistful of his beautiful hair, careful not to mess it up too bad and bucked against his mouth.  “You’re so good, I love it when your tongue fucks me.”

Your hole was clenching around nothing, needing more, and that was when two of his fingers slid in, the ones with the chunky metal rings, they stretched you out suddenly, making you curse with pleasure.  Eddie zig-zagged his tongue rapid fire over  your clit, groaning at the way your hole gripped his fingers.  His cock was leaking pre-cum and he thrust his hips into the couch as he felt your walls begin to ripple.

“Fuck Eddie, you’re gonna make me cum…so hard….” the orgasm seemed to snap your body in two, pulsing a waves of pleasure up your spine, making your mouth freeze open on a sharp inhale.  And then you were babbling, “cummincumming so hard, Eddie!”

“Turn over,” he demanded in a deep voice once you were able to catch your breath.  “I need to clean you up.”.

And so you got on your knees facing the wall and held onto the back of the couch, trembling at the way he spread your cheeks and lapped you up all along your drenched slit.

“We’re ready if you are!” Sasha called from out in the studio making you spin around.

“Oh shit,” you breathed, looking down at how swollen and ready his cock was.  “I can’t leave you like this.”

“I can wait, sweetheart,” he mumbled, standing to pull his robe back on and offer you his hand, tossing his hair back over his shoulder.

By the time the photo shoot was over, Eddie would’ve been edging his release for over 4 hours, and he didn’t seem phased at all about it.

It was time for the handcuffs again.  Eddie wanted a cigarette, and Sasha encouraged him to have it in a seat by the window and she’d get a few shots of him there.  He held his wrists close together in front of him while you secured the cool metal, his chocolate orbs fixed on your face.  He liked how your fingers quivered as you cuffed him, and his erection had finally softened enough to not be obnoxious, but it was still making your mouth dry up with desire.

He wanted to light the cigarette himself, so you passed him the lighter.  He spread his legs, hitching one heel up on the leg of the chair, exposing the patch of hair at the base of his cock and around his balls 

“That’s perfect,” Sasha told him, finger tapping on the shutter button, producing a blast of fast clicks..  

You glanced up at the clock, knowing your time with Eddie would be over soon.  Cindy the model could’ve gone home, but she’d decided to stay and wait to watch the rest of Eddie’s shoot, her eyes sparkling with lust.  Maybe she would be the one to get Eddie off and not you.  She was physically more what you assumed his “type” would be since, in your mind, all rock stars were the same.

You didn’t have to wonder for long which woman he’d rather fuck, because he was eyeballing you from across the room as he put his robe on and said a few last words to Sasha.  The dressing room door was hidden around the corner and down the hall, but you decided not to follow him straight in like you had the last two times; your carnal needs were making you sloppy.  This time, you went out into the stairwell to the back entrance and knocked, hoping he would get the hint because it only opened from the inside.  Eddie pushed it open with a hard metal clank, and then your hands were in his hair, and wordlessly the two of you fell into each other.  He was doing the work of unfastening your overalls while you were coherent enough to ask about condoms and he presented a string of them out of the pocket of his robe.

“You came prepared,” you stumbled over your clothes, yanking your shirt off as you went.

“Nah,” Eddie cocked his head.  “I had my gofer bring me these.  The guy is quick.” 

“How do you want me?” You kissed down his chest, flicking his one salty nipple with your tongue, making him groan.

He ripped one of the condoms off the pack and tore it open with his teeth, and then spat the paper edge out.  “I need to be able to see your face,” he crashed his nose against yours diving in for another kiss.

“Sit,” you told him, urging him back into the wooden chair in the corner of the room.  It was right next to a full length mirror so he could watch you fuck him from the side if he wanted to. There were no arms on the chair, and he complied, licking his lips, eager for whatever you had in mind while he rolled the condom on.

You kicked  your leg over him like you were mounting your motorcycle and sat your hungry, soaking hole down on the tip of his cock.  Eddie took hold of your hips and guided you down, releasing one long moan as you went.  You whined, coming down flush with his lap, his cock stretching you out in a way no one ever had before, settling yourself first before you began to move.  You pushed up from the balls of your feet, riding him, and Eddie clamped a hand onto each of your ass cheeks, creating a rhythm, using his strong arms to help lift and lower you.

Your foreheads came together as you moved, hard nipples grazing his chest. You watched him grit his teeth and gasp.  “Damn, you’re so tight.  I’m close, I’m so fucking…close,” he bit out.  

Your clit rubbed against his patch of hair as you worked, and it wasn’t long before you began to hiccup with the contraction of your own release.  Never in your life had you cum this soon and this close together.  “You’re gonna make me cum again, oh my god.”

“Yeah?” He pulled his head back.  “Look at me.”

You met his eyes as you bounced, his hips snapping up to meet you every time you bottomed out.

“Yes,” you said breathlessly, finding the yearning in his stare too much to handle.  “Like, right now, right…fuck, Eddie I’m cumming!” Your head dropped to his shoulder while the tremors rolled through you, walls squeezing his cock, making his toes curl and his hips jerk erratically, the chair legs squeaking from his weight.

He held you flush to him, his release hot and plentiful; so much so, he might’ve worried about the integrity of the condom if he hadn’t been so pussy drunk on the way your hole was still clenching him like a fist.  You locked your chest to his and he caged you with his arms, locking you there.

Your knees threatened to turn to butter and betray you as you dismounted the ride of your life, both of you finding the footing to scramble around and retrieve your clothes. Eddie could stay in the dressing room as long as he wanted, but you? You were only a shell of the employee you normally were that day and you feared that Sasha was probably coming to look for you at that moment, ready to tell you to take a hike.

Eddie pulled his shirt down over his head, adjusting it over his jeans and flipped his hair from out of the collar. You snapped the first buckle on your overalls and gave him a tilt of your head. “Hey stranger, I almost didn’t recognize you with clothes on,” and then you fixed yourself in the mirror quickly before planting one more kiss on him on your way to bolt for the door.

“Hey, wait,” he called out, making you turn around. “Is that it? This is goodbye?”

Eddie Munson was a beautiful rockstar. Eddie Munson was in music videos on MTV. Eddie Munson could have any woman he wanted in the world, single or taken, and so no---you hadn’t expected more to come from this. You thought maybe he had a new fuck for every day of the week and you just happened to fall into his lap at the right time when he was bored and had some time to kill.

“Did you need anything else?” You asked it in your professional assistant voice, your work voice, and put your hands in your pockets to patiently wait.

He sat down on the couch to put his Converse on, absorbed in his task as he spoke to you. “My hotel is just up the street. Are you busy tonight? We could have dinner. Anything you want, my guys will get it for us.”

“I’m busy tonight,” you lied.

“What about tomorrow?” He pushed, tying the next shoe. “I wanna hear more about this small town you grew up in. I’ve really been missing home lately.”

You softened. “I refuse to believe you are anything but a spoiled city boy.”

He stood to his full height, stretching his chest, and hooked his thumbs into his belt loops, giving you a shrug and a familiar smirk. “Just think about all the ways I could prove you wrong if you came to hang out with me tonight. I might even surprise you.”

You got all awkward for a bit, fighting with yourself over why you weren’t on your knees begging for this man. Regardless of your silence, he found an old receipt for a tin of mini mart pretzels in his pocket and wrote his room number and hotel on it.

Passing it to you pinched between his two fingers, he added without meeting your gaze, “I’d really like to see you again.”

But then Sasha was calling for you, needing help with equipment, and you were scurrying out of the room with your heart in your throat.

You paused with your hand on the doorknob. “Crab Rangoon?”

Eddie scoffed. “What did you call me?” He was jutting his arms up into the sleeves of his leather jacket when you favored him a glance over you shoulder.

You swiveled to face him and made a circular gesture with your hand as if the implication was universally understood. “If there happens to be some crab Rangoon at your hotel tonight, I will stop by.”

Eddie’s face was blank, totally unreadable for a few seconds, and then a smile teased at the corners of his mouth, crept across his face, and jumped to his eyes. He gave a nod, “crab Rangoon it is then.”

---------

[luveline]

lovely jade!!! may i request an 𝐢 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐚 𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐞 + 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭! with rockstar!eddie? something like, maybe he went too far with his insults publicly and he notices how the reader went quiet and just decided to ignore him because it hurt them too much?? thank u ily <333

join luveline's halloween party ♡

tysm for ur lovely request my angel ily ♡ rockstar!eddie x fem!reader

Eddie is a really pretty guy. He has these huge brown eyes made impossibly bigger by his makeup, his dark kohl-liner and his glitter, his barely-there lip gloss. On stage his costuming is fit to match, messy and dark and bold. You love how he looks, though you'd rather die than tell him, which might be why his insult hurts so badly.

You're not sure you're even meant to see it. Somebody asked him about it while you were on the opposite end of the country, weeks since the last time you saw him in person. It's a video of Eddie outside of the Los Angeles Morgan Centre, an extremely big, ridiculously prestigious venue to play for. He's not as popular as his band's frontman but he has his own crowd of dedicated and over-eager groupies at each event, and he spends a stupid amount of time fanning his own ego outside prancing around for them.

In the video, he's signing a photograph of himself. He's a dick, but you won't deny how nice he is to his fans. "What was that?" he asks the cameraperson with a glitzy smile. "I can't hear a word you're saying, babe."

"What did you think of Y/N's outfit at the Mallball Festival last week?"

"Can't say I saw it."

Somebody very helpfully provides digital evidence. You watch his expression turn impassive upon presentation. He gives a derisive little snort.

"Well, wasn't that brave?" he coos.

The girls around him all laugh. Maybe that's the worst part. His insults, niche, subtle things in person, less subtle via interviews, they've never mattered to you because, although you don't really like each other, you'd at least thought you'd garnered his respect. You're good at what you do, you're just as good on the guitar as he is, and you bring something new to the scene as he had when he started out. You'd even convinced yourself that your feuding was an outlet for a mutual jealousy.

But to hear him make a throwaway comment like that, to be the butt of one of his jokes, it hadn't felt directed at you. Honestly, you'd felt like he put you beneath him.

You don't use your computer for weeks. You play the best that you have in years, city-hopping, gigs blending into one another. You shove your stupid black skirt to the bottom of your suitcase and try not to break out in hives whenever you see it. Wasn't that brave?

His condescension follows you on stage every night. You hate how much power you give him. You really start to hate him, and you really start to hate yourself for letting him get to you.

Your tour takes you all the way to New York where Corroded Coffin, Eddie's band, had finished their own tour a month ago and are now lavishing in celeb dens across the city in a splurge the media are calling their 'victory tour'. And Eddie does look victorious, though he always looks that way when he sees you.

"Oh, Y/N darling," he drawls, arm thrown over the back of a couch five times as long as him, a pretty girl underneath it. Your blood hammers in your ears at the sight. "I was wondering when we'd be reunited."

You don't meet his eye. You make no indication that you've seen his smug, awful face or his smarmy, lilting voice. You skirt around a small herd of people behind the couch and head into the kitchen, a huge space made up of marble and glass. Fucking celebrities, you think scornfully. All this money and they spend it making their homes look like science labs.

Lucky you, there's an open bar with an actual bartender behind it. You ask him for something sweet and wonder if you should leave now. All the fun feels like it's been sucked out of the room. You're in no mood to party.

Eddie finds you again soon enough, a maraschino cherry between your lips.

He stops dead in front of you, face twitched up like he's smelling something he doesn't like.

You pop it out of your mouth without eating it and turn back to the bar, dropping it into your empty glass. Appetite gone.

"You drink like you play."

You drag your finger across the sugar-encrusted rim of your glass and wait for him to finish.

"C'mon, Princess. Indulge me. I'm trying to tell a joke." He folds himself into the space beside you, arm braced on the countertop. You can feel his gaze on your cheek. "You drink like you play."

"How's that?" you murmur.

"Like a freshman in college."

It's pretty lackluster, considering.

"What, no biting reply?" he asks.

He's stressing you out. You'd imagined your meeting again a hundred times since that stupid fucking video, how you'd chew him out. How you'd tell him to go fuck himself. You even imagined slapping him across the face once, but that hadn't felt right. You don't want to hit him, you want him to leave you alone.

"Babe-"

He stops as you loll your head onto your shoulder and look at him. You make your eyes as soft and sweet as you can, eyebrows pinched up at the starts, a doe-eyed, imploring gaze with the tiniest hint of a frown.

Eddie looks surprised. It's nice, to have caught him off-guard.

"I don't wanna talk to you," you say. Not pleading but close. "So just... leave me alone, okay?"

"You don't wanna talk to me."

"No." Your eyes get stuck on his glitter. White and shiny, smeared over each eye totally uncaring. You'd hoped to find something else to say and come up blank because you're really not bluffing. You don't wanna talk to him.

"I wanna talk to you," he says, sounding startled.

Your heart races but you cling to your exterior facade of calm. "You don't."

"Yeah, I do," he says with a rough laugh.

"You don't wanna talk to me, you want-" You look away from him, fighting to find a way to leave, an excuse. "You wanna make fun of me," you mutter.

There, across the room, your bandmate meets your eye and gives you a concerned frown. She waves you over.

"I gotta go," you say.

Eddie catches your arm before you can, thick fingers braceleting the skin above your wrist, the metal of his heavy rings smooth to his string-wrought calluses. You look down between your two bodies at his pale hand against your skin and huff expectantly.

He drops it immediately, and he says what you're not expecting, "I'm sorry."

Eddie doesn't say sorry. Not to you.

"It's okay," you say on impulse, pulling your arm away from his open hand.

"No, it's- it's not. I'm grabbing you and you don't wanna speak to me, and that's not fair."

Humility and regret are a good look on him. You can't believe he's actually apologising for something. He sounds cut up, his thick brows furrowing over creased eyes.

"You can leave," he says, and then winces, "you always could, obviously, but- I mean, I won't stop you this time."

You've taken a step away from him that feels very righteous when your need to know talks over any self-preservation or dignity, turning back to him with lips already parted to talk.

"What did you mean, when you said it was brave?"

His eyes widen. "Come again?"

"You said my outfit, my clothes at the Mallball, you said, 'Well, wasn't that brave?'" Your voice betrays your hurt. "What did you mean by that?"

"This is about your skirt?" he asks incredulously.

Whatever, you think. Whatever. If he's determined to be a dick for the rest of his life then that's his problem. You glare at him and start to walk away. Eddie follows behind, though he doesn't grab you again.

"You're mad about that? That was weeks ago."

You ignore him. God damn this house for being so grossly huge.

"That's why you won't talk to me?"

You speed up. He matches, and then he's swinging in front of you.

"That's why you wont talk to me, because of a throwaway comment I said eons ago?"

"We don't talk, Eddie. This isn't talking. Whenever we see each other we argue, or we hit below the belt, or we just plain bicker like kids. And I," — your voice hikes up with insecurity, "thought that was our thing. You don't have to like everybody and I dont like you, you're gross and you're rude and you think you're better than everybody, but we- but you-" You look at his shoulder rather than his angry face, embarrassment a cold splash. "You're mean, Eddie."

"You can be pretty fucking mean too, sweetheart, I don't know if you forgot."

You swallow. He's right; it was the wrong stone to throw. You and Eddie have always been cruel to one another on that sub-surface level, always getting a little too close to bone. It's not his fault you couldn't take it this time, and-

"But I'm sorry for hurting your feelings."

You look up. He's mad still, his pretty mouth set in a line.

"I don't say any of that shit to hurt you."

You get what he means; you don't poke fun at him through the tabloids or bitch at him outside of award show bathrooms because you want to ruin his day. You do it because you want to win.

"I actually liked the skirt," he continues at your silence, hand raking through his hair. "I thought it was hot."

"Keep it in your pants, Munson," you deadpan.

He laughs and it's different to his usual mocking chuckle — this sound is all him, messy and loud like he can't have kept it in if he tried. "It was!" he defends himself. "You usually dress like such a prude, it was nice to see some goddamn skin for once. You have good legs, sweetheart, you should share 'em with the masses. God knows-"

"What?" you ask sharply, having guessed what he's going to imply. That your fanbase has been accumulated using sex sells and party tricks.

He smirks. "God knows your little followers appreciate it."

"What does that make you?"

He holds your gaze as he answers, each word said clearly, meticulously, "What do you think?" Eddie leans forward. "We can make a deal, if you like." His breath kisses your ear. "You promise to wear that tiny pleated number again and I'll tell you how I really feel."

"You already told me how you felt about it."

Shivers race down your spine as he laughs darkly. "I told you I liked it. I didn't say how much."

[syddsatyrn]

Chapter 1⛤Chapter 2 ⛤ Chapter 3 ⛤Chapter 4 ⛤ Chapter 5 Masterlist

⛤Pairing: - Eddie Munson x FemReader

⛤Warnings: Swearing, drinking / smoking, drugs, fluff, friends to lovers, kissing, a little angst if you squint.

⛤Words: 2.7k

⛤Song: "Photograph" By Def Leppard

⛤Summary: Moving away from Hawkins was the biggest mistake of your life. You left your best friends and forgot to stay in touch. Years later, you decide to hit up your good friend Steve. Its time to make a plan and make amends. The one thing you didn't expect was feelings to resurface when you saw your old high school crush.

⛤Notes: This series is 18+ Minors scram. I've got a super extra long chapter for you guys today! @hellfiremunsonn is my faithful beta reader and assists me so much. Thank you guys for making my come-back series a fun one. My next chapter will be the end of this series.

⛤Chapter: 4 "Subtle" Chemistry Star court mall is always at least a little crowded. The lively hum of conversations, laughter, and distant music formed a vibrant backdrop. Storefronts beckoned with their displays of trendy fashion, electronics, and enticing sales. Shoppers meandered through the wide walkways, their bags filled with many treasures. Neon signs buzzing, the occasional sounds of a cash register, and the scent of cinnamon drifting through the air. It was just like you remembered it. You had a blast hanging out with Robin. She picked out a brand new pair of ankle length combat boots. You both decided to get ice cream and take a break from walking around. The food court wasn’t super crowded, it was the perfect place to chat. “Can I tell you something? It’s a secret so dont go telling Steve.” “Ohhhh is it secret time?” I won't tell Stevie boy, I promise.” Robin raises her right hand, “Scouts honor.” “Okay. Uhhh…well…I slept in Eddie’s bed last night. He came home from tour in the middle of the night.” Your face turns redder with every word. “Oh shit. Wow Y/N, I didn't think you had it in yah.” She chuckles and puts another spoonful of strawberry ice cream in her mouth. “We didn't do anything!” You affirm your tone a little on the defensive side. “What!? I’m just saying you guys have been madly in love with each other since sophomore year and neither of you have had the audacity to tell each other for some unspoken reason…until now.” She's not wrong, Robin has always been one to spell it out for you loud and clear. She never holds back, it's something you’ve always appreciated about her. Robin has been telling you to come clean for ages now.

“Look, I’m not saying you’re wrong, but I don't want to screw up my friendship with Eddie. Also, he's like a big rockstar now, I doubt he has any time for stuff like that.” You explain as you sink into your chair. "He probably has some cool metalhead girlfriend I don't know about.” You take a bite of your vanilla ice cream. It's so fitting for this conversation, vanilla ice cream for a vanilla person.

“God it's been years and I still can’t wrap my head around your stupid self doubt.” Robin says, shaking her head. “Eddie doesn't have a girlfriend. When you left he moped around his trailer for weeks. No one could get him to come out, not even Dustin. One time I went over to his place to check on him and he was sloshed out of his mind. He told me, "The songs he sings don't mean a thing if you’re not there to hear it.”

“He didn't say that.” You scoff.

“Oh but he did, and he keeps a photo of you in his wallet.” Robin says teasingly.

“You know about that too?!” It's becoming apparent that everyone knows this except you.

“Of course I do. It's me, I know everything.” Robin says with a cocky tone.

You and Robin decide to float around the mall a little longer. A small department store was calling your name. The story had low lighting and they were playing some classic rock on the radio. Robin's goal was a pair of shoes, your goal however, was a hot outfit for tonight's party at the hideout. It honestly didn't take you long to find the cutest black skirt with chain embellishments, you picked out some new stockings too. —-------------- After the girls left Eddie felt like he could finally breathe. He finishes his coffee and breakfast, then falls backwards onto his bed. He stares at his ceiling as he finds himself lost in the intricate dance of thoughts that revolve around you. Images of you smiling genuine and heartwarming, flashed like snapshots in his imagination. Casual conversations, stolen glances, and the subtle chemistry that lingered in the air when you were near. The anticipation of his next encounter with you and the sweet nervousness that comes with it. The soft glow of the afternoon sun is casting a warm hue across his room. Steve and Dustin went grocery shopping, the apartment was silent. Eddie pulls himself out of his thoughts and shakes them off. He grabs a pre-rolled joint and lights it, Eddie is nervous and he knows it. All these years and he still can't tell you the truth. His life has changed so drastically for the better ever since he signed that record deal. But there was always something missing, something he was holding out for. Of course many girls are interested in him, but he's not interested in many girls. He promised himself after you left that next time he sees you, he is gonna tell you. If he misses this opportunity, he might lose you entirely. He almost completely gave up on you after a year of no contact. But every time he opened his wallet, he saw a glimpse of your face, he couldn't bring himself to get rid of you or the photo. Eddie puffs on his joint, each inhale making him a little less anxious. He tries to think about something else. It will be nice to hang out at the hideout again. That was where he played his very first gigs when the band was just starting out. They barely had any attendees and the band definitely sounded rough. Then Eddie recalls you being there for every single show. Your smiling face in the crowd, cheering him on after every song.  “Uhgg, get it together, man.” He says under his breath. He finishes his joint and decides to get dressed. —--------------- When you returned with Robin, Steve was putting away the last of the groceries. “We’re back!” Robin announces. Dustin is reading on the couch, when you look down the hall, Eddie’s bedroom door is open. “Welcome back, we will head to the bar when I finish this. I also need to get dressed. Eddie is out, said something about dropping off some equipment with Gareth. He’s gonna meet us there.” Steve says. Honestly, you were a little bummed. You were hoping he’d be around when you got back. But you shrug it off and take your stuff to his room. Robin follows you and shuts the door behind her. You both change into something a bit more stylish. You had a cropped Def Leppard shirt that you paired with the new skirt. This outfit would go well with boots and stockings. Robin didn't change anything really, just her shirt and shoes. You put on a couple of layered chain necklaces, a few rings, and a pair of small silver hoop earrings. “I am astonished really.” Robin says with a smile as she looks you up and down. You tilt your head in response and she laughs. “Eddie is gonna have a full on heart attack when he sees you.” Your face feels a little hot and you laugh nervously. “Do you think so?” “Oh yeah. No doubt.” She smirks. “Someones lookin’ to get lucky.” “Shut up!” You place your hand over her mouth. She does the unthinkable licks the palm of your hand. You give her this horrified face followed by both of you hysterically laughing like a couple of hyenas.  ---------------

The sun was setting and the sky grew darker with every passing minute. There is a chill in the air, which makes you shiver when you open the door. Steve drove to the hideout, it wasn’t far, maybe ten minutes away. When Steve pulled into the parking lot, you looked out the window and saw Eddie’s van. He’s already here, and you start to feel a bit anxious. The Hideout had not changed a bit. The neon signs in the window buzzed as you walked inside. Posters, fliers, and rustic decor filled the walls. You hear the low hum of chatter and the clinking of glasses, the place has a warm glow to it. You used to watch Eddie play here all the time. It felt like your heart was swelling, it's that bittersweet feeling again. You turn the corner and see Eddie and Gareth sitting in a booth. Eddie waves and one by one you all walk over and pile into the same booth. You sit across from Eddie, you can see his face getting a little red. “You uh…look really good, Y/N.” Eddie says with a half smile. He reaches over and adjusts one of your chain necklaces. Robin sees this and covers her mouth, trying not to laugh at how embarrassed you are. But you had to pull all that on hold for now. Nancy and Johnathan walk up and greet the group. You practically climb over Robin and wrap Nancy in a tight hug. “Oh! Y/N? You’re here?! When did you get into town?!” She hugs you back just as hard. “The other day! It's so good to see you, Nance.” Nancy smiles and fights back tears, she didn't expect any kind of reunion. The thing is, You both grew up together. Your mom was friends with Mrs. Wheeler. You spent a lot of your childhood with Nancy and her brother Mike. When you left, Nancy thought she lost you to the city for good.  “Don’t cry! I’m sorry I’ve been gone for so long.” “They are happy tears, it’s fine. I’m just so happy to see you.” Everyone in the group is touched to see two best friends reunite. Robin looks like she might start crying too. You give Jonathan a hug as well, It's nice to see him doing well. He wasn't always full of smiles and you’ve wondered how he's been over the years. You remember Jonathan used to take photos of the gang, half of the polaroids you have were probably taken by him. A bartender comes by and takes our order. Eddie ordered whiskey and so did you. Vodka soda for Nancy and Robin, Steve and Jonathan order beers. The clinking of glasses, the occasional burst of laughter, and the subtle hum of the other patrons deep in conversation created a soundtrack to this shared experience. You updated your friends on your new life, and once again apologized for being an awful friend. Everyone was so happy to see you that it didn't matter anymore.  “You better not leave and go back to ignoring us.” Robin says. --------------------

The sun was setting and the sky grew darker with every passing minute. There is a chill in the air, which makes you shiver when you open the door. Steve drove to the hideout, it wasn’t far, maybe ten minutes away. When Steve pulled into the parking lot, you looked out the window and saw Eddie’s van. He’s already here, and you start to feel a bit anxious. The Hideout had not changed a bit. The neon signs in the window buzzed as you walked inside. Posters, fliers, and rustic decor filled the walls. You hear the low hum of chatter and the clinking of glasses, the place has a warm glow to it. You used to watch Eddie play here all the time. It felt like your heart was swelling, it's that bittersweet feeling again. You turn the corner and see Eddie and Gareth sitting in a booth. Eddie waves and one by one you all walk over and pile into the same booth. You sit across from Eddie, you can see his face getting a little red. “You uh…look really good, Y/N.” Eddie says with a half smile. He reaches over and adjusts one of your chain necklaces. Robin sees this and covers her mouth, trying not to laugh at how embarrassed you are. But you had to pull all that on hold for now. Nancy and Johnathan walk up and greet the group. You practically climb over Robin and wrap Nancy in a tight hug. “Oh! Y/N? You’re here?! When did you get into town?!” She asks and hugs you back just as hard. “The other day! It's so good to see you, Nance.” Nancy smiles and fights back tears, she didn't expect any kind of reunion. The thing is, You both grew up together. Your mom was friends with Mrs. Wheeler. You spent a lot of your childhood with Nancy and her brother Mike. When you left, Nancy thought she lost you to the city for good.  “Don’t cry! I’m sorry I’ve been gone for so long.” “They are happy tears, it’s fine. I’m just so happy to see you.” Nancy says between sobs. Everyone in the group is touched to see two best friends reunite. Robin looks like she might start crying too. You give Jonathan a hug as well, It's nice to see him doing well. He wasn't always full of smiles and you’ve wondered how he's been over the years. You remember Jonathan used to take photos of the gang, half of the polaroids you have were probably taken by him. A bartender comes by and takes our order. Eddie ordered whiskey and so did you. Vodka soda for Nancy and Robin, Steve and Jonathan order beers. The clinking of glasses, the occasional burst of laughter, and the subtle hum of the other patrons deep in conversation created a soundtrack to this shared experience. You updated your friends on your new life, and once again apologized for being an awful friend. Everyone was so happy to see you that it didn't matter anymore.  “You better not leave and go back to ignoring us.” Robin says.

“I wouldn’t even dream of it.” You reply.Hours slipped away unnoticed as the night unfolded, a mosaic of laughter, camaraderie, and the shared appreciation of the moment. Eddie could help but sneak glances at you, it was hard not to. He’s been trying to keep his cool all night, he had several shots of whiskey to build up some liquid courage. The world outside the café window dimmed as everyone delved into stories and life updates.

Eddie hands you his pack of cigarettes, silently asking if you’d like to go outside with him. You take one and place it between your lips. You and Eddie excuse yourselves from the group and head outside, the cold air sent a shiver up your spine.

“Brr! I forgot how cold it is when the sun goes down. I should have brought a coat.” You offhandedly say as Eddie lights your cigarette for you. Eddie removes his leather jacket, leaving him with a thick black hoodie. He drapes it around your shoulders and you are immediately much more comfortable. Your face gets a little red, he’s always been such a gentleman. You both lean up against Eddie's van. His thoughts are a symphony of emotions, dancing between hope and uncertainty. The evening was filled with a serene ambiance, and even in the quiet moments, you still felt comfort in his presence. “Y/N…” Eddie finally pipes up. “Yeah?” “I think we should talk. Y’know…about where we stand with each other.” Eddie admits. Your eyes widen, this is finally happening. The anxiety sets in and you try to swallow your nerves. Eddie stands in front of you, looking at his feet. “Do you remember, right before you left, that time we got high in my van next to lovers lake?” “Yeah. I do.” You answer quietly. “Do you remember me telling you that no one could ever replace you in my life?” He asks and you nod. You remember it like it was yesterday. It was a sunny day, the light glistening along the top of the water. You and Eddie passed a joint back and forth. You gave him a small wallet sized photo from picture day. “I still have that photo, I keep it in my wallet. You told me to keep it as a reminder, so I don't forget you. The thing is, meeting you was like finding my favorite song in a world full of noise, and I can't stop hitting replay no matter how many times I hear it.” Eddie takes a deep breath. It's like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders. You were stunned, absolutely speechless. In that moment, the unspoken became words, there was no going back now. Eddie moves a few inches closer, pinning you between himself and van. Under the glow from a nearby streetlamp, the air was charged with tension. You met his gaze with a gentle smile. Without another word, Eddie cupped your face in his hands. Time seemed to slow down as Eddie leaned in and pressed his lips against yours. You kiss him back, It spoke volumes with no words at all. Eddie presses his body against yours and you wrap your arms around his neck to bring him closer. You can't stop shaking, your nerves combined with the cold air made it impossible to be completely still. Eddie finally breaks away from you and opens the back doors to his van. “Hop in, you’re freezing to death.” Eddie says, you take his hand as he helps you into the van then he climbs in after you and shuts the door. You take a seat on an upside down milk crate while Eddie starts the car and cranks the heat. You still can't believe what just happened, you’ve only ever dreamed of this moment. Eddie grabs his acoustic guitar and sits on top of a large amp. He took a deep breath, fingers gently caressing the strings of the guitar, and he started to strum. “I feel so stupid for leaving you alone out here.” You say while looking down at your hands. “If anyone deserves an apology it’s you. I just assumed you moved on and didn’t need any reminders.” “Don’t worry your pretty little head, I forgive you.” He chuckles. “Besides, they say absence makes the heart grow fonder, right?” You recognize the tune he's playing, you’ve heard it before. “What song is this?” You ask, it's so familiar. “Photograph by Def Leppard.” He answers with a half smile and you smile back at him, your eyes widen as you recall the lyrics. He played this song for you before, but you ant remember how long ago. 

“Y’know, I still haven't figured out how to sit across from you and not be madly in love with everything you do.” You reply, hearing him play was actually really calming, you’ve missed this side of him. The guitar became an extension of his feelings, his voice carrying a sweetness to it, like warm honey. ♫“I see your face every time I dream

On every page, every magazine

So wild and free,

So far from me

You're all I want, my fantasy

Oh, look what you've done to this rock 'n' roll clown

Oh-oh, look what you've done

Photograph~

I don't want your photograph

I don't need your photograph

All I've got is a photograph

But it's not enough”♫ As the last chord resonated. Eddie sets the guitar against the wall of the van. You spring into his arms, tears stinging the corners of your eyes. You bury your face in his shoulder, you didn't expect to get so emotional. You’re so happy but you still feel so guilty, you question why anyone would leave this feeling behind.

Eddie pulls you into his lap. “Are you crying?! Oh shit, no don’t cry…”Eddie squeezes you a little tighter. “Shhh…it's okay, sweetheart.”

You took a deep breath, “I love you, Eddie.” The words spilled out.  “I love you too. I’ve always loved you.” Eddie says, when you look back at him he smiles and brushes a few strands of hair away from your face. “Do you want to go back to mine?” He asks, it's like he read your mind. You nod in response and Eddie chuckles. “Let's get out of here.”

[tiannasfanfic]

GossipWeb

Eddie Munson x Reader (Angst)

| Eddie Munson & Steddie Masterlist |

Summary: If you want to stay up to date on celebrity gossip, GossipWeb is the site to subscribe to! Monday’s Weekend Roundup for July 17 has an update on Corroded Coffin, and you should totally check it out!

Author Note: Modern Rockstar!Eddie AU. Reader not mentioned in this first part, but will be in future installments so I went ahead and labeled it as an x Reader fic. Written in the style of a gossip column.

CW: Mentions of divorce; mentions of alcoholism and drug addiction; mention of a fistfight.

(The following is an excerpt from the July 17, 2023 edition of The Weekend Roundup, a gossip column posted every Monday afternoon on GossipWeb.com and the GossipWeb app.)

Wedding bells are in the air for model Chrissy Munson and nature photographer David Greggs. The pair have officially announced their engagement on Sunday via social media, confirming recent rumors.

The happy couple shared the news on their respective Instagram accounts, showing photos of the two happily embracing on a beach at sunset. In one, Munson is holding out her hand to show off the huge sapphire and diamond engagement ring now sitting on her finger.

“I said YES!” Munson captioned her photo while Greggs captioned his, “She said YES!”

The pair first made headlines back in 2021, when they were spotted having dinner together just a few weeks after Munson filed for divorce from Corroded Coffin’s frontman, Eddie Munson.

While “Irreconcilable differences” were listed in the official court filing, representatives for both Eddie and Chrissy have declined to comment further on the matter. In the social media post announcing the divorce, Chrissy took a diplomatic path, stating, “Sometimes our plans in life just don’t work out the way we want them to. Unfortunately, this is one of those times. I wish Eddie nothing but the best and wish nothing but happiness for him. While our marriage may be over, he will always hold a special place in my heart.”

But, while her words made it sound like the split was an amicable one, many have their doubts it was that simple.

Rumors had been circulating regarding her ex husband’s hard partying lifestyle for years. Insiders have come forward to provide accounts of escalating drug and alcohol abuse, and extremely irrational and erratic behavior from the rockstar. Shortly after the divorce filing, it was reported to multiple news outlets that an intervention was been staged for Munson just a few days prior to the court filing, but it had failed.

In related news, the former members of Corroded Coffin are continuing to stay busy and are enjoying far more laid back schedules.

Following a highly successful album with their band Fallen Shadows, Jeff Richards and Grant Lee have announced a small, twenty city tour that will occur early next year. While the dates and cities are still to be determined, the two are looking forward to getting back on the road.

“It’s been awhile, but we’re itching to get back out there,” Richards stated in a Facebook post. “There’s nothing like bringing our music out into the world and sharing it in person with the fans.”

But Gareth Emerson hasn’t been so eager to return to the spotlight.

Following a successful stay at the Betty Ford Center, which he entered in December 2019, Emerson says he has done a lot of thinking about his life and who he wants to be, both as a person and an artist.

“The stress I was constantly putting myself under was ultimately my downfall,” he explained in a Facebook post full of self reflection. “And one of the biggest stressors for me was the constant need to promote myself, to sell myself basically. I stopped feeling like a person and started feeling like a piece of meat. In this business, it doesn’t take long before you start getting treated like a machine and you start looking for ways to cope. And, usually, you find yourself coping by turning to drugs. Now I don’t have to just cope because I refuse to put myself back in that stressful position.”

Emerson continues to write and record new music, which he releases on iTunes under his own name. While he’s leaning heavily into experimental sounds, his new style seems to be gravitating towards a blend of classic rock n’ roll, folk and heavy metal. It’s not a combination you would expect to hear from a speed metal drummer, but Emerson clearly has hidden talents he’s only just starting to show the world.

As for the frontman and lead guitarist, Eddie Munson, unfortunately, there’s not much can be said.

The statement from Corroded Coffin announcing their hiatus came in late 2019 just a few days after Munson and Emerson’s very publicized fistfight at the UK Music Video Awards. While he virtually dropped out of the spotlight as a musician in the following months, Munson was frequently in the news due to his excess partying and rowdy behavior.

Then, in 2022, he unexpectedly disappeared from the LA party scene, only to resurface a few months later in his old hometown of Hawkins, Indiana.

Representatives for Munson have declined to comment, so the true reasons for his returning to Hawkins are still unclear. The rocker has yet to make any return trips home to California within the last eighteen months since his departure. This adds credibility to a more recent rumor we reported on last week that Munson is in negotiations to sell his Malibu home to a private seller.

Perhaps the rockstar has finally turned over a new leaf?

Some signs point to yes.

Earlier this year, Gareth Emerson’s wife, actress Kim Simmons-Emerson, sent well wishes to Eddie in a heartfelt Instagram post. She posted an old photo of Munson and Emerson from high school with the caption, “Today marks a new beginning for old friends. We’re so proud of you. We knew you could do it.”

Subscribe to our free newsletter to stay up to date on any new developments!

[enam3l]

Hi luv! I just finished reading your “rockstar eddie munson does halloween pt.2” fic and OOOF damn was it delicious! I was wondering if I could put in a request for Rockstar!Eddie x reader for headcanons about the paparazzi or media in general being obsessed with Eddie and the Reader’s love story and how they handle it? Like Eddie’s doing an interview with Corroded Coffin and the interviewer loosely asks about the reader and Eddie goes off bragging about his wife and his kids like a lovestruck teenager OR maybe a talk show host is fascinated by their love story as highschool sweethearts or something. Idk what do you think?

Thank you for finally giving me the opportunity to do the big one - how rockstar Eddie met his wife. I got insanely carried away, I am not sure I have ever written this much, not even for my dissertation. This was absolutely a labour of love, I feel kind of silly for how invested I am in characters I've created. Thanks for giving me the perfect way of doing this bby.

the big one: how rockstar eddie met his wife

no TW / SFW / all wonderful heartwarming fluff / a huge insight to rockstar Eddie universe / whopping 11.7k words / enjoy and as always, request whatever! / follow #enam3ls rockstar eddie for more of the story

On a chilly November day, Eddie Munson sits in his favourite booth at The Hideout with a finger nervously circling his glass, it's like he's twenty again and never left. But it's 1999 and he sits there now having his free hand calmingly stroked by his wife who senses his nerves and presses reassuring kisses into his shoulder every time he fidgets in his seat. The bar is empty beside you both, a photographer strolling round the venue taking pictures of its quirks and creaking corners and then at the bar the manager and owner sit chatting to the interviewer. Eddie is next to be interviewed. 

Admittedly it's pretty epic that he was about to speak to and be featured in The Face magazine. Ten years since Corroded Coffin released their debut album and having just released their third, Eddie finds himself back in the place it all began. So far in his career, he'd shied away from the press, the press he'd received unwillingly in 86 had been traumatising and enough publicity to last a lifetime. Being famous in his eyes was a collateral consequence of being able to make music as a living. He didn't want the world knowing his business, having his privacy and the home life he loved so much invaded. He was aware that for some reason unknown to him, the media had taken an intrigue into his life with you. Well actually, he could understand their intrigue in you, he thought you were the coolest and most beautiful girl in the world and still had to pinch himself that you'd not only dated him but married him and then had his children. But now he was willing to put himself on the record for the first time. 

After a decade in the industry now, Eddie respected his humble beginnings more than ever and respected other artists who'd done the same. He found a common ground between Corroded Coffin and the other musicians they loved and admired, they'd all built there way up, starting at first in places like The Hideaway where he sat again now. Outside of the band he'd developed his own project of raising awareness and money for local independent venues and now The Face had picked up on his work and wanted to document his story and then collaborate in highlighting other small venues across the country which had been the homes of bands we all know. Eddie decided opening up publicly was worth it if it meant helping keeping these places open, giving the next group of lost kids trying to find purpose in music a home. Ever his supporter, you had come along to hold his hand – literally. 

Finally the interviewer came round and slid into the booth, sitting across the table from you both. Eddie looked over at The Hideout’s owners who gave him a huge grin and thumbs up, eternally grateful that Eddie had never forgotten them. The interviewer shuffled his papers and flicked on a tape recorder after checking Eddie was ready. The interviewer had been very kind and normal which did help relax Eddie slightly. Until now, Eddie had brushed off magazines, newspapers and chat shows. He didn't want to be ogled at and turned into a spectacle by mainstream media, a nagging feeling in the back of his mind told him these were the same types who’s berated him and brandished him a ‘freak’ in school. Instead, Eddie had stuck to giving attention exclusively to awkward fans who were making zines from their own rooms or off-beat shows and publications for avid music fans who were allies, not judges. The Face, he felt were an ally so here they were. 

‘So, Eddie, we're here in your hometown of Hawkins at a bar called The Hideout. How does it feel to be back?’ the interviewer begins, clearly genuinely interested. 

‘Well…’ Eddie hesitates but is spurred on by an encouraging squeeze to his leg from you, 'it's pretty nice to be back in here. It's always nice to be here, it's not my first time back since I was a teen or anything. Our family and friends are here so we come back a lot. Even if the town didn't necessarily feel like home, this place did. You wouldn't think from the outside, I guess. But inside, this place is an escape.’ 

The interviewer smiles and responds ,

‘Your friends and family are still here? That's cool man. Is it okay to say you're actually here talking to me with your wife? No worries if not, I can cut this!’ 

Eddie turns to you, he doesn't want to speak for you. 

You smile ‘No that's absolutely fine, for the record, I am present.’ 

You all snigger and the interviewer continues,

‘Awesome, thanks. So I take it then you've been here too, Y/N? It's sweet you're able to see Eddie’s beginnings and really cool that you guys keep coming back and are now supporting it.’

A smile is shared between you and Eddie that the interviewer picks up on. 

'Well…’ you begin, 'this place has a lot of history.’ 

Eddie laughs and agrees ‘yep, you can say that.’ 

Both of your hands are intertwined together, resting on the table and you both give each other a squeeze at your words. The interviewer notices your tender interactions. 

‘Okay, I'm sensing a story here. What does The Hideout mean to you?’

Eddie cracks, he can't resist boasting about you, you're his kryptonite. 

‘Sooo… this isn't just where Corroded Coffin started and had our biggest moments, it's actually where me and Y/N started,’ the interviewer lets out a little gasp and Eddie chuckles, ‘well shit, guess that cats out the bag or whatever now man. Yeah, I mean that's a question I get asked a lot. How we met, how we got together. Like fuck, we literally met right here.’ 

On February 11th 1989, once again the boys of Corroded Coffin find themselves once again back in The Hideout, except now they've got a bestselling debut album. After escaping Hawkins in December 1986 in Eddie’s battered van, they drove straight to New York to play any club that would let them through the door and graft until someone gave them a break. Some lunatic thankfully believed in them, gave them a record deal and now to celebrate not only releasing an album but it being a hit, Corroded Coffin have come home to celebrate in the place it all started. Dustin had called Eddie practically screeching down the phone, him and Steve had been watching the television and Corroded Coffin’s album had been mentioned, it's significant record sales being highlighted. 

‘You did it Eddie, holy shit!! They're talking about on the damn tv!!’

Eddie was baffled ‘Woah, Jesus. Calm down, man. Hello to you to. Now what the hell are you talking about.’ 

Dustin was ecstatic 'Do you not know?! The album, honestly Eddie, how do you not know. It's huge, they're freaking talking about it on tv, how it's fucking awesome!’

Suddenly Steve’s voice takes over the line 

‘Yeah dude like on MTV and everything. Legit shit. No weirdo show for metalheads or anything. Everyone is talking about you guys.’ 

Eddie rolled his eyes at Steve but he was surprised, they'd expected to just be acknowledged by people into their scene, not to be spoke about by everyone else. But for whatever reason, Corroded Coffin had sparked intrigue, people wanted to talk about that band from that spooky ass town in Indiana. Dustin and Steve came up with the idea for them to do a celebration gig at The Hideout, an event for those in the town who'd supported the guys from the beginning. It was actually a pretty cool idea and the guys all liked it and the venues owners had always been supportive of them and were more than happy to have a homecoming. 

They'd never expected it to be packed. People coming from everywhere to see Corroded Coffin in their natural habitat. The band, the staff and owners stood backstage laughing, totally dazed. From tickets alone the bar had made more money than it would usually in six months. The owner clapped Eddie on the back and cracked up 

‘Shit, I knew letting you punks crash my stage nearly every night would pay off one of these days. Proud of you guys. Now go deafen this fuckin town and make sure they drink this place dry.’

Eddie peers from around the curtain. The Hideout was jam packed, probably a health and safety violation but the perks of being a small venue in a random town was you could get away with those things. Still, he was stunned. They'd played sold out shows before, they'd generated quite the cult following in New York even before they signed a record deal. But this was their first gig since the album released and there was something different about seeing his home venue full like this… for him. His eyes scanned until they fell on a booth closest to the stage, packed in were his friends. Around a table full of drinks sat Steve, Robin, Nancy, Jonathan, Argyle, Dustin, Mike, Will, Lucas, Eleven and Max. They spotted him and cheered and waved like madmen. Eddie would forever be grateful for their unconditional support and how they'd stuck together after escaping the unthinkable. 

A poke from Gareth got Eddie’s attention. It was showtime. The boys huddled together in a circle chanting to psych themselves up, a ritual they'd continued on from their Hellfire days. Each member grabbed their instrument, let out a nervous round of woops and stepped out one by one on stage. Blinded by the lights and deafened by the cheers. 

Earlier that evening, across the road from the bar, a battered car pulls up outside The Forest Motel. The driver climbs out, legs a little stiff from the journey. As the door slams shut a puff of dust jumps into the air, the car decorated in a thin layer of the stuff from travelling cross country. They fumble with the boot to retrieve a leather duffel bursting at the seams, close the boot and look up to assess their home for the next two nights. Neon lights flicker on the sign meaning only ‘The rest Motel’ read clearly, a happy accident they suppose but doubt their nights will be restful based on the thumbing radiating from a bar across the narrow road. The area is run down, the only things on the small street placed within the forest being the motel, the bar, a small greasy looking café and a twenty-four-hour liquor shop. As they'd turned off the highway into the town the wooden sign labelled as ‘Hawkins,’ it was hard to ignore the overwhelmingly gloomy aura of the place. As soon as the threshold was crossed, the  sky becoming a little darker, air a little stiller, the trees taller and somehow more daunting than the ones that had lined to highway. 

Duffle over shoulder, the driver pushed through the heavy doors into a dated, kitschy lobby area. A receptionist sat at the desk flicking through television stations until landing on MTV which blared loudly. Satisfied the receptionist looked up noticing the driver’s presence and scrambled, straightening her uniform and whizzing her chair over to the computer. 

Flustered but smiling she apologised ‘Hi, I'm so sorry! I totally zoned, this is like the quietest it's been all day! Do you have a booking?’

The driver came over to the desk, letting the duffle hit the floor as they rested their elbows on the counter. Smiling back they replied ‘Yeah, yeah I do. It's Y/N. One night. Is it okay that I'm checking in late?’

The receptionist looked relieved and confessed ‘Oh thank god because we do not have a single room available if you hadn't booked. The place is soo full, it's usually a total ghost town. Yeah checking in now is no problem but you're kinda late for the gig though? Most people came this morning or afternoon.’

Your face wrinkles in confusion and you have to ask ‘Oh no sorry I'm not here for… the gig? What gig is it?’

She now gasps and clasps her had in excitement

‘Ohmygod you don't know? So like okay so these guys they like went to my high school, total losers then but whatever anyway turns out they're not like a hot band. I mean they're not my thing really, so noisy… anyway! They're debut album just went right into the charts and now they've come back here. You know that dirty looking bar over the road? Yeah! That's where they started and they're doing a homecoming gig to celebrate. Sooo cool right??’

You blinked, trying to process the barrage of words she just practically squealed out. Although she's at least clarified why the seemingly dingy bar was so loud and looked so busy. 

Attempting to force a polite smile you reply ‘Yeah, that's awesome.’ 

The look in her eye gives away that she's disappointed your energy didn't match hers or that you hadn't asked for gossip about the guys you assume she probably would only give the light of day now because of their fame. The receptionist rustles around the desk sighing, realising you're really not going to give her more. 

‘Well… here's your key. Room number 12. Go outside, up the stairs then it's the last door. Have a good stay.’ 

Her clear disappointment makes you feel a little bad so you make sure to give her a bright smile as you thank her and take the key. As you collect your duffle and head towards the door you came through before, your head snaps round at the sudden volume increase on the television and a girlish squeal from the receptionist. 

'Ohmygod! Wait! Come back! Look, look!’ She's stood back up now, jumping on the spot with her hands flapping like a crazed fangirl. You shuffle back over and you gaze in the direction of the television, still on MTV, which she points to. A bright pink manicured nail taps the screen at the music video playing.

‘That's them! That's them! See, they're like actual rockstars. Totally crazy they came from this shithole ugh I wish I wasn't working. You should try and go, at least someone should have fun.’ 

You laugh and nod ‘Maybe!’ you linger for a moment watching the video and waiting for the band members to appear but they don't, the gloomy music video only shows a little girl kicking a hideous monster's ass.  The music however is good, heavy on guitars with surprisingly nice vocals. 

Once you're finally in the room, you immediately flop onto the bed. Exhausted from driving all day, legs stiff and fingers cramping. A groan escapes when you remember your journey is barely over, still to cross the state borders to get to your final destination of Chicago. As cliché as it sounds, your job was your dream one, allowing you to get paid for being creative and travel the country but admittedly that could be draining at times. It'd been a long time since you'd been able to call somewhere your ‘hometown,’ the receptionist’s rambling had reminded you of that and the idea of calling a place ‘home’ made your heart twinge a little. The small apartment in New York that the company provided wasn't home, you didn't chose it, you barely decorated it and frankly, you were never there. It was basecamp if anything, where you kept the majority of your belongs and near the main office – practical not personal. 

The shower thankfully was hot unlike the other motels you'd hit so far and soothed your aches. Once out of the bathroom you noticed the music radiating from across the road was even louder, you peak from behind the curtains at the bar. It's almost vibrating from the amps. God, you were tempted. Even if the band weren't there and even if their music had sounded god awful, you really could do with a drink and going to a bar was a lot less depressing than drinking a bottle of rum from the liquor store next door out of plastic cups from the motel, alone and overthinking. Fuck it, you think, you're going to go. Worst case scenario you can make the giddy receptionist feel better by telling her she didn't miss out, best case scenario you dance until your feet hurt and have some drunk sex with a stranger. After drying your hair and doing your make up, you pick out a long sleeve black mini dress and some knee high black boots and thank the universe for giving you a job full of trendy people so you actually have to make effort at work. You analyse yourself in the mirror and decide for someone who is sleep deprived and not slept in their own bed in days, you look pretty good. 

The best thing about motels is not having to go through reception to leave or arrive meaning you can make all the worst life choices possible without getting a single judging look from a knowing receptionist. In this case, you just didn't want to be spotted by the receptionist and admit she persuaded you, you're also a little worried she might make you take her with you. The bar is heaving, even from the outside. People litter the street out front smoking and chattering, the variety of people tickles you. Hard weathered metal heads all leather clad are mixed among mild mannered suburbanites and a surprising amount of scantly-clad hot girls. It's sweet you think to yourself, how this random town has gathered together to celebrate the band and how clearly they have a fan base who are dedicated enough to come all the way out here just to be a part of the moment. The gangs of girls makes you wonder again what the band look like, you're baffled how a group of guys the receptionist cruelly called ‘losers’ could end up with attention like this. You have an inkling the receptionist was definitely wrong about them. 

Luckily once you're at the door, they still have a couple of tickets left but they warn you it's already started. It's a struggle to even get into the room, bodies rammed together and bouncing in motion along to the song they're mid way through. The place is deceptively big and all wooden panelled, more like a real venue than a bar with a huge open standing area, an upstairs balcony and long bar on the left hand side that is crammed with people. On the right hand side there's a row of plush red velvet booths. You wonder what The Hideout was before it was a bar, it looked as if it once could've been a beautiful theatre but that memory is wiped out by blaring guitars which you can only hear and not see over the crowd. Wiggling between people and feeling embarrassed at being an inconveniences you suddenly get caught in a sweep of the crowd as a new song begins to play and clearly it's a favourite as suddenly everyone turns to get closer to the stage. 

Eventually, you're able to pop out the other side and finally get to the now abandoned bar. As you lean over the bar top to look at the bottles lining the walls, you're bumped into. You stumble back as a drink splashes all over your boots. A loud frantic voice brings your head back up from staring at the puddle you're now stood in. 

‘Oh shit!! Oh man, I'm so so sorry! Shit, they said I'd spill the drinks as well. Crap. Are you okay? Shit. Let me get you some paper towels.’

A boy in his late teens stands in front of you, he has a sweet face, an impressive mop of curls on top but most impressively he's wearing a Weird Al t-shirt to a metal gig which makes you laugh. He's brandishing napkins at you before you can respond. Taking them you giggle,

‘Hey, hey honestly don't worry! It's only my shoes and it's probably the least gross thing I'll step in here… cool t-shirt though.’

He grins now practically ear to ear, his smile somehow warms your heart and the compliment makes him look like he might hug you. 

‘THANK YOU! Can you say that again to my friends? They tried to make me change. Hey look let me get your drink to apologise anyway and to thank you for backing me and Al up?’

You attempt to shake your head and wave your hands

‘No no don't worry about it honestly, I'm okay!’

But he's already got the bartenders attention and his smile persists. 

' I insist! Plus we've got a tab anyway,’ he turns to look at you now with a proud look on his face and he points towards the stage, ' the guitarist over there? One of my best friends.’

The stage is visible from the bar but between the bright lights and the fact there's multiple guitars on stage, you're not sure which is his friend but you're still impressed and love how proud he is of his friend too. 

‘Damn, that's really cool. Well thank you so much then!’ You give the bartender your order then turn back, 'I hadn't heard of these guys, I'm not from here. Just at the motel and heard about it. Thought I'd check it out, so far, so good.’

He nods thoughtfully, ‘Awesome! I was going to say, I've never seen you before and it's a small town so, y’know. Oh shit, I'm Dustin by the way!’

You introduce yourself and shake the hand he's extended out. The bartender slides your drink over and you take it. You look around and shuffle awkwardly, realising you're not sure where to go or what to do now. Dustin clearly notices and gathers his drinks and nods his head in the opposite direction as if to signal you somewhere. 

‘Well Y/N, let us adopt you for the night! Come on and join our band of misfits supporting the actual band. We've got a booth, it's pretty sweet.’ 

Knowing you've got no one else and also that you cannot reject that sweet face you smile and follow him through the crowd. The booth is packed with the whole group buzzing, bouncing in their spots and craning their necks to spot their friend on stage. Nothing needs to be said, you just know how much they love their friend and for the second time that night, your heart twinges at the thought of something absent in your life. A girl, probably the same age as yourself is stood by the table waiting for Dustin’s arrival. Immediately upon seeing you both she is fussing the boy and collecting the drinks, you can already tell she's the mom of the group. Her eyes dart between the two of you, clearing waiting for an explanation about the strange girl encroaching on her team, for a mild looking girl she is surprisingly terrifying. Dustin slings an arm round your shoulder, saving you and guides you to the table, now getting everyone's attention. 

‘Guys! This is Y/N, she's with us for the night after I may have possibly spilt a beer on her… sorry Steve.’

A guy with handsome boyish looks, caramel eyes and fantastic hair gives Dustin a scowl and groans 

‘Agh, Dustin! I knew this would happen, man. You gotta be more careful,’ the terrifying girl backs him up but he turns to you with a charming smile ‘I’m always telling him this. But I'm not complaining you got wet, it means we get to meet you Y/N.’

You try not to snigger at the accidental innuendo but a laugh escapes. The rest of the group (aside one teenage girl with brown hair who just looks confused) stare at him, gobsmacked and shaking their heads. Another teenage girl with beautiful red hair groans audibly and let's out 

‘Jesus Christ, Steve!’

The terrifying girl clips him round the head with the back of her hand as two guys who you're pretty sure are stoned, burst out laughing. Another girl with a light brown messy bob saves the conversation and introduces herself as Robin then points to each member,

'You've clearly met Dustin and unfortunately, Steve. Then Nancy, Jonathan, Argyle and the rugrats are Max, El, Mike, Will and Lucas.’

Robin then shoos everyone down the booth for you to hop in, you sandwich in between her and Steve. 

The mix of ages confuses you slightly so you cave and ask, ‘So… I gotta ask, how do you know each other?’ They look between each other, as if there's a secret on debate that you're not privy to. Nancy takes the lead again, 

' Well we all went to school together. We are…’ and she points to herself and the older people ‘pretty much the same age and then that's my brother Mike and his friends and we've all sort of merged into one big group.’ It's clear they're all incredibly close, the age gap not an issue and a sense that they are each other's family and will be bonded for life. The young ones are eighteen and the others early twenties like yourself. Your curiosity is killing you though and you cave, 

‘So what about the band? Your friends with the guitarist right, how do you know him?’

Laughs are shared between them again, you sense another secret that's not for you to hear. Mike speaks up for the first time,

‘Eddie? School as well! He was kind of our mentor,’ he points between the other boys his age, ‘he was older. He urm…repeated a few years so he's like twenty four now?’ Mike is nudged in the ribs by Lucas now who interrupts, 

‘Clearly, Eddie didn't need school because now he's a freaking rockstar,’ he points to the side of the stage furthest from you, ‘and the other guys all went to school with us too.’ 

Your view is still obscured, between stage lights and the distance, the infamous Eddie remains a mystery man. But you can still work out his guitar over the other members and can hear his surprisingly soft voice blending in with the lead singer's, the band is amazing but something about him stands out even whilst he's faceless. 

Corroded Coffin reach their final song and you're a little tipsy and truly feeling part of the group. It's the most included you've felt in so long, the most fun you've had since leaving college. You've all been throwing yourselves round and heads banging, the gang serenading each other with the lyrics they've learnt by heart to all the songs. When the band finishes the crowd go wild, screams and cheers lasting for minutes. It's endearing as you see the band visibly flustered at the praise and the lead singer thanks them repeatedly, evidently baffled. Once they leave the stage and the lights come on a little, you worry that this is the end of your evening, the end of your time with this group you've known for an hour but somehow you want to cling to. But a little tug at your sleeve pulls you out of your worries, Robin is smiling and says 

‘We’ll be sticking around for a bit, we want to congratulate our rockstar! We've not seen Eds in months and this place will be open for a while. Wanna stay?’ 

You can't hide your grin and nod enthusiastically, your grin only expands when the sweet girl pulls you in for a hug. She's right, it's clear they're not going anywhere but you decide now the crowd is thinning out, you’ll go to the bathroom. 

The bathroom is thick with perfume and cigarette smoke. Gorgeous girls are gathered round the mirrors, reapplying make up, adjusting outfits and taming hair. You slide into a cubicle. Once in there you can't help but listen to the chatter.

‘Eddie is so fucking hot, it's those tattoos. His arms? The way they flex when he plays. I want to eat him.’ A second voice responds,

‘Bitch, I have every intention of eating him all up tonight.’

A third now chimes in,

‘You fucking wish, that cheap ass push up bra you wore at the San Francisco gig didn't even make him budge.’

The girls continue to bicker, more voices getting involved discussing Eddie, his dating life and sex appeal as well as the other members. It's driving you insane hearing so much about this man and still having no face to go off. Even with the information you have, it's hard to form an image or opinion of him. Within the past two hours since you've heard of Eddie’s existence, he's been referred to as a loser, a rockstar, a sweetheart, a role model and now, a sex god. When you finish and clean up, you leave the bathroom, still stuck behind the gaggle of fangirls as they continue to debate the things they want to do to each band member. 

Eddie is exhausted. Him and the rest of Corroded Coffin came straight off the press circuit around California, onto a plane and then to The Hideout. He wants to see his uncle and have a long nap in his old bedroom, he wants to finally see his friends after being separated for so long. It's all he could think about on stage and he felt guilty. Homecoming for Eddie was being reunited with his friends, that's who he wanted to do this gig for. But instead he spent the night looking out onto a sea of people who for most of his life have hated him, belonging to a town that once never wanted him to return. The fame was bittersweet, getting to play music professionally was a dream, being forced once again into the public eye was not. The CIA, admittedly did an excellent job doing a thorough retraction of previous claims made about him but Eddie can't forget how this town treated him because they treated him like a criminal long before he allegedly was one. Now they have the audacity to praise him and ask things of him. They don't actually like his music because his music has always been the same and they didn't like it before. They don't actually like him personally because he's the same as ever and they didn't like him before. They liked that his name meant something other than bad news now and they could have a tangible link to him. There's a handful of people he owes in Hawkins, people who can ask anything of him because they always gave him so much: the band, the gang, the owners of the Hideout,  his Uncle Wayne and then Joyce and Hopper. 

Amongst the people of Hawkins there are real fans of Corroded Coffin and he feels guilty about that too. They've come all the way out here to see him but he's letting himself fall to the side of the stage, mostly out of view and hidden by a strategically placed stage light. Usually on stage he's wild and gives it his all, he embodies a similar state he gets when he's being a Dungeon Master but in front of his former ‘neighbours’ he already feels naked and he'd very much like to hide. 

Once the set has finished and wires are removed, Eddie all but runs from backstage into the bar where he knows his friends are. They're sat in a booth he got the bar owner to reserve for them, it was their regular seats long before he left Hawkins. Every single one of them came. They spot him too and run over. It's a pile on, a tangling of limbs and hair. These people are Eddie’s home and fuck, he thinks, he's felt a part of him missing without them. He loves the band, they've been friends for years but there's a bond between Eddie and the gang that goes beyond friendship, they're bonded by life and death and the horrific bits in-between that no human is ever meant to know. Once they all untangle, Eddie hugs everyone individually and is then bombarded by congratulations and compliments and he can take these ones because he knows they're genuine. 

His final hug is with Dustin, who he clings onto a little longer than the rest and then lets his hands, stinging from playing all night, ruffle the boys soft curls. 

‘Fuck, I missed you man.’ 

Dustin grins, the feeling is more than mutual.

‘Eddie! That was the most metal ever! And thank you for sorting the booth out. Shit it was all so awesome.’ 

Steve sidles over now, never wanting to miss out. He slings his arm around Eddie’s shoulder and jabs him. 

‘Yep, the kids right bro. Even I could tolerate your screaming. You guys were hardcore out there.’

Eddie sees Steve’s smug face waiting for a reaction to his cheeky jibes and Eddie is not above giving him one. He lunges his own arm forward and dares to muss the locks of thee Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington. Steve gasps and stumbles backwards and away, quickly attempting to restyle his hair as he does, Eddie turns too and sees a noisy gaggle leaving the women’s bathrooms. 

‘Shit.’ Eddie wishes immediately that the Upside Down had granted him the power of invisibility and not just some gnarly scars. Fan girls. He recognised a few, they show up at a lot of events and gigs. On one hand he appreciates their commitment, they do love the music and they are the reason he has an income, on the other hand he's absolutely terrified of them and is stumped by their desire and persistence. Eddie was no virgin, he hadn't been before he left Hawkins and he definitely wasn't now. It turns out that outside a small town, people seem to think Eddie is hot and what Hawkins called ‘quirks’ and ‘uncool’ was actually pretty cool in the city. Now, he can't lie, some of these girls are gorgeous and he may have slept with one or two on some very dark days. They're mostly kind women who mean well but their persistence scares the crap out of him and he's acutely aware that in high school they would've bought drugs off him yet recoiled at his touch. They don't know him, they don't really see him as a person, they see him as a symbol or whatever. 

Carla, who could be described as the ring leader, is quick to pounce. She totters over to Eddie, hand immediately on his arm, fingers squeezing over prominent veins.

'Eddie, baby, you guys were so fucking hot tonight. Totally dominated…’ her long finger twiddles with a curl of his hair, ‘shame about that light though, couldn't see your sexy concentration face… you know I like that.’

Carla is too close for comfort and Eddie worries for a moment his strategic hiding was been rumbled but she doesn't dwell on it. But her words drown out as someone moves from around the fan girls. In fact, the world drowns out.

Eddie’s eyes are drawn to you in a way he's never felt before. The room around him feels dark and you're like a gentle candlelight, the only thing he can process. His nails dig into his palms, willing his body to do something except stare and sweat. You're beautiful in a way that feels otherworldly, belonging as an elven queen from a Hellfire world or an enchantress he would write lyrics about. You don't belong in somewhere as underwhelming and sad as Hawkins. Eddie certainly doesn't feel like you belong in a world he is a part of. 

‘Oh, hey Y/N! Over here!’

Eddie's daze is broken by Steve’s voice and Eddie feels his heart sink as your head whips round to see Steve. Y/N is you and Steve knows you. The neutral look previously on your face is broken by a blooming smile as you walk towards Steve. Eddie could be sick, he feels eighteen again, small and invisible. Is Steve yours? In his absence, did Eddie miss the part where Steve met someone and was bringing her as a date to the gig. His eyes burn at your shoulder where Steve’s hand has found its way to and looks comfortable, like it belongs on your body. You must be Steve’s. Eddie feels ridiculous and a little creepy, fantasising about a stranger. 

Realising Carla is still clutching him, Eddie apologises and excuses himself, brushing her off as he turns back away to the rest of his friends. He's about to shuffle away when his ears prick as Steve calls him name. 

‘Eddie! Eddie, this is Y/N. We adopted her for the night, another poor innocent victim of Dustin’s butter fingers.’

‘Y/N, Eddie’s here now. Come, let me introduce you to the man of the hour…’ Steve’s hand on your shoulder guides you forward, you're still not sure who you're looking for, ‘Eddie! Eddie, this is Y/N. we adopted her for the night, another poor innocent victim of Dustin’s butter fingers.’

Next to the leggy blonde girl from the bathroom, a long tumble of curls span round. This was Eddie, and you could understand why the girl was planning on eating him. The mystery face was unveiled and your breath felt stuck in your throat. You were thankful now for the light that had hidden him from your sight all night as surely had you known this is who you'd be meeting, you'd have crawled out the tiny bathroom window. You felt lost in eyes flecked with every shade of brown which caused your cheeks to in turn go every shade of red. Fingernails dug into the nail bed of your thumb, hoping the sting would shock you into doing anything other that gawp at this poor man who probably spends his life fending off strange women who are undressing him with their eyes. Not that you're undressing him with your eyes, you're really trying very hard not to do that.

Neither you or Eddie are sure of how long you've been staring at the other, although both of you are unaware at the way the other is staring. Luckily the bubble is pierced by Dustin’s giddy voice,

‘Oh awesome! You guys met!’

Dustin appears between the two of you along with Robin. 

Simultaneously both you and Eddie muster up a whispered,

‘Yeah…’

Robin looks between the two of you and a smirk forms, you are both looking at each other as if it's the first time you're seeing in colour – eyes slowly blinking, mouths agape in a little O shape. Neither of you are subtle. Robin nudges Dustin who then nudges Steve, all three now feeling they're witnessing the start of something between two completely oblivious people. A cough from Robin breaks the lingering stares once more, 

‘Boys, do you want to get more drinks? Come on, Y/N we’ll go back to the booth.’ 

You're both dragged apart. You can't help but notice the way the girl from the bathroom who had been pawing at Eddie is left standing speechless and disoriented at the rejection. A part inside you feels smug and you want to beat it away for enjoying the disappointment of others at their loss of something you want.

‘Yeah… you're fucking welcome man,’ Steve chuckles as he claps Eddie on the back. Eddie shakes his head confused,

‘Huh? What do you mean?’ 

Dustin scoffs, 

‘What do we mean? We just found you you're god damn dream girl, Eddie!’

Eddie looks over at you again, you're back at the booth and twiddling with an empty glass and he has to tell himself that when he looked over, you hadn't really snapped your head away, caught staring at him too. Wishful thinking, Munson he told himself. Love is not something for Eddie. He was lucky to be alive, luckier to have escaped Hawkins and then even luckier to have become a musician. There was no more luck left to be had, he understood. Love was just not meant for him, he'd used his three magic wishes from the universe and he just had to accept it. He was grateful for the occasional hook up and fling but feelings were never involved, for one, Eddie didn't ever feel comfortable enough with new people to let himself be open and vulnerable. Eddie sighs, 

‘How do you know she's my dream girl?’

Steve and Dustin look irritated at his doubting.

‘Well she fucking looks like THAT for starter,’ Steve gestures exasperatedly. 

‘Aaand she's so cool, Ed. Does all this cool creative work, likes all these cool bands that we've never heard of but you probably have. And, and, she knew what D&D was! She was genuinely interested when Mike blew our cover and got nerdy,’ Dustin lists breathlessly. Steve hums in agreement 

‘Oh yeah! She was super nice about that, I've never met a girl that hot listen and understand to all your guys nerdy wizard shit. And she spoke to everyone, asked about all our lives, about you!’

Eddie is flustered at all this information, he had kind of hoped you sucked so he didn't have to feel so awkward and desperate. He had really hoped the little voice inside his heart saying 'give this one a chance,’ before he knew a thing about you, was wrong. However, he knew how protective the boys were of him and yet here they are giving him a sales pitch about you, a girl who even when nameless he felt he'd walk through glass just to know. Eddie presses his palms to his eyes and rubs. A deep groan escapes him, 

‘Ughhh, fuck,’ he sees you still twirling the empty class, ‘shit. Fuck. Fine. Shit, okay what was she drinking?’ 

Dustin can't contain a skip of glee, Steve feels proud and his solemn friend’s bravery. 

' Whiskey sour,’ Dustin announces with glee. 

Eddie sighs, of course that was your drink. Cool drink for a cool girl. Damn it. 

You were still trying to catch the breath Eddie’s presence stole once you got back in the booth. Robin’s hand still clutched around you wrist from having to force your limbs into action. Everyone at the table had intrigued and slightly smug faces as if they were waiting for you to tell them something. Nancy broke the silence, 

‘Sooo… Eddie is nice right?’

You looked around, everyone was leaning forward and nodding, desperate for a response. 

'Urm,’ you stuttered, 'We barely spoke?’ Although you were trying to stop the alcohol buzz taking over your tongue and spouting out ‘yeah hella nice to look at.’

The group clearly weren't satisfied with the response. Max takes the reigns now, 

‘Well you'll speak tonight!’ 

Robin nods 'absolutely, we'll make sure of it!’ 

Sweet little Will is next ‘mmhmm, Y/N, you'll love him! You're so similar!’

If you didn't know better, you'd think these people you've known for an evening were trying to set you up with their friend. But as you're scanning the faces of your new pals with narrowed eyes, an awkward cough and shuffling of feet distracts you. 

A large hand reaches a drink over to you, a litter of rings chiming against the glass and veins flexing as the hand lingers for a moment. Eddie stands at the edge of the booth, his warm eyes sparkling and a nervous smile on his face. 

‘For you… Y/N’ he mumbles, ' Dustin said this is what you were drinking.’ 

It was, Dustin was right but this one was embellished with extra garnishes you hadn't received before. A big sugary cherry on top, a small straw and a couple of decorative leaves. You tried your hardest to only focus on the drink and the handsome face standing above you, refusing to let the Cheshire Cat grins surround you distract. Shit, you absolutely were being set up and you can't be mad when those big soft eyes blink at you hopefully. 

You beam up at him, ‘thank you so much Eddie. You guys were amazing… definitely turned around a boring evening in a shitty motel for me.’ Your fingers brush as you take the glass from him and the static that runs between your skin shocks any confidence out of you. Eddie hesitates again when his hand retracts as he assesses the seating situation. Both of you are suddenly hyper aware the only space for him is next to you, oh these people are good you both thought, they've plotted this. 

He nervously eyes the seat and then you, you wonder how someone who looks so confident and is a literal rockstar, could be so timid. He's probably had a million girls, you'd just witnessed a whole posse swoon over him. You shuffle over some more and pat the seat to invite him, he slides in carefully as if to be sure your bodies are not touching, preventing anymore thrilling electricity between your skin. The rest of the group have started babbling away again, clearly satisfied that their plan has come together. Eddie can't help his eyes linger on the straw you've now taken between your lips, he's often wished he was something other than himself however he's never before desired to be a straw. Brushing rogue curls behind his ear, he clears his throat and takes the leap, 

‘So… hey, Urm… did you enjoy it?’ 

You swallow and smile, taken aback he'd even ask considering there wasn't now a non-hoarse voice in the building. 

‘Yeah! You guys were amazing. Admittedly, I never heard of you guys before but the receptionist at the motel told me to come and I took a chance. I’m glad I did,’ you notice you're rambling and Eddie is giving slow blinks, ‘but… um, yeah. I could hear you over everyone else.’

Eddie had no idea who this receptionist is but he decides she may go on the list of people he owes, he's flattered and feels a smile creeping over his face until you say the last part. Then he panics. 

‘Oh shit, did I fuck up?’ He's trying to run through the entire set in his mind, ‘fuck, was my amp too loud?’ 

You feel awful at the clear panic now covering his face and running through his voice, instinctually your hand reaches out and clutches his forearm to reassure him. 

'No, no, no! I just mean… it just felt you played a little bit harder than everyone out, your voice stood out still amidst everything,’ your next words fall out without thinking, 'I couldn't see you but you were all I was paying attention to.’ 

Eddie’s heart flutters, he thinks you might be the sweetest thing in the world. He's trying desperately not to draw attention to your hand clutching him because he doesn't want it to withdraw. Your touch no longer causes static, it's now radiating soothing warmth and for the first time in what feels like forever, he feels calm. 

‘Thank you… you're lovely,’ he whispers and you both just sit and smile at each other. You don't want to take your hand away either. 

The two of you continue to chat, you're both aware you're at a packed table and yet neither of you care. You're both desperate to absorb as much information about the other as possible, neither of you wanting to address the voice in the back of your heads saying you’ll never see each other again. Awkward teen years and unconventional families and childhoods bond you. Both understand each other as larger than life personalities that mask sensitive insides that aren't built for the judgment of small towns. As you talk, neither of you notice your hand had slid down his arm and stayed rested on his thigh, own hand tantalisingly close. When Eddie notices, he lets his little finger brush against yours. He realises he's never felt this comfortable with a woman before, he's comfortable around Robin and Max particularly but it's platonic and it took time. With you he feels relaxed and the step to let his pinky continuously stroke over your hand feels natural and he doesn't want this to be platonic but he doesn't want it to be only sexual, he just doesn't want you to leave. The feeling is mutual. 

Neither of you notice the crowd has gone, the bar empty aside from the group who are beginning to look a little tired and restless. You and Eddie are lost together until Nancy appears at the side of the table and gets your attention. 

‘Hey guys, I'm really sorry but we're going to head off. It's getting late. Y/N it was so nice to meet you, Dustin got all your details right?’ You nod and grin and hope he uses them. ‘Great! And Eddie, we’ll see you at Steve's tomorrow night?’ 

Eddie nods and squeezes your hand as he drops it to get up to hug everyone goodbye, they all say bye to you and how they're so glad you ran into each other and they hope to see you soon. Once they leave, the bar is empty beside you, Eddie and the bar staff. Both of you can't help but look at each other grinning and erupting into giggles like little sugar rushed kids. 

‘Do you want another drink?’ Eddie asks hopefully. 

You nod enthusiastically, leaving was not an option that crossed either of your minds. 

‘I'm just having a coke, what do you want?’ Eddie doesn't want a drop more of alcohol, he wants to be sober around you, a feeling he's not used to around women. He's scared alcohol will cheapen the moment or will prevent him from savouring every second of your company. 

‘Good idea, a coke too please,’ you ask sweetly. You don't want alcohol, you want the sugar to keep you awake as long as possible to prolong this night. 

Eddie strides over to the bar, the owner and manager stands behind counting bills. 

‘Hey man, we still good to get some drinks?’

The owner looks up at Eddie then you, sat in the booth but gazing over at Eddie, moony eyed. He chuckles, ‘Sure. You reaping the rewards of being a rockstar now?’

Eddie shakes his head, a little embarrassed and a little irritated at the thought of you being depicted as nothing but a hook up because he's desperate for that not to happen. But he knows the owner, known him long enough to be a little vulnerable.

‘No, no, no. She's no fangirl, if anything I feel like a fan boy trying to impress her.’ 

The owner smiles as he makes the drinks, he's witnessed first hand how Eddie has come into his own over the years and he mocked at first but he knows Eddie is a sweet kid. 

'Enjoy,’ he smirks as he passes over the drinks, ‘you got about thirty minutes before we finish clearing and then you guys gotta find a new place to make eyes.’ For the hundredth time that night, Eddie’s cheeks heat up. 

You're sat waiting and the doe eyes you have whilst watching Eddie return to the booth makes him feel sticky sweet inside. Despite the empty booth, you make sure you're sat, knees touching as you angle yourselves so you can look at each other properly. Eddie decides to gamble and admit that time is ticking,

‘We’ll have to leave after we finish these…’ 

Your heart sinks. Part of you hope some how time would stand still and you could stay in this encounter forever, no journey to travel to, no flat states away you'd have to return to and more importantly no extravagant life for this boy in a band to go and get lost in. The sickening thought that you're both rogue bodies passing in the night and you'll lose track of each other has been pulling at you all night. 

Looking into your drink, scared to see Eddie’s response, you almost whisper,

'I'm not done yet… with tonight.’ 

A silence lingers and you don't want to look up and see Eddie’s face twisted at your desperation. But that's not the expression on his face, his face is soft but shocked and his pupils dilate at your words, letting himself get lost in the thought of never letting you go. A pinky from his hand that clasps his glass, nudges yours which is also wrapped around your glass. Your pinkies hook around each other, his tiny touches reassure you and you dare to look up. His smile is the biggest you've seen all night, it's beautiful, he is beautiful. 

‘Me neither,’ he whispers back. 

You don't know this town but you assume everywhere is shut so you take the plunge,

‘Look… I'm in the motel over the round,’ his eyes widen at your words, 'do you just want to carry on there? I have snacks?’ 

Eddie refuses to let nerves win and take away this chance from him, his pinky squeezes yours.

‘Sounds good,’ he smiles. Your fingers unlink so you both can finish your drinks, you do so in silence, both a flurry of nerves. Glasses clunk to the wooden table top simultaneously. Eddie waits a second before getting up then offering his hand to help you slide out the booth. He drops it once you're safely on your feet and you wish he hadn't. You both walk out the bar, the owner wishing a goodnight and a wink and thumbs up at Eddie whilst your eyes are diverted. Once in the air you both inhale deeply, having forgotten what fresh air felt like after inhaling the thick and smoky air of the club. 

Despite the road being deserted, Eddie pushes you behind him so he can assess when to cross and then safely guide you over. The walk to the motel is only a matter of steps and you're leading him up the creaking metal stairs to your room. Eddie gulps at his view of your legs in front of him, the backs of soft thighs moving with each step, your short dress fluttering slightly and he tries to divert his attention to the ground out of respect. You fumble with the key and lock then finally heave the door open and bounce on into the room. Eddie lingers in the door frame watching your movements, he's hesitant to make a wrong move. You throw yourself, back first onto the bed and starfish, your eyes and closed with a smile on your face and Eddie thinks this should've been their album cover. He doesn't want to stare at you on the bed too much, so let's his eyes scan round the room. It's endearingly retro, he's never been inside a room here before, only dropping weed off at the door – usually to sad regulars from The Hideout whose wives had thrown them out. His eyes snap back to your figure as you lean over to the bedside drawer. Shit, shit, shit. You're making a move. He doesn't want to just have sex with you, that's not why he's here, I mean he would like to have sex with you but not right now, right now he just wants to bathe in your presence for as long as you'll let him. He's panicking and he's still in the doorway like a creep he thinks and his words tumble out manically,

‘I DON’T WANT TO JUST SLEEP WITH YOU!’ 

Your bending figure darts back up, your eyes wide and slowly your hand returns out of the drawer revealing your fingers crinkling round packets of snacks. Eddie realises. You'd hidden food there, not condoms unless Cheetos had expanded their offerings. He thumps his head against the door frame, mortified. You realise and feel awful for him, you'd wondered why he was looking so on edge. A laugh falls out of your mouth before you can stop it, 

‘Eddie… it's okay. They're just snacks and I invited you here because I didn't think anywhere else was open and… I wanted to just be around you.’ 

Eddie is thankful he's holding onto the door frame because he fears he'd melt into a puddle. His embarrassment is eclipsed by you admitting to feeling the same as him. He lets himself laugh at the mistake now, it feels like the natural response to your infectious smile. You shuffle over to one side of the bed and pat the empty side for Eddie to join you. You arrange the snacks in the middle as you watch him carefully take off his leather jacket, draping it over a chair and then unlacing his big boots in order to join you. 

‘Oh, oops,’ you now realise you've yet to take your boots off as your legs dangle over the edge of the bed, 'I forgot to take mine off too, shit, I hate these fucking zips.’ You're muttering as you battle with the stiff zip that runs up your calf, Eddie swats your angry little hands away.

‘Let me,’ he sweetly smiles. Your voice couldn't muster up a peep even if you wanted to reject his help as he carefully takes your calf, holding it against his hip as his other hand glides up from your ankle to just under your knee where the zip resides. An audible gulp comes from you at his delicate touch, your legs are open, his hands so close to your thighs but his touch is gentle. You struggle to remember a moment shared with a guy that was this intimate and sweet. This, you think, is why you don't want to just fuck him because every time you touch or speak, you know it's so much more than sexual chemistry, it's something you dreamt of but never thought available to you. 

Eddie leans over to tug the zip and guide it down your calf, he does it painstakingly slow to savour how your soft skin feels under his rough fingertips. He lets the first boot drop to the floor then moves onto the next leg, once your foot is finally free, you wiggle your toes and grin at him. The way your eyes twinkle at him as you peer up at his hovering figure makes him feel sick like he's eaten too much sweets, your leg is still propped against his hip and his hand is caressing the bare calf. Everything about you is warming and inviting in a way Eddie has never experience before. He cannot help himself as he bends a little further and dots a kiss on your knee. He's not sure why he does it, he just felt drawn to make more contact with you, like your bodies are magnets. There's no second to doubt himself as when he looks up, your hand is reaching out and tucking a curly strand behind his ear and then withdraws, brushing gently against his cheek. You then move your hand to take his, still on your thigh and tug him onto the bed. 

The motel bed squeaks as he climbs on, you both get comfortable, lying on your sides, propped up on your elbows to look at each other. You pick at the snacks between you, squishing a marshmallow before popping it in your mouth. Eddie smiles endearingly at your marshmallow filled cheeks all puffed, he squishes them by cupping your face and laughs. 

‘Like a cute little hamster.’ 

You grin and start to chew as you get more out the pocket and shove them into Eddie’s laughing mouth. 

‘Don't mock me Edward,’ you chide and he's forced to eat the marshmallows, 'but you can call me cute again.’

Marshmallowy teeth grin at you, ‘Oh, I’ll call you cute as often as you like, sweetheart.’ 

You're both completely comfortable with each other now in a way no strangers can be unless they were destined to cross paths. His full name doesn't fill him with dread when it falls out of your mouth and his ‘sweetheart’ makes you feel like going by the nickname for the rest of your life. The rest of your life. You don't want to move on with your life right now, scared this is a one off interaction. 

‘Eddie…’ you speak hesitantly, 'I have to leave here in like twelve hours but… I don't want to.’ 

You'd already discussed your lives, both of you living like nomads, travelling where your work told you too so he knows you're here for one night only much to his dismay. 

‘I hate Hawkins,’ he admits, 'but I don't want you to leave either… I don't want to see you disappear off and I can't find you.’ You shuffle closer to each other. 

'You can find me in Chicago for the next week,’ you smile sadly, ‘where will you be?’

Eddie’s schedule now he's done his press tour is fairly open so he considers what he could be doing in the next week. 

'It's ridiculous y’know? I've known you what, like four hours and yet I just wanna say I’ll be wherever you'll be.’

It's a response you hadn't let yourself even dream of, scared of deluding yourself with fairytale romances. You cup his face, letting your thumb brush against his cheek, skimming under his fluttering eyelashes. 

'I feel silly too. But I want you to be wherever I am too.’

The rest of the early hours you continue to reveal every part of your lives to the other. Bonding over the strong solo figures who raised you, your mom and Wayne being your anchors. You console each other of the figures who also abandoned you, both of your dads. Nothing feels off limits and it's hard to believe the gentle man in front of you who can sew and create intricate fantasy worlds and practically adopted a band of teenage boys, is the rockstar you'd seen girls fawning over like he was nothing but a hard-knock sexy symbol. Eventually both of your eyes droop and your breathing matches up as you fall asleep. During the night your hands find each other again and intertwined fingers make sure neither of you can slip away for now. 

When sunlight seeps through lace curtains and awakes Eddie, he naturally goes to stretch his neck but is quick to realise movement is not possible. Tucked right into his neck, is you. Your face buried in the crook of his jaw and collar, he can feel your gentle breath fanning against his skin as your nose is nestled in his jugular. You hands are gripped to Eddie’s and he lets his fingers stroke your knuckles. A sense of pride fills him that you'd unconsciously sought out him for comfort in the night, your touch and relaxed nature around him feels more rewarding than selling out his hometown last night. He's unable to resist letting his mouth and nose rest on the crown of your head. Your soft hair smells of your perfume mixed with his cigarettes. Gently he lets himself kiss your head and then allows himself to be greedy and dot a couple more but clearly he was overzealous as you begin to stir. 

Blinking sleep away, you open your eyes only to find your eye line is obstructed by the view of Eddie’s bobbing Adam's apple. For a moment you worry, a panic sets in telling you this how plenty of girls wake up with him only to never see him again but the panic is melted away by a tender kiss on your head. No, you remind yourself, this is not how normal one night stands go, for one they usually involve sex. Your night had consisted of longing stolen touches, confessions and life stories. This was more and you smile into Eddie’s neck. 

‘Morning Ed,’ your sleepy voice groans. The nickname makes his heart swell and in response he clutches you tighter. 

'Morning sweetheart, sleep well?’ 

Even though you hadn't actually slept that many hours due to your late night, it was still the best sleep you'd had in a long time. The first time you hadn't felt lonely, Eddie's presence comforting you in a way few ever had. You bury yourself further into his warm skin that smells like cigarettes and cinnamon and a natural Eddie-ness. 

'Really well,’ you confess, 'I think you helped.’

Eddie lifts your chin so he can look at you properly, your eyes are soft and sleepy, mascara a little smudged but your cheeks are pink and you're the best view he's ever seen in a morning. 

‘Oh thanks, did I bore you to sleep?’ He chuckles as he pokes your cheek. You're too sleepy still for sarcasm and you like him too much to let him worry, you can hear a slight self doubt in his voice.

‘Noo,’ you pout, 'just you. Comfy and warm. Help me settle. Wish you could be in my bed always. Sleep a lot better then.’ 

His hands brush your hair out of your face, he wants to remember this sleepy loving look you give him. 

‘I couldn't say no, if you asked me to stay in your bed always.’ 

After allowing yourselves a little longer in each other's embrace, Eddie suggests getting breakfast at the café next door. You stuff your feet into some trainers as he laces his boot and as you leave the motel, you feel Eddie drape his leather jacket over your shoulders. You snuggle into it, letting his smell take you over, you have nothing to offer in return except your hand. So you hold his and they fit together naturally. You both enjoy the feeling of the others fingers stroking as you walk over to get food. 

Over platefuls of greasy food, Eddie watches as you plot your journey from Hawkins to Chicago. The red dotted lines you mark just highlighting the distance that will be between you. Your nose and eyebrows are scrunched in concentration as you analyse routes as you chew syrupy waffles. Eddie wishes he could kiss off the syrup that lingers on the corner of your mouth but doesn't want it to be the first time he finally kisses you. He's been thinking about it since he saw you but didn't want to stop the chat between you. 

‘Here!’ You jab at the map, 'that's where I'm staying in Chicago.’ 

Eddie swivels the map round so he can look. Corroded Coffin had visited a few times now, he recognises the area and lets his eyes seek out what he hopes is there. His finger jabs this time,

‘There! That's a good venue. We played before. It's just round the corner from you… maybe Corroded Coffin can play an impromptu gig next week with absolutely no ulterior motive.’ You laugh and take back your map but when you look up at Eddie, his face is completely sincere. 

'Are you serious?’ You question.

'Deadly,’ Eddie nods, 'I… I don't want to just let you disappear. I can't explain it just yet but y’know, Y/N, this isn't normal right? I don't just feel like this around people I've known less than twenty four hours, do you?’ 

You shake your head, ‘No, Eddie, I don't. It's just you. I really want to see you again. Shit, I was panicking all night that this was a one off, worried I'd just never seen you again except on tv.’

He sighs a breath of relief, 'thank fuck, sweetheart. I was doing the same, was ready to pay The Hideout owner to lock us in.’ 

You laugh and throw an strawberry his way, he picks it up and munches grinning. Yeah, he thinks, wherever this girl goes I’m going to follow her. 

Eddie loads your car as you check out, you'd forewarned him about the potential squealing receptionist who would ask a thousand questions and he thought it was best to avoid. When you meet him back at the car he opens the door for you but you can't bring yourself to be separated yet. Instinctively you both wrap your arms around each other and hug, clinging to the comfort you had now found and didn't want to let go of. 

'There's a real nice restaurant near your hotel too, Y/N. Gonna let me take you on a first date, sweetheart?’ 

You smile into his chest, 'sleepover and the first date? I think we did it all wrong.’ 

His hands brushing through your hair now you look face to face he smirks, ' I think whatever we'd been doing before yesterday was wrong and this is all right.’ 

Once you're in the car you realise you still have on his leather jacket and you go to shrug it off but Eddie’s hand comes through the window to stop you. 

‘Keep it, for now. Now you know I’ll definitely come to you because if anything, I’ll need that back.’ You grin at each other and you peck his hand gently like he did your knee last night. You hope next time you see him, you'll manage the lips, Eddie is thinking the same thing. As the car stirs into life and you drive off, neither of you look away from your view of the other until you disappear completely behind those lurking Hawkin’s trees. 

‘And yeah,’ you laugh ‘he kept his promise. A surprise Corroded Coffin gig happened in Chicago the next week.’ 

Eddie kisses your cheek, ‘hell yeah, to this day I don't think I ever wanted to play a gig so bad. But yup, got my jacket,’ Eddie tugs at the leather jacket he now wears, 'and got the love of my life.’ The interviewer can't help but feel a little choked up and in awe of your story. They watch as you and Eddie gaze adoringly at each other, it's not a state you tend to see rockstars in but it seems Eddie Munson breaks the toxic stereotypes built up by decades of a male dominated music industry. Your love story feels too personal for them to actually report, the interviewer just feels lucky to have been privy to such a beautiful story and they decide to keep it that way. 

[oneforthemunny]

pieces of you and me |dad!rockstar!eddie munson x nepo baby!reader|

prompt: your six daughters with eddie are named after the places they're conceived. fluffy little piece I had about nepo baby!reader and rockstar!eddie and their lives as parents, more specifically how they named each of their girls.

contains: mature, sexual themes not graphic but still 18+, minors dni. mom!nepo baby!reader x dad!rockstar!eddie throughout the years.

June 1993 - Corfu Beach, Greece

Your wedding ring dazzled in the Greek sunshine, bright and clear, almost as reflective as the waters in front of you. Corfu Beach was the first stop on your honeymoon trips, after three wedding ceremonies.

The tabloids had gone rabid when you'd announced that your weddings- plural- would be spread out from May to June. Three ceremonies, extravagant but intimate. The first in Palm Springs, an estate near the San Jacinto mountains with just your family. You and Eddie were both only children, the ceremony was sweet and short, an officiant, your parents and grandparents, Wayne and his girlfriend, and the two of you. A silk, slip white dress, custom made by Donatella herself just for you. Eddie wore a tux, the sweetheart, choking back sobs when he read you his vows, promises for your life together. You'd danced under the strung lights, Forever by the Beach Boys, his hand on your back, holding you sweetly. Your private photographer, a family friend, made sure to capture all the intimate sweet moments for you, and it was secluded with no worries of paparazzi.

Then you'd jetted off to Las Vegas, sin city as a couple. Eddie had taken the liberty of renting out Elvis' Little Chapel just for the two of you, hiring the best Elvis and photographer. You'd wore a tiny, leather white dress, garter showing on your thigh. Eddie in an Elvis suit, white just for you. Your friends dressed their part, his band mates, friends from Hawkins, and yours from Beverly Hills and others joined. You didn't remember most of the night, giggling when the Elvis impersonator read you your vows in the mimicking voice. It was a blur, champagne, liquor, and drugs in a penthouse suite at the Palms. You'd woken up a little sick, veil still in your hair and aching between your thighs, ass covered in welts from the night before. Eddie had managed to find a heart shaped paddle on the strip, using it on you when you got back from the 'reception' that was in the other room, where your friends were scattered still.

Lastly, you finished in Paris. Eddie wanted it just to be the two of you, an officiant, and the city of love. He'd gone all out, his vows seemed to triple in size from the first ceremony. Tucked away in a Parisian Chateau that had a stunning view of the Eiffel Tower in the backdrop, Eddie poured his heart out to you, vulnerable and raw. You both sobbed through your vows, heavy with emotion that pored out with each word, kissing each other before the officiant ever gave you the signal.

Now you were here, Greece. The beaches were beautiful, the wine delicious, and the waters stunning. Eddie had rented a small boat for the two of you, drifting off the coast of the secluded resort you were staying at. You were thankful for the intimacy, relaxing in the warm sun, topless, the true European experience.

"I think we should do this more often," Eddie grinned, blocking the sun from your view, standing tall over you.

You shielded your eyes, looking up at him. The sun haloed around his curls, his inked skin a little pinkish from the rays. He looked angelic.

"I think you just like to see me topless." You smirked.

"I think you'd be right." Eddie scoffed, kneeling down between your legs on the towel. "Can you blame me? Look at them." He squeezed your boobs lightly. "My girls. All mine, forever."

You let out a soft laugh, his lips ghosting over yours, fingers rubbing your pebbled nipples between the two of you. He kissed you slow, sweet, taking his time to truly taste you, feel you.

He was between your legs before you knew it, his cock splitting you open, harsh thrusts that left the small boat rocking and shifting with the waves. You'd gotten on top, hips swiveling and rocking with every rise and fall, his hands gripping your hips harsh.

You two spent the day like that, him filling you up raw, pumping his release deep inside of you, leaving you dripping him for the rest of the day on shaky legs.

The thrill of the ceremonies, of the honeymoons, of being hopelessly, completely in love with Eddie had your head spinning. You were still on the high of the first two ceremonies when you'd left for Paris, forgetting your birth control on the counter of the Hills home.

It wasn't until nearly a month later, when you finally returned, still in bliss and the rush of that newly wed feeling, that you realized. Staring at the silver packet that mocked you. You hoped that maybe you'd be lucky, maybe your body was just adjusting from jet lag and the different time zones. You were dehydrated from your time in Europe, maybe that was it.

A month later, you sat in the gynecologist office, the wand pressed over your belly, showing the small blip on the screen, Eddie's ringed hand tight in yours. "Looks like you're about seven weeks along, Mrs. Munson." The doctor said, looking over at you.

Eddie's eyes shined at you, teary and wide. You were both scared, overwhelmed. "Greece." He muttered. "It must've been our honeymoon, shit- well, that makes sense."

Persephone June Munson was born February 17th, 1994.

November 1994 - London, England

"Christ, fuck, it's cold." Eddie grumbled, hands buried deep in his leather jacket, air fogging around him.

You snorted, rolling your eyes. "That's why I told you to bring a jacket." You hummed, Burberry plaid scarf whipping in the harsh winds. You held Persephone closer to your chest, she was bundled up in her hat and scarf under your own heavy jacket, but you still worried she'd still be cold.

At ten months old, she was the spitting image of her daddy. Eddie's twin through and through, shining brown eyes that were so expressive and little chocolate curls that were starting to spiral on the ends of the tufts of downy, baby hair. She was your kryptonite, your little angel, for both of you.

Parenthood fit you both very well, to the surprise of nearly all the media. You and Eddie navigated being parents like you did anything else, head first and a little stubborn. After many sleepless nights, parenting books, and the help of your own parents, you'd finally felt accomplished. Eddie didn't want to miss a second of being a dad, and you couldn't blame him, not when the most precious creation on the Earth was looking back at you.

The tour and Corroded Coffin's album had been pushed, finally releasing in September. Eddie knew he'd have to tour soon, the two of you were still working out if you'd stay or go, but when he'd been asked to play at a concert in Wembley Stadiums, headlining with Metallica and Ozzy and all the legends he'd looked up to, he couldn't turn it down.

Now, the three of you were walking down South Kensington in London, heading towards the Natural History Museum with your baby- oh, how times had changed. Eddie smirked, stepping closer to you, looking down your jacket.

"Can she breathe in there? Is she alright?" Eddie asked, eyes scanning the two of you. All he could see of little Persephone was the little pink poof that sat on top of her hat, bobbing and hitting your chin with every step.

"She's fine, aren't you Sephy?" You cooed down at her, pulling your jacket back. Eddie looked down, melting at the brown eyes that stared back at him, chubby cheeks a little red from the warmth of your jacket. "Say, quit worrying daddy, mama's got me." You mimicked a high pitched baby voice that had her giggling.

Eddie grinned, pulling you close to him, his lips pressing a sloppy, wet kiss to your cheek. The security in front of you and behind you followed closely, one holding the door while you climbed into the room. The guide waited cheerily at the front, excited to take the infamous rockstar on a private tour.

You held Persephone, still in her little hat but your own jacket shedded. Eddie watched you, how you'd coo sweetly at her, pressing kisses into her little cheeks, swaying with her when the guide would explain the areas.

Eddie felt his heart swell, boasting and filling with love and pride, and something else. Something primal and deep and lustful. It was different from before. Usually the type of thrill that came with drugs, performing for thousands, then having groupies throw themselves at his feet. Now, he felt it deep in his chest, the protectiveness he had over you, over Sephy, his little family.

"You think she'd stay down for a nap if we take her back to the hotel?" Eddie growled low in your ear, teeth nipping at your lobe playfully.

You swatted him away, rolling your eyes. "I doubt it." You gave him a pointed look. "She has like a sixth sense for when were about to fuck." You snorted playfully, looking down at your little baby.

Eddie gave a soft smile, taking Persephone from your arms, snuggling her tight in his arms. She giggled, reaching to grab onto his curls. You grinned when she did, yanking them down hard, pulling at the scalp. Eddie hissed, moving his head with her to alleviate some of the pull. "Easy, easy, sweetheart," He muttered, opening her little fists.

You told him a million times to put his hair up around her. She was going through a grabbing stage. Anything and everything. The two of you had to re-baby proof the house when she'd started crawling, her tiny hands grabbing onto anything and everything she could.

"She's got a fucking iron grip." Eddie grunted, pulling his scalp back, tossing his hair over his shoulders. He knitted his brows, looking down at Persephone playfully. "Don't you? You're just a strong lil thing aren't ya?" He cooed, excitedly, bouncing her in his arms.

You smiled at her little giggles, the faintest crease in her chubby cheeks, hinting that she'd inherit dimples like her daddy. You shouldn't be surprised at this point, she was Eddie's twin, but it still made you a little jealous every time a new feature came in and it was a carbon copy of him.

"The next one will look just like ya, babe." Eddie would wink when you'd huff to him about it. "If not, we can just keep trying and trying and trying 'til one looks like ya." He always said it like he was joking, but the way his eyes darkened, you wondered if he truly was.

Persephone had gone down easily for her nap, and you were thankful. You figured she was still exhausted from the flight. You'd flown private with the band, your parents insisted on it, which benefited the two of you more than anyone else. Her little ears hurt from the pressure, whimpering and sobbing in the little bedroom on the back of the plane while you and Eddie tried to soothe her.

Eddie had gone for a soundcheck with the band, leaving you at the hotel with Sephy, unwinding in the cool linens of the hotel. You ran your hand down the bed, gnawing at your bottom lip. The last time you'd been at this hotel in London, it was with Eddie, but very differently. The two of you had just begun... whatever you wanted to call the relationship. You'd flown out on a red eye to London when he started his European tour, letting him fuck you hard and mean, tying you up to the headboard and having his way with you.

Now, you had a baby, you were married, and life was so different.

The door clicked shut, locking gently. Eddie could hear the sound machine, white noise that washed out the busy streets below next to the crib. You held your finger to your lips, nodding towards Persephone, who napped in her little portable crib.

Eddie smiled lovingly, looking over the edge of her crib. He climbed into the bed with you, gently laying down beside you. "She been asleep long?" He whispered.

You shook your head, your nose touching his. "Just a few minutes. I fed her and she was exhausted." You smiled, hands running over his shirt, down his arms. He perked up at the movement. "I think we have some time if you want to..." You bit your lip suggestively.

Eddie's eyes flicked from you back to the crib. "Here?" He whispered, ringed finger pressing into the bed.

You rolled your eyes. "We can go in the bathroom." You nodded to the spacious bathroom on the other side of the room. "Just be quiet."

Eddie grinned wide, letting you pull him by his hand towards the bathroom. "You be quiet," He whispered, pressing the door closed softly. "You're always the one screaming."

You rolled your eyes, wiggling your pants off. "Just hurry up." You huffed, tossing your discarded clothes to the ground, bending over the counter.

Eddie grinned, dropping to his knees. He pulled the lacy little thong off, smirking at your choice of panties. "Let me taste you first," Eddie rasped, ringed hands pulling your cheeks apart, revealing your slick puffy lips. He nearly drooled. "'S been too long, baby, let me have a taste."

You bit down on the back of your hand hard, smacking the faucet on, hoping the steady water stream would muffle your whimpers that escaped while Eddie devoured you over the counter. Miraculously, Sephy stayed asleep while Eddie pounded you hard, hips snapping against yours, holding you up to look at you through the mirror, hand around your neck.

He had more adrenaline after that, seeing his cum drip and spill out of your sopping hole. He pushed it back in with his pointer finger, smirking when you whimpered, collapsed over the vanity, cheek pressed to the marble countertop of the bathroom.

Four weeks later, you were sure you'd caught a virus. Stomach lurching and exhausted beyond belief.

Eight months later, that 'virus' was crowning, pushing out of you while you swore and threatened Eddie.

Kensington Klein Munson was born on August 3rd, 1995.

February 1998 - Milan, Italy

You'd been reluctant to go. You knew getting invited to Fashion Week in Milan was a big deal, especially since your long time friend was showcasing his line there, fresh new styles curated for the runway.

"Button, just go," Your mother sighed. "Daddy and I have it covered. We've raised a baby before, and look at you, you turned out just divine."

Still, you were hesitant to leave. You never left your babies often, hating the feeling- it was one you knew all too well. It was only a few days after Persephone's birthday, it felt too soon. And Kensington was going through a particularly nasty clinging stage with you, wailing and sobbing herself to near hyperventilation when you weren't in her sight.

Eddie had coaxed you sweetly, reminding you it's only be for a few days. He knew you didn't want to travel alone, and he too had been invited, so he offered to come with you, leaving your babies with your mom and dad.

You could hardly sit through the plane ride, guilt and nerves making you tight and irritable the entire time.

Eddie pressed sweet kisses into your skin, muttering that it would be ok. You were tense with every passing second. Tense during the pre-show dinner the night before, tight lipped smile and clutching your cell phone tightly. You'd given your hotel number to your parents, and instructed the concierge to forward it to the restaurant immediately if they called.

Even the wine, your favorite from Tuscany, didn't help soothe your nerves. Pouty the whole night, ignoring Eddie's sweet touches. You'd scurried to the phone when they said there was a call for you, nearly knocking over a waitress in the process.

It was your parents calling with the girls, ready to say goodnight. "Oh, Kensie, I know, sweet girl," You cooed sweetly, and Eddie could see your own heart breaking through the phone. "Mama and Daddy will be back so soon, baby angel, I promise."

Eddie rubbed your back soothingly. He could hear Kensie's wails and blubbering over the phone, through the noise of the restaurant. "You're with sissy, and Glammy," You sucked in a breath, fighting an eye roll at your mother's outrageous name she'd chosen for her grand babies to call her. You pulled the phone away, another heart wrenching wail, making your face crumble.

Eddie wrenched the phone out of your grasp lightly, pressing it to his ear. "Is that my sweet Kensie crying?" He cooed lowly into the phone. You pressed closer to hear. Her cries stuttered, shushing temporarily at her father's voice. "That can't be my sweet Kensie crying, is it?"

"It is, dad." Persephone's grumbled voice came from the background. "She hasn't stopped crying." Even at four, she was all attitude. She might have gotten Eddie's look, but he swore she got all your sass.

Eddie bit back a grin. "Sephy, can you hear me too?" He asked. She confirmed. "I need you to be extra sweet to your sister, ok? Mommy and Daddy will be back soon."

"And we'll bring you gifts back if you're good!" You added, yelling into the phone.

Eddie glared at you lightly, rolling his eyes. Persephone seemed excited at the promise. "Kens, Seph, can you both be good for Glammy and Pop-Pop?" His younger self would be raging at the nicknames.

"We'll be good, Daddy, prowmise." Persephone said sweetly through the phone. Eddie's heart swelled.

"Good." He grinned back. "You have good dreams, ok? Call us in the morning." You reached for the phone, pulling it away from his ear.

"Have sweet dreams, my angel babies." You cooed. "Daddy and Mommy love you so much. We miss you so much."

Your mother took the phone, chatting with you for a moment before you hung up, hesitantly, shoulder's deflating in defeat. You looked tired, dull, so unlike yourself. Eddie frowned, his hand circling your waist, pulling you close.

"C'mon," He nodded, pulling you towards the door. "Let's go back to the hotel."

"But-"

"-Tell them I got sick." Eddie shrugged. "I wanna spend some time with you. It's the first night alone we've had in a while."

You smiled gently, wrapping your arms around his torso. He shielded you from the paparazzi, ringed hand shoving cameras when they crowded outside your hotel, shouting at them all the way to the elevator.

When he got you back into the hotel, his hands on your back, smoothing over the fabric of your dress. "You know what we haven't done in a while?" Eddie grinned lightly. You hummed. "You haven't let me tie you up and have my way with you in a while."

Your thighs twitched, pressing together under the dress. "Ed," You let out a breathy sigh, squealing when he pinched the fat of your ass. "Kinda hard to do that when the kids are around."

"Well, the kids aren't around now." Eddie smirked, squeezing and kneading your cheeks. "No one to bother us all week. C'mon..." He was already moving towards you, lips slotting over yours to capture your lips in a sweet kiss, tongue sliding easily into your mouth.

You melted into the kiss, relaxing for the first time since you stepped off the plane. Eddie pulled you closer, fingers splayed out on the small of your back, pressing you farther into him. His lips pulled apart from yours, soft lips pressing into your cheek gently. "C'mon, baby," He rasped into your ear. "Be my good girl."

You perked, eyes meeting his, dark, hungry eyes shining back down at you. You rolled your lips like you were really thinking it over, but your hand was already reaching for your zipper.

"Fine, but only your hand if you spank me." You warned, pointing at him sternly. "We have to sit like all day tomorrow, and I better be able to sit." You glared at him, letting the slinky dress fall to your ankles.

Eddie's grin widened, eyes lighting up with excitement. You smirked, rolling your eyes, climbing on the bed. He fumbled through his bag, pulling out the leather cuffs. You lifted a brow. "So you were planning this?"

Eddie shrugged. "Maybe. Knew we'd be alone. Figured I might as well take advantage of my opportunity." He grinned.

You snorted, rolling on your stomach and letting him cuff you behind your back. Eddie hauled you into his lap, spanking you until your ass blossomed with red splotches and you were crying out. He fucked you hard into the mattress, skin burning and nails raked down his back and shoulder.

You were limping to the show next week, only sitting through your friend's show before disappearing back to the hotel, judgmental looks be damned. Eddie had his way with you the rest of the trip, the two of you refusing to leave the hotel room, fucking hard and nasty like you used to before; before the kids and before the marriage, before you two even liked each other.

You squirmed the entire plane ride home, finding refuge in Eddie's lap while he let you curl up into his chest. You ached between your legs, ass burning, chest littered in hickies you hoped the girls wouldn't see.

Nine months later, you were back in a familiar position, screaming in pain while you pushed out not one, but two babies; twin girls. Eddie nearly fainted at the ultrasound.

Sicily Giselle and Sienna Noelle Munson were born December 1st, 1998.

June 1999 - Sharm El Sheikh, Egypt

It was an anniversary gift, celebrating your wedding date from Farrah. You loved to travel, you and Eddie both, and since you saw the feature on Egypt, you'd wanted to go.

Farrah offered to watch the kids while you and Eddie had a get away, a romantic trip to the beautiful El Fanar Beach. "Just bring me back something nice, ok?" She winked playfully.

Eddie was in paradise, literally. You, him, and a private resort a haven for just the two of you. He'd taken you shopping to the local vendors, and you knew you had to pick up a bottle of perfume. Everyone raved about the fragrance, how decadent and strong it was- one of a kind. You'd fallen in love with one, dousing yourself in it during the trip.

Eddie seemed to like it too, burying his face in your neck, wrists, chest wherever you sprayed it, nuzzling need and sweet into you, inhaling you deeply like he might lose the scent if he didn't. You giggled when he nipped at your neck, loose, flowing linen dress flying around you in the breeze of the balcony.

The water was a gorgeous turquoise, but you hadn't managed to get in it yet. Every time you changed into your swimsuit, Eddie had you crowded around whatever was nearest, bending you over or pushing you against the surface, fucking you deep and slow.

"Ed, please," You whined, his crotch digging mercilessly into you, lips sucking and nipping at the skin of your neck, still raw from earlier. "Please, I-I wanna go to the beach."

"We'll go," Eddie hummed, lips ghosting down your collarbones. "We'll go after, I promise."

"You said that yesterday." You whined, huffing when he toyed with your clit through your swimsuit. "Ed, please-"

"-You just look too good, baby, fuck." Eddie groaned. "Smell too good. They put crack in that perfume. Made you irresistible." He growled, nipping at your ear.

You giggled, relenting when he dropped to his knees, licking you slowly until you were a puddle, sliding down the wall and further onto his tongue, hands gripping his curls.

Eddie went out and bought every bottle they had of that perfume, packing it back over on the plane, his nose still buried deep in your neck.

You blamed the perfume on why you were ringing in the millennium heavily pregnant, sipping soda water instead of champagne with your friends. That damn perfume, but it had a beautiful name, one you passed on to your daughter a month later, saving the original bottle in your safe just for her one day.

Zahra Wayne Munson was born on January 19th, 2000.

March 2007- Las Vegas, Nevada

You felt a little tipsy, stumbling in your stilettos across the marbled floors backstage. It was easier these days to get drunk. Younger you would never believe that you lose your tolerance when you get older, yet here you were thirty-seven, stumbling through The Colosseum at Caesar's Palace.

Corroded Coffin had been retired for years now, since the twins, really. Eddie had agreed to do a few shows, but hung up his guitar, trading it over to be a family man instead. He still dabbled in projects, produced, and some other things to occupy his time, but he wanted to be present with the girls, with you. It shocked the world that the both of you were as dedicated parents as you were.

Now, your oldest was thirteen, your youngest seven. Your little family complete and perfect. You were still reluctant leaving them, even if they were older, but it was a special event. Corroded Coffin live in concert at Caesar's, Eddie couldn't turn it down. And the two of you would never turn down Vegas, no matter how mature you were.

"Hey there, sexy mama." Eddie slurred, drunk and flirty. You giggled, gripping onto this leather clad arm. The show had ended hours ago, the after party raging on into the early morning.

"What're you doin'?" You giggled, watching him grab at your ass, hand ducking under your dress to squeeze your cheeks harsh.

"You just look so fuckin' good baby, goddam," Eddie grinned, swaying with you in his arms. "You're so pretty. So pretty."

You snorted. "You're horny." You grinned, feeling his half hard dick against you.

Eddie rolled his tongue over his cheek. "You're right. Can you blame me? With how good you look?"

You blushed, arms circling around his neck, pulling him closer to you. "I think-I think you look really pretty too." You smiled, nuzzling your nose against the scruff of his cheeks.

He pulled you in closer at the waist, hands still firm on your ass. You knew you were too old to be acting like this, you were parents and adults, you should behave. But you couldn't get enough of him. A little over fifteen years together, five babies, and you still couldn't get enough; that might be why you had the five babies.

"I think," Eddie whispered into your ear. "I think we should go to the bathroom." His eyes lit up suggestively.

"The bathroom?" You asked, giggling.

He was already waltzing you through the crowd, towards the private restrooms in the back. He'd had you already in the dressing room, you dropped to your knees when he came in, sucking him off until he fucked you hard over the table. Just like when you were younger, when everything was new and exciting.

He was insatiable then and still now, that never changed.

The bathroom door clicked with a lock, spacious and extravagant like the rest of the room was. Eddie hoisted you up on the bathroom counter, hands roaming every square inch of your body, needy and slipping under the fabric of your dress. You giggled, throwing your head back on the mirror, letting his fingers work you open.

He pulled your thong down, black lace with 'CC' crocheted on the front; a true artifact, made in 1992 when you went to your first Corroded Coffin concert. He fucked you back stage, and you surprised him with it. Somehow, your panties made their way into the lyric pages of their next CD.

Eddie laughed, holding them up by the band, eyes widening back at you. You blushed, shrugging gently. "Surprise, baby." You giggled. "I thought you'd see them earlier."

Eddie groaned loudly, tying his hair up with the thong before plunging head first between your legs. You squealed and gasped and writhed on the counter, his hands gripping your waist hard holding you into place.

He fucked you in the bathroom, trapping you against the wall, hips snapping into yours while you grabbed at his ass. There was no need for birth control, condoms, or having him pull out. He'd gotten a vasectomy after Zahra, you were done having babies, giving up on having your boy and accepting having all beautiful girls.

Or so you thought.

You returned to Los Angeles with more than just a hangover. The Las Vegas night was truly one you'd never forget, even if you didn't exactly remember everything, because- to both of your surprises, your urine test came back positive.

Vega Jo Munson was born October 29th, 2007.

[edmunsonss]

Okay but like, imagine reader x rockstar! Eddie where you've been trying to break into the music industry for years as a music director/band photographer. You've worked with small bands here and there but are still waiting for your big break when you meet Eddie at a bar on some random night

You're not into metal as much as you were as a teenager, so you don't really recognize him the first time around despite how huge Corroded Coffin are getting. Still, he seems like a nice guy, so you accept his offer of buying you a drink and you chat about all sorts of things, easily hitting it off.

When you start talking about what you do for a living, I can imagine Eddie saying something like: "Oh, cool! I'm actually in a small band!" Because he's modest about it, of course.

And for some reason instead of asking the name of the band, you ask what kind of music they play and Eddie is like !!! because as much as he loves the fact that his dreams came true, he misses the anonymity that came with his life in Hawkins. Though he must admit it's better to be known as the lead singer/guitarist in a metal band than as a cult leader.

You both go your separate ways that night, because you're both big anxious idiots who didn't think to exchange numbers. However, it isn't easy for Eddie to stop thinking about you. Apart from how how gorgeous he thinks you are, and despite not knowing shit about his band, Eddie feels like your creative ideas are pretty in sync with what the band has envisioned.

So, when the band needs to shoot the video for their next big single, Eddie makes his manager look for you and you film and direct the whole thing. He's in such awe (as is the band), that he asks you to stick around and take pictures and videos of them while they go on tour and everything. You basically become like their fifth member and the fans ship you with Eddie because you seem so close and AHHH

[mstigeress37-blog]

Rockstar! Eddie x Model! Reader

Corroded Coffin was selling Merch and hired models to show off the clothes.

You and Eddie were friends from high school, albeit not as close as either of you wished you could be since you were a cheerleader and he was ‘a freak.’

After graduation, you both moved away from Hawkins: Eddie for his band, you for literally anything else.

You were scouted by an agency that hooked you up with Eddie’s band.

You noticed the band name instantly. Even if you didn’t need the extra money, you would have taken it any day.

Eddie thought he was going crazy when he saw you coming out of your car and going into the same building he intended to go into.

Which was even weirder when it looked like he was following you, when, in reality, you were both going to the same room on the same floor.

He ended up losing you, even when he saw you go through the same door. But the studio was huge, so of course, he was going to lose you.

You left the changing room with a hoodie they needed you to wear and that’s when Eddie caught your eye. He still had the same long, curly hair, and the same style, clad in black and silver.

He’d also seen you properly too. You looked the same despite the different hairstyle, going along with the trend. And he couldn't lie, seeing you in his merch did something to him, even if you were paid to wear it.

You’d gone up to him with a smile (of course, you did) and he had greeted you with his flirtatious gaze that you oh, so missed.

The photographer had called you and so, your session had started. You could feel him staring at you the entire way through.

Then the male model came in.

He might as well have been a clone of Eddie except the only difference was the iconic curly hair.

His gaze changed when you had to model with the other man. Yes, it still holds admiration for you, but at this point, he might as well just model with you.

He went up to his manager.

“Ya think I could model a few pics too?” “Of course! We’ll get some solo pictures, maybe a band picture if you want for a poster-” “No, I want them with her.” He points to you.

“Uhh, we can’t just get rid of the guy… He needs to be paid too.” “Then pay him.”

He ends up fighting for one picture with you. But he’s the one paying everyone, so of course he gets pictures with you.

You’re nervous to touch him, which Eddie takes note of - you were all touchy-feely with the other model, why not with Eddie? Then he smirks: you like him.

He breaks down the barrier and touches your waist, keeping you close to him.

(Almost all the pictures are you two touching each other in some way.)

After the photoshoot, Eddie asks to meet up again, giving you his pager. You both test it before you turn around to your car.

“Wait!” 

You turn around.

��Next time we meet up, let’s make it a date, yeah?”

[curiositydooropened]

Hell Hound • Part Two

After a few days spent protecting you, a promising lead is found. Steve is wracked with nightmares. You grow closer.

Pairing: bodyguard!Steve Harrington x photographer!Reader, rockstar!Eddie x Reader

Wordcount: 9,770

Warnings: unrequited love, slowburn, jealousy, angst, hurt/comfort, violence, gore, weapons, fighting, death threats, stalker *This chapter also contains allusions of voyeurism, sex, drinking, recreational drug use, overdose, religious elements

This blog is 18+ only. I do not give permission for any of my fics to be duplicated, reposted, or put into AI. Thank you!

Navigation • Masterlist

---

Moodboard • Fic Masterlist • Part Three [Coming soon]

Robin: Have you told her yet?

“I need to get out.” You said it, slinging your denim jacket over each arm. 

Steve’s breath tasted of your toothpaste, and his hair smelled of your shampoo, and he would’ve gone with you over the border to Canada if you’d asked. 

Instead, you carted him down several flights of stairs and the opposite direction of his car and the gallery and to a little park with a coffee kiosk on the corner. You ordered for him and boxed him out of paying, and you waited in silence, smiles playing on your faces. 

The coffee was good. The coffee was really good. It could have been that it warmed the ache in his spine from scrunching on a sofa that wasn’t long enough for his legs, but Steve knew it was good because you waited expectantly for him to take a sip, eyes wide in wonder and curiosity.

“S’good,” he licked his lips.

Satisfied with his answer, you started off again.

Steve hurried to keep up. “Where’re we going?” 

You smiled and didn’t respond, but slowed your pace to let him fall in step beside you.

Sunlight fell, dappled, through the trees as you walked, and birds chirped, and eventually, you passed through wrought iron gates. The sidewalk grew wider, and with it the distance between the two of you, still at a brisk walk.

“Let’s sit,” you nodded toward a stone bench nearby, and Steve followed you there. 

You set your coffee on the bench beside you and began to dig through your leather bag for your camera and whatever size lens you’d deemed the perfect fit. 

Steve peeled his gaze from the concentration etched into your forehead to glance around, curious of your subject. It wasn’t until then that he realized you’d pulled him into a cemetery. His jaw ached a little. “What uh… what’re we doing here?” 

You shrugged, a sly smile curling peachy pink lips. You nodded behind him. “Saw those lattice roses last week, wanted to get them in softer lighting.” 

Behind him, curling their way up stone and iron fencing, were peachy pink roses. A few had seen better days, petals gathering at the base of the wall, but more were reaching skyward, bloomed and beautiful and delicate.

“How do you do it?” Steve asked, regretting his word choice immediately when you turned to flash him a cocked eyebrow. “I mean, how do you know what to capture?” 

You shrugged, snapped a few, glanced at the display on the back of your camera. “I don’t think it’s a conscious thing. If you hunt for something, you’ll never find it.”

Steve hummed, took another drink of coffee. He wondered what Robin’d say to that philosophy. Sounds like your love life, dingus. He rolled his eyes. “What about these roses?” 

You tilted your head, snapped a few more, looked at the display again. “It’s a little about anticipation. I knew these roses would wilt. I knew a storm was coming in, and that usually batters them. Fresh flowers in a cemetery doesn’t tell a story.” 

God, you really were perfect, weren’t you?

You were annoyed at whatever the view finder was showing you, and even that was cute. 

You must have felt him watching because you glanced up and immediately pulled your camera in front of your face and started clicking away. “And what about you, Steve Harrington?” You smirked. “What is your story?”

Steve stiffened and dropped his other leg to the ground, sneakers grinding into dead leaves on the asphalt. 

You laughed and swept his insecurities away. “Quit being weird,” you snorted. “Just talk to me.”

“About what?” He couldn’t help but smile, trying to ignore the gentle click, click, click of the shutter. 

You looked at the view finder and seemed as displeased as you were with the roses. You took a few steps back and got down on one knee, shooting up at him.

Self-conscious, Steve crossed an arm over his chest.

“Stop it,” you scolded, eyes bright, smiling playing on your lips. “Tell me about your life outside of this.” You gestured vaguely to his person and snapped a few more shots. 

You snickered at the frown he pulled.

“You know like, outside of being a bodyguard slash private investigator slash Tour Mom. Are you close with your family? Does your girlfriend miss having you around?” 

Steve sunk a little further into the bench, letting a breath burst from puffed cheeks. He ran his thumb along the perforated ridge of his cup’s sleeve. “Uh no and no… um… no girlfriend.”

You looked up at him then with the same pity and sadness he felt in the depths of his person.

He tried to hide behind his drink, wishing there was something stronger in his cup.

“Oh my God, Steve, I’m so sorry. Eddie didn’t tell me. You and Robin broke up?”

He sputtered around the sting in his nostrils and wiped at coffee that splattered and stained his pants. “Robin isn’t… no. I mean, she’s drop dead gorgeous and like the second best person I know, but no.” He shook his head, frantically. The amount of women that left him because of his relationship with Robin was honestly astounding, but he never imagined he’d have to explain it to you.

You sucked your cheeks in to shut yourself up and squinted, trying to decipher his ramblings. 

He blanched. “Robin’s gay.” 

You blinked for a moment and then barked a laugh. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry. You just… you and Eddie talk about her so much, I just figured…” 

Steve nodded. He understood. “I get it, but nope. We’re just best friends.”

Your laughter slowed to something softer, and he could have sworn he felt something spark in your gaze, in the way your lashes fluttered.

You snapped another photo and seemed satisfied with what you found in the display. You turned the camera his direction to see.

Sunlight haloed around him, roses climbing the walls behind his head, out of focus. He looked comfortable. He looked hopeful. A soft small was etched across his features, and he looked madly and irrevocably in love. 

“Blue’s your color.” You commented, detaching your lens and packing your things away.

—

Cheap hangers screeched against metal racks, and you pulled another blouse with 80s shoulder pads and held it up. 

Steve made a face. 

You conceded and replaced it on its rack and kept pushing. 

He’d followed you all day, through the cemetery and back through your neighborhood. You tugged on the passenger’s side door handle of his car until it was unlocked, and you’d given him street-by-street instructions on where to go. 

You’d inquired about half-a-million things about his life, none of which he was happy to share, but all of which he’d share again if it meant seeing your face light up the way it did when he rolled his eyes.

You found a thrift store along the route and insisted you’d pick an outfit for him if he picked one for you, and he leisurely followed you down each aisle, turning down anything and everything made of satin and silk and printed in florals. 

“I really shouldn’t let you peak,” you informed him finally, hand on your hip. 

He opened his mouth to protest, but you waved him off. 

“Women’s is over there.” You spouted your size. “Don’t make me look ugly.” 

He couldn’t if he tried.

With a sigh, he turned to tackle the circular women’s racks. He wondered if he should pull something in your favorite color, or a color that complimented your eyes the same way the peachy pink lipstick did. 

His phone buzzed in his pocket. 

Eddie: How’s my girl doing?

My girl. Steve’s heart sunk. He glanced back up at you, arms already teeming with bright yellows and forest greens. He couldn’t believe he’d let himself get lost in today, that he’d forgotten why he was here with you. It wasn’t because you’d asked, it was because he was being paid to keep an eye on you, to ensure your safety.

At that moment, a young man approached you. Steve stiffened and took a handful of strides closer to get a better look and a better listen.

“Is that a camera bag?” He asked. “Very cool.” 

His earring jangled beneath a curly blonde mullet: a hipster type. He wore a white tank top and Levis, and his blue eyes darted between you and the clothing rack and back again. 

Steve bristled.

“Okay,” the kid spoke again. “This is going to sound like… really weird, but I think I’m following you.”

You looked back up at him, wide-eyed and arms full, but managed a smile and a thank you. There was something else though. Steve saw the way you were looking at the guy, saw the way fear sparked in your features when the kid reached into his back pocket for something - his phone. Suddenly, frantically, you were looking around the store.

“On instagram? I just wanted to say I think your work is incredible.”

Steve was two steps ahead. He swung his arm around your shoulders and brought you in tight, pressing his lips to your temple. “Sorry, babe, the line to the bathroom was surprisingly long. What’d you find me? Oh, who’s this?”

You stiffened before sinking into him, gesturing to the stranger with his phone out. “Steve, he was just telling me he’s a fan of my work. Isn’t that great?”

Steve plastered on a grin and nodded. “She is incredible, isn’t she?” 

The kid nodded and put his phone down, features pulled tight in an awkward smile. “Absolutely.” 

“You have excellent taste,” Steve glanced down the kid’s body for any sign of a weapon. He extended a hand. “What’s your name, bro?”

You were frozen in your spot. Steve could feel your pulse against his side. 

The guy eyed you warily before shaking your guard dog’s hand. “Billy Hargrove.” 

“Good to meet you, Billy.”

Billy nodded, though now his expression had pulled into a frown, seemingly a bit miffed to have been interrupted. He straightened his shoulders and turned his focus solely on you. “I really just wanted to say congrats on the gallery opening.”

“Thank you,” your voice came out in a flush of air, and Steve released his hold on you, worried he was squeezing the air from your lungs. 

“Good meeting you both, I guess,” Billy shot Steve a look. “I’ll let you get back to it.” 

When he left, you deposited armfuls of clothing to the top of the nearest rack. It teetered under the weight. 

Steve bent to catch your gaze, but your face was stoic.

You adjusted the strap of your camera bag and sighed. “Pizza? I’m starving.”

—

1 Voicemail

Steve, it’s Hop. Yeah, William Hargrove does have a couple of priors: B&E and a little GTA, but he was a minor. It’s a good lead. I’ve got Callahan heading down to ask him a few questions. Stay safe. Let me know if anything else happens. Stay sharp.

Steve sighed and reentered the small pizzeria.

The pizza lay steaming, untouched in front of you. You sat against a red brick wall, chewing on a thumbnail and scrolling through something on your phone.

As he approached, he could just make out the blurry mirror selfies of a douchebag in a backwards baseball cap. He had a skull tattoo on one bicep and had a difficult time keeping his tongue in his mouth. 

Steve cleared his throat, and you locked your phone, screen going black. “Everything okay?”

He pulled out the seat across from you and made about shelving gooey pizza onto each of your plates. 

You hummed, but your gaze remained far off, staring at something written in chalk on the menu over his shoulder. 

He tugged a handful of napkins from the dispenser and placed one in his lap before passing another to you. Then, he lifted the drooping piece of pizza high enough to manage one scalding bite. Instantly, it torched the roof of his mouth, and his eyes watered in his swallow.

He supposed the pain was worth the uptick he found at the corners of your mouth. 

“I was letting it cool,” you explained. 

He nodded and chugged some iced soda until a burp pushed its way up his esophagus. He hid that behind a fist and pounded a little at the burn in his chest, but again, it was worth it to see your eyes sparkle like that.

“Don’t move,” you said, reaching into the bag beside you.

Steve froze, as instructed, fingers dangling greasy above his plate.

You camera covered your face, massive lens encroaching in his space in what he knew couldn’t be a flattering angle, but he felt himself melt when he heard your chuckle behind the viewfinder.

“Lemme see,” he said.

You cocked a brow, but flipped the camera to show him the image.

He had a string of cheese on his chin, which he scrambled to wipe off, and the image taken made it look like he had two floppy ears and a long, wagging tail. Frowning, he turned to find a golden retriever had been chalked to the wall directly behind him. 

He snorted and wiped his hands on the napkin in his lap. “Glad I can amuse you.”

You nodded, putting your camera away. “Very much.”

A notification lit up your phone. The background was an image of the gallery bustling with people. Steve spotted himself in the foreground, arms crossed, head thrown back in laughter. He remembered speaking with the woman beside him about her kids’ art projects. One had brought home a macaroni necklace the cat ate.

Another notification dinged. Instagram.

Steve glanced up to see you stiffen in your chair. “What’s wrong?” 

You blinked, shrugged, plastered on a smile that didn’t meet your eyes. “Nothing. All good.” You dove in to your pizza.

Seeing you hadn’t managed to burn your own mouth, Steve ventured another go. He couldn’t taste much.

The two of you ate in silence, some catchy pop tune absorbing into the brick walls surrounding you both. Your phone continued to light up with notifications, and Steve felt his own buzz in his pocket a few times.

“So,” you said around a mouthful, “tell me something else about you, Steve.”

“Like what?” He wiped at his cheeks with a new napkin.

Before you could pose a question, the song changed overhead to one distinctly familiar. Heavy drums and masterful guitar playing filled the little pizzeria.

That killer smile spread across your features again, and your head began to bob along to the track. You pulled a pepperoni from your slice, stretching the cheese with it, and popped it between slick lips, licking your fingertips.

“How did you and Eddie meet?”

Steve licked his teeth clean and dished you both another slice. “At a party, through a mutual friend.”

You rolled your wrist for him to elaborate, taking another large bite.

He shrugged and peeled a rogue pepperoni from the tray. “We have this friend name Chrissy Cunningham.”

“The cam girl?” You dropped your pizza.

Steve warmed under your gaze, wishing he could read your mind. He wondered how much information to tell you, wondered what might spook you, wondered what Eddie had undoubtedly already let slip. 

He cleared his throat and picked at some rogue cheese on the plate. “So, Chrissy invited me to this house party, and it was in his huge ass house way out in the suburbs, and there were all of these famous people there, like so many I couldn’t even process it. It felt like I was in my television, like MTV growing up.”

You smiled and nodded, taking a sip of your soda.

“And there was this asshole from Corroded Coffin coked out of his mind -” Steve stopped himself. He wasn’t sure if Eddie had told you about the Coke Years.

You cocked a brow, leaning forward, seemingly intrigued by this salacious story.

Steve swallowed his words and leaned a little on his elbows. “Anyway, we got in a fight.”

“Like a fist fight?” Your eyes went wide.

Steve nodded. He could still feel the satisfying crunch of Eddie’s teeth before the lanky ass guitarist hit the ground. “I used to fight a lot. Daddy issues.” 

You laughed at that, a barked sound that sent his heart racing.

He smiled and shrugged. “Anyway, he got my number from Chrissy and called me the next day to tell me I was hired.”

“He didn’t ask?” You frowned. 

Steve shrugged, picked up a new slice to take a bite. “Eddie Munson has a way of getting what he wants.”

You hummed and glanced down at your phone as another notification illuminated the screen. 

“I sometimes think he’s just a curator of really great people,” Steve said, tilting his head to catch your gaze. 

You smiled at that and took another slice of pizza from the tray. “He told me you saved his life.”

Steve could still smell the mix of sweat and cigarettes that clung to his clothes, could still feel the clammy cold skin of his friend’s cheeks, could still feel his fingers hit the back of the other boy’s throat. 

His phone buzzed in his pocket. 

The bodyguard set down his pizza and wiped his hands on his napkin before answering.

“Hello?”

“Steve? It’s Powell. That Hargrove kid was acting shady so Callahan took him in. It’s looking good that he might be our guy, but just to be safe, is there anywhere you can take her tonight, just in case?”

Steve watched you watch him from across the table. “Yeah, yeah I could take her to mine.”

—

Steve hoped you hadn’t felt this vulnerable when unlocking your own door and pushing it open to let him in.

The moment he followed you over the threshold to his apartment, he second-guessed everything he owned.

The place was a wreck of pizza boxes piled near the front door. The whisky bottle Robin had bought him was next to an open, but dead laptop. He really had just up and abandoned everything when you called.

“This is it,” he introduced the space, feeling itchy under your scrutiny while you looked around.

His leather couch had a Joyce-crocheted blanket tossed over the back. He was grateful for the coffee table books gifted and stacked neatly where they belonged. Quickly, he crunched the open bag of chips left in the seam of the couch and stuffed it into an overflowing snack cabinet.

“I like it,” you nodded, taking a few steps forward to the window, gesturing for permission. “How’s your view?”

He shrugged, scratched at the back of his head. “Not great. Big buildings and fire escapes.”

“There’s beauty in that.” You smiled, slipping the blinds open to peer through.

Light spilled in, caressing your cheekbones and shining through your hair.

“Yeah, I suppose you’re right.”

If Robin were here, she’d kick him.

You hummed, satisfied by what you found, and turned to face him. “Mind if I use your bathroom?”

His bathroom was worse than he thought. He scrambled to scoop dried toothpaste from the sink and re-roll toilet paper that had gone rogue. Not one, but three sets of boxer-briefs were discarded on a navy blue rug. Thank God Robin had reminded him to scrub the toilet before she came to visit.

“Smells like you in here,” you mumbled from the hallway as you swapped spaces.

Steve warmed.

“Your aftershave,” you said with mischief in your eyes. “Give me a minute?”

Bumbling like an idiot, he gave you space and wandered down the hall to him room, once again scrambling to pick up piles of clothes.

Steve: We’re at my apartment. Why didn’t you tell me how disgusting I am?

Robin: I do every time I’m there, dingus. When’s the last time you had a girl over?

Steve: Please don’t make me feel worse.

Dirty dishes went from the nightstand to the sink, and he made about loading his little dishwasher. The kitchen was easy to tidy in piles. Luckily the garbage didn’t smell too bad.

After a long, quiet while, he glanced up from his phone to find the bathroom open and abandoned. Dim light splashed into the hall from his room. With a frown, he toed down the hall to find you admiring photos pinned to a cork board above his dresser. 

“Can I help you?”

You shrugged and smiled. “I showed you mine.”

He wondered if you found his bedroom to suit him as much as yours had suited you. He glanced around at a plaid duvet, lightweight curtains, the baseball bat he kept at his bedside. 

“Is this Robin?” You tapped your fingertips to a polaroid of him and his best friend, faces squished in smiles. 

He nodded.

“She’s pretty.”

He nodded again, shoving his hands in his pockets to avoid the temptation to tangle his fingers with yours. “She’s single if you’re looking.” 

“I just might be,” you shot him a sly look.

Steve warmed at the idea, a challenge stirring under his ribs. 

“What’s on this?” Your hand found the SD card. “Top secret files? Blackmail?”

Heart racing now, he shrugged. “You tell me. It’s yours.”

You frowned back at him.

Cat’s out of the bag now. “You gave it to me at the hometown after party.”

You played with the tiny card in your hand for a moment. “You were supposed to give it back.” 

Steve’s mouth went dry, he shook his head. “I’m sorry, I must have pulled it out of my pocket and forgot it was there.” 

You shook your head and looked up at him. “No, at the party. You were supposed to come find me at some point. Did I… was it not obvious?”

His pulse thundered in his head.

You just blinked back at him, expressionless like you hadn’t just confirmed everything he’d been doubting for months now.

His mouth just hung open like an idiot until he rubbed some feeling back into his face and willed himself closer

You continued to weigh the SD card in each of your hands, and he held his breath as you inched nearer. Your boots rested between his sneakers. “When you had me sign that NDA - “

Steve’s phone rang in his back pocket, a loud ringtone that came with the device that he hadn’t heard since he bought the thing. He must have accidentally taken it off silence when he was doing the dishes. 

Cursing, he pulled it out to see an unknown number. He slid the answer button. “Hello?”

“Stevie? It’s Lizzie!” A familiar voice cooed from the other line, a little scattered, a little broken. “Where the hell are you?”

Steve stared back down at you, breath heavy in his chest. “I’m in Chicago. Where are you?”

“Backstage with this fucker who tells me he’s met the love of his life. Is that true? And if that’s the case, where are you? I need a good cock to sit on.” A hair-raising cackle preceded a shuffle.

He could feel your warmth now, smell the peppermint on your breath, the lavender in your hair.

“Harrington? It’s me, it’s Eddie. You there?”

In a flash, he saw his friend bent over a pile of vomit, strapped to a gurney, disappearing behind red and blue lights.

“I’m here.” Steve muttered.

“You got my girl, Stevie? Keeping her safe? Put her on.”

Wordlessly, Steve held the phone loft between you, putting it on speaker.

“Sugar, you there?”

You blinked back at him before glancing down at the device. “I’m here, Eds.”

“God, I miss you both. England isn’t the same without you. I’ve been telling everyone here about you, Sug. You’ve probably gotten a million offers today just from me bragging about you. I’m really proud of you, you know that right?”

“Thanks, Eds.” You breathed.

Steve pushed the phone into your hand and trailed his thumb down your wrist, catching goosebumps all the way to the crease of your elbow. He hated the sour taste that accompanied every word Munson said.

“Recorded a song about you today. I got very jealous hearing Simon sing about you.”

Steve let his hand fall to his side before he gestured back down the hallway and let you have your privacy. His hand tingled, and he flexed it in a vain attempt to shake away your touch.

—

Hopper: Got him, kid. Great job. Tell the girl she can rest easy.

—

You were all-encompassing, everything above and around him, a tight pull that had him on the verge of combustion. You were silky smooth, and soft mews spilled from between plush lips as you sunk down onto him, head cast back to expose the beautiful column of your throat. 

Steve’s hand was pressed to your bare sternum, dwarfing your frame as he extended his touch to every part of you, desperate to squeeze and caress while the stars began to spin behind his eyes.

Directly above him, you were mirrored, the steady push and pull of your bodies, the rucking of his hips on white satin sheets for all the world to see.

He breathed your name, whined it really, in desperation, begging for you to go faster, to slow down, he didn’t know, he just felt the curl of his stomach, his toes, the building of that climax about to burst. 

And then he heard the thunk, a distinct crash of glass and pill bottles from the adjacent suite bathroom. 

He took two steps inward to find the Devil himself lying motionless beside the bathtub. Scarlet red skin, cloven feet, two horns that jutted from beneath jet black curls. 

Steve shook his head, feeling the weight of something in each of his hands. An empty pill bottle and a fifth of whisky. You did this.

No, no, no, no. Steve knelt beside the man, slapping ruby red cheeks, shaking at a studded leather jacket. Fuck, fuck, fuck. He pried the man’s mouth open to expose pointed fangs. 

“Guess you’ll have to take my place,” the man said, eyes wide and ice blue. “You’re the Devil now.” 

—

“Holy fucking shit,” Robin exclaimed, all limbs, blocking the aisle in a local bookstore.

Steve shushed her and pulled a photography book off the shelf. He wondered if you were familiar, if you’d thumbed through the pages with a glass of wine in hand, curled into your futon, maybe you were wearing a nightgown… Jesus Christ.

“You had a Wet Nightmare?”

“Not quite as satisfying as it sounds.”

Robin made a face of disgust. “Please spare me.”

Steve sighed and returned the book to its shelf, pressing on through the aisles as though he had something to look for that didn’t remind him of you.

His best friend rounded to the other shelf, freckled face exposed when he removed the next book. He sighed and replaced it to cover her grin. 

“So, what do you think it means?” She asked, having returned to his side and looped her lanky arm through his.

“I don’t know, Rob,” he ran a hand through his hair. 

“I mean, it feels pretty obvious.” 

He rolled his eyes. “Enlighten me.” 

With a tug of his arm, she twirled him to face her. Sun poured in from a skylight, warm and yellow, illuminating the blue in Robin’s eyes. Steve wondered if you would capture a moment like this. 

“You feel immense guilt over trying to steal Eddie’s girl when you promised him you’d make her fall in love with him.” 

Moment ruined.

Steve palmed her face and shoved her away.

She swatted at his arm and chased him past the meow of a little ginger shop cat and down a new aisle.

“I’m not trying to steal her,” he muttered when she finally caught up.

“I know you’re not, dingus. You’re much to chivalrous for that crap.” Robin nodded, rubbing a circle into his shoulder. 

Steve hummed and pulled a book from the shelf, too heavy, probably a million pages, with a dragon on the cover. The dragon’s eyes were wreathed in flame, his scarlet scarlet. He shelved it. “You should have seen his face.”

“The Devil on the ground? He wasn’t real, babe.”

Steve rubbed at tired eyes and shook his head. “No, Eddie. It’s like, the second he realized he might lose her, he freaked. And I think the most irritating part is that I felt it too. I thought she was going to run and that I’d never see her again because I have to pick him.”

Robin nodded, sliding a book from the shelf to read the back cover. “And why do you feel like you have to pick him?”

Steve swallowed. He knew the answer. It had been nagging at him for days, spinning around in his skull with images of those empty bottles, those tile floors. “Because he needs me.”

His best friend kept her face incredibly expressionless as she flipped through the novel in her hands. Then, with a sigh, she said, “I’m going to ask this will all of the love and understanding in the world. Do you think maybe you need him because something inside of you needs to feel needed?”

Steve didn’t respond, just felt his molars grit around the pang in his chest when her insight hit the nail on the head.

Robin replaced the book on the shelf. “Eddie’s a big boy. He’s grown a lot over the years, thanks to you, and I know he just wants what’s best for you. I think he’ll understand.” 

“You think he’ll understand that I’m trying to steal his girl?”

She shot him a look. “I thought you weren’t.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I think when you talk to him, he’ll understand why you can’t be his wingman this time.” She shrugged, turning the corner down another aisle. Books were stacked to the ceiling near an open stockroom, and her fingertips etched the spines. 

“Remind me why you came to town? To torture me?” Steve leaned against a big rolling ladder, locked into place. 

“I missed you, idiot,” she pinched his cheek and carried on into Science Fiction. 

He swatted her away and followed. His phone felt heavy in his pocket, words left unsaid between the two of you, a wordless trek to the gallery. You thanked him at drop-off. You promised him you’d call if anything came up and that you felt safer knowing Hargrove was locked up. Steve promised you he’d have a good time with Robin and that he was happy you felt safe.

Neither of you said anything about the SD card, about the phone call with Eddie.

Maybe Robin was right, maybe he should call his friend. Maybe he should fly back to London with Robin, leave you and the city behind for a while, clear his head.

“So tell me about this gala.” Robin interrupted his thoughts, hands somehow already full.

With a sigh, Steve took her haul under his own arm. “Some charity is auctioning off her pieces and invited her to be in attendance.”

“That’s very cool. Are you still going?”

He glanced down at the titles in his hands, shrugged. “I don’t have to. I can tell her you want to spend your time here with me. I’m sure she’d understand.”

“And miss all of the aftermath drama? Hell no! You are going, Harrington and you are staying all night. Mainly because I’m going to bring a girl back with me and I need you to not kill the mood with your melancholia.” She gestured to his person and held out another book for him to take.

“These aren’t all going to fit in your suitcase,” he pointed out.

She shot him a look. 

“Why do you get to bring a girl back to my apartment?”

“You had your chance, Harrington, and you ended up on the couch. Time to let the master show you how it’s done.”

He watched as she strolled through the aisles toward an attractive young woman with a curled bob and overalls. Robin commented on the stack of books in her hand, and the girl chuckled. Moments later, Robin was slipping her phone from her pocket and into the girl’s hand.

Steve shook his head, mouth agape, as she offered him a little wink and gestured for him to hurry and follow her to the register. 

—

You: Headed home. Thanks for everything.

—

Steve winced as Robin pushed her little wooden stick into his cuticle. He wasn’t sure how she’d talked him into it, probably guilt tripped him, but they sat cross-legged across his coffee table with beer and chips and the sting of acetone and nail polish. 

“Okay, hypothetical scenario for you,” Robin continued her assault on his nail beds, tonguing the corner of her mouth for concentration on his pinky. “Let’s say you call Eddie right now, tell him you’re in love with her, and he realizes he doesn’t want her as bad as you do. So he moves on. He hooks up with Lizzie or finds another girl in the UK who is far more metal or far more Lord of the Rings elf, right up his alley.”

“Where are you going with this?” Steve groaned.

“Let me finish,” she poked at the back of his hand for emphasis before dripping a tincture of oil onto his fingertips. “So he falls madly in love, right? And they deserve each other. And your girl is sad because Eddie broke her heart. What do you do?”

Steve shook his head, not willing to play games that’ll get his hopes up.

“You’d comfort her. Because you don’t like the people you love to be in pain.”

“Like Eddie if I told him I was in love with his girl.”

As if on cue, Steve’s phone buzzed on the table between them. Munson’s picture lit up the screen, and before Steve had a chance to snatch it off the table, Robin answered.

“Speak of the Devil,” she said.

“And he shall appear,” Eddie finished. “Hey, Buckley, how’s my favorite world traveler?”

“Jet lagged,” she managed a weak smile, circles dark under her eyes. Steve tried to force her into a nap, but she was insistent in staying up. 

“I bet,” Munson laughed. “You are with Harrington, right? Or have you finally stolen his identity?”

“I’m here,” Steve sighed, paint fumes making him dizzy. 

“Oh good. Where’s Sug?”

“On her way home from the gallery,” Steve glanced at the clock, making a mental note to check in on you. You should be home by now.

“I’m not going to ask why you aren’t with her, but I guess this is a good opportunity to ask how our plot is working. She in love with me yet?”

Robin made eyes at him like he ought to tell the truth, those “if you don’t tell him, I will” eyes.

He made a face back.

She opened her mouth to start talking.

“What’s up, Munson? Isn’t it late there?”

“Coward.” Robin mouthed.

He rolled his eyes, resisted running his fingers through his hair. 

“Yeah, did you guys get my packages?”

“What deliveries?”

“Becky didn’t call you down?”

Steve blinked back at Robin’s teasing expression for a moment longer before Eddie’s sentence made sense. “Oh, we haven’t been back to the loft since you left.”

“Why the hell not? There’s full security, a door man, a reception desk, and we installed that huge lock. Not to mention, there’s enough beds for all of you. Robin, tell him to let go of his pride and let you sleep in a King sized bed.”

“What he said,” Robin nodded fervently.

Steve rolled hie eyes. “What packages?”

“I bought Sugar a dress for the gala. Robin, I’m actually glad I’ve got you. I’m looking at earrings right now. Do rubies say ‘I love you but I’m not desperate’?”

Steve stomach churned.

Robin’s eyes went wide, and then her face went through a myriad of emotions before settling on, “Sure. Yes, definitely go with rubies.”

“Shit, are her ears even pierced?”

“Yes.” He hated that he knew that, hated that he watched you loop a silver hoop just before the gallery opening, hated that he wanted to press his nose to the spot where your pulse met your jaw.

Robin snorted, all accusation and face hidden in her bright blue nail polish.

“Great. I’m having Angelo make - a tux. You haven’t - beefier since our last -?”

Call waiting beeped over his voice. Steve glanced down to see Hopper’s name, no photo attached. 

“Eds, I’m going to have to call you back. Hopper’s on the other line.”

Before his friend had a chance to ask questions, he switched lines. 

“Hello?”

“Steve, Jim Hopper here. Listen, I’ve got your girl at the station. She’s fine, just a little shaken up. She asked me not to call you, but I’m not letting her leave here without you.”

—

Hopper’s precinct hadn’t been updated since the 80s. Bricks painted yellow cast sallow shadows on the faces of everyone who shuffled papers around a small office. Florence greeted them with a friendly smile and the smell of stale coffee.

The thundering of Steve’s heartbeat hadn’t quieted since Hopper’s phone call. Robin was up and pulling his jacket off the rack before he even had a second to ask Hop for context, and the two of them split from his apartment and rushed down rainy sidewalks to get there.

Flo buzzed them in, past a glass divider and into a small room with desks stacked with bobble heads and baseballs. Just beyond was an office with a plaque reading Jim Hopper, and a gruff voice asked, “what?” when her knuckled wrapped on the hard wood.

The door opened to reveal a hulking frame behind the desk, broad shoulders and a bushy mustache. A coffee cup steamed in his hand. 

Across from him, you sat in a little aluminum chair, your own hands wrapped around a ceramic mug, shoulders slumped. You turned to see who had entered, eyes glassy. “Steve?”

“Sorry, kid, didn’t want to let you loose on your own.” Hopper confessed.

Prodded by Robin, Steve took a few tiny steps into the office and knelt beside you.

Your hands trembled around the mug. A tear escaped the corner of your eye and began to streak the side of your face.

He caught it with his knuckles, brushing it into the hair on your temple. “Are you alright?”

You wiped frantically at your other cheek and nose, straightening your shoulders up and away from his touch. You set the cup onto Hopper’s desk. “I’m fine.”

Steve teetered back on the balls of his feet and pulled himself to stand. “Want to tell me what happened?”

You avoided his gaze, instead nodding to the Chief to tell your story.

“In her building, some guy said hi to her, and when she got to her door, more roses and this,” Hopper slid a card across the desk for Steve to read.

Your name was scrawled in red marker and on the inside, more images of you and Eddie, these taken during your gallery opening. 

Eddie’s sunglasses were pulled down his long nose, tongue to his canines in a sly grin, hand tucked gripping your waist. You were swatting at him, just as giddy. Only the same red slash mark through your throat had pierced the paper. This time, the artist only got more graphic in his illustrations on the following couple of photos. Enough to churn Steve’s stomach.

“What the fuck?” Robin hissed.

Steve shot her a look over your head.

The poem went as follows:

Roses are red

I thought you’d been warned

I must make you understand

That you will be harmed

“What did this guy look like? Have you seen him before?” Steve tossed the card back to Hopper.

You shrugged, rubbed at the exhaustion in your eyes. “I don’t know. Maybe? He had these blue eyes. They looked so familiar, but I can’t place him.”

“We’re thinking Hargrove’s got an accomplice, maybe a brother or cousin. Seems like his dad’s a total dick, so it’s not out of the realm of possibilities. We’re looking into it. Think he doubled-down when we took him in.” Hopper explained.

Steve nodded. “We’re going to Munson’s. There’s triple the security there, high quality CCTV. She’ll be safe there.”

You looked up at him then, something terse hardened your jaw and your gaze. When Steve frowned, you looked away again. 

“Good, you all try to get some rest. I’m going to send some guys to have eyes on you, too. Call me if anything changes.”

Steve nodded again. “You too.”

You stood before anyone could prompt you and thanked Hopper. You rounded the chair the opposite side of Steve to charge out of the room, but halted abruptly when you found your way was blocked by a leggy blonde in Steve’s denim jacket.

“Oh, hi,” Robin gulped, glanced up at Steve and back to you. “I’m Robin.”

You introduced yourself, voice softer than he had ever heard, a shell of yourself. You glanced back over your shoulder at Steve, looking so small and so lost.

—

Your skin was supple and smooth beneath his palms, throat extended to he could kiss the dip where your jaw met your earlobe. A mewl escaped plump, bitten lips. Steve growled into your clavicle and pressed you tighter into the pane of glass.

“Eddie,” you breathed. 

Steve blinked and pulled back from you, that familiar pang of jealousy tight under his sternum. 

He trailed your arm to your hand tangled in a mess of curls. Eddie knelt between your thighs, curling your toes.

Steve’s heart raced in his chest, and then you were grabbing him, pulling him back to you.

“Steve,” you gasped in his ear, clutching at his shoulders, raking fingernails along the muscles of his back.

He groaned and buried his face in your chest once more.

Then gravity gave out.

A crash of glass cracked and splintered the pane behind you and the three of you were falling, spiraling downward, endlessly, terminal velocity to a ground that never came. Steve couldn’t fly to you fast enough, watching you float further and further away, fingertips grasping for his own. Eddie clung to his knee, screaming for him to get you, to save you, that he needs you. Help him, Steve, help him. 

You hit the ground first.

—

“Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you.” You whispered, clutching a glass of water in both hands. You stood at the window, city lights painting you in deep reds and yellows.

Steve’s heart raced, nightmare having startled him upright on the sofa. He was drenched in sweat, t-shirt clinging and faux fur blanket wrapped around his waist. He gulped and gestured for you to come sit, anything to get you away from the glass. “Everything okay?”

You shrugged and glanced out at the world once more before taking cautious steps toward him. You perched on the very edge of a plum velour chair, the back rising up and over your head like a throne, blanketing you in shadow.

“You want to talk about it?” His voice was hoarse. He wondered if he’d been yelling. He hope he hadn’t woken you.

“I don’t want to wake Robin.” You whispered.

He rubbed at the sleep in his eyes and glanced upward to the loft stairs. “Nothing can wake Robin. Plus, she’s jet lagged. What’s going on?”

You hesitated for several long moments before you spoke again, voice still soft, but above a whisper. “I looked through every single one of my Instagram followers and Billy’s and none of them were that guy. I just feel like I know him from somewhere. I thought maybe he was at the gallery opening, so I went through the guest list and my client list. He’s not in there. Maybe it’s just a guy who lives in my building, and that’s how I recognize him. I don’t know, Steve, I just feel like I’m going crazy here.”

“You’re not.”

“And I know it’s safer here, but sleeping in that big bed all by myself just pisses me off. I kept catching the reflection of my phone in those stupid mirrors, and I just feel like I’m being reminded of what a fucking idiot I am.”

“You’re not,” Steve repeated.

“No, I think I am. I don’t know what I was thinking, maybe that because I’m such a nobody, I’m impervious to all of the other shit that comes with sleeping with a rockstar. I just thought it couldn’t touch me. Paparazzi, fans, whatever. I’m just a girl with a camera like they are. I’m just being young and having fun. Nothing and no one can hurt me. Fucking stupid.”

“It’s not,” Steve shook his head.

“And I thought telling myself it was casual every single day would keep me at arm’s length, but that’s not how emotions work. I can’t just stop how I feel or who I’m in love with or -” You went silent in your chair. 

Steve felt the pang in his chest again, like a cloven hoof crashing through bone and muddling his organs. He glanced at the pane of glass, vaguely wondered how easy it’d be to crash through.

“I just,” you took a deep breath. Your exhaled was so shaky, he thought you might be crying, but he couldn’t see beyond the veil of shadow. “I just want to catch this guy so I can decide how to keep living my life.” 

“We will.”

—

Eddie: Send me a photo of you in that tux. I need spank bank material.

—

Steve felt ridiculous with the luggage cart of packages he wheeled out of the elevator to Munson’s front door. Everything had been opened in front of Becky’s curious gaze, tissue paper torn to ensure no weapons or bombs had replaced the thousands of dollars worth of merchandise Eddie had purchased the day before.

He’d almost walked away without the coffee when Becky called his name to remind him. He thanked her, grabbing the drink carrier, and before he could walk away, she extended a hand with a lime sticky note pressed to her index finger.

“In case you need anything else,” she shrugged.

Front Desk Becky was scrawled across the note above a ten digit phone number.

Steve felt his face flush, but smiled and slipped it into his pocket. He nodded. “Thanks, Becky. I’ll see you around.” 

Seemingly satisfied with his response, she nodded and buzzed to unlock the elevator.

He keyed in the six digit code to Eddie’s place and the door slipped open with ease. He thought about shouting for Robin to help him, but seeing your bedroom door closed, he figured it’d be best not to wake you. He decided instead to slip inside unheard.

Dumping keys on the side table and toeing out of his shoes, he made for the kitchen before lurching to a halt at the end of the hallway upon hearing Robin’s voice.

“I don’t mean to pry, but I have to know the answer to this before Steve gets back and tells us to shut up.”

Steve’s heart began to thud in his chest. He had half a mind to tell her to shut up right now.

“Shoot,” you chuckled, a low sound that sent his stomach doing cartwheels.

“Is Eddie like… a freak in bed? Is that why you stick around? Because I knew him in his Lord of the Rings phase and honestly, you are way out of his league. So it must be the kinky shit keeping you here, right?” 

Steve’s head hit the wall at his best friend’s tact.

“Honestly?” You laughed. “He’s the total opposite of his… persona, I guess you could call it. He’s so sweet and tender. He’ll never try anything new without talking about it first. He makes you feel so… seen, I guess? Like you’re the only woman in the entire world and he just wants to make you feel desired.”

Steve closed his eyes and tried not to remember all of the moments he’d walked in on, all of the stolen kisses and whispered promises.

“Well you’re a very lucky girl. The way he talks about you, I think he really does love you.” Robin’s voice lingered, like maybe she was asking it instead of stating it, gauging a reaction.

Steve didn’t know how much more he could hear.

“Okay, my turn to ask you,” your tone shifted, conversation alleviated of its tension. “You’ve known Steve forever, right? So you must have gained some insight from the women in his life.”

The bodyguard’s face warmed.

“Oh boy, where do I start?”

“No, it’s fine, Robin, I got it.” Steve said a little too loudly, rounding the corner into the living quarters. The large windows poured in the light of a foggy morning. He made eye contact with Robin, and he could tell from her expression she knew he’d heard everything.

“Do you need help?” She asked, uncrossing her legs on the sofa.

He shook his head and smiled, “I got it. Here’s your coffee.”

She took his drink with mumbled gratitude.

Then he pulled yours from the carrier to slip between your soft fingers. “Good morning. How’d you sleep?”

“Fine. You?” You hadn’t. 

“Good, yeah,” he nodded. He hadn’t either after his nightmare. He sat up scouring the internet for any and all suspects. He knew you were, too, yards away in that big bed all by yourself.

“Can we start digging into those presents from Eddie?” Robin cut the tension. “It feels like Christmas, and he promised he’d buy me something too. I wanna know what I got.”

Steve gestured for the entry hall and sipped his own coffee, too hot and too bitter for such a grey morning.

You feigned a laugh, allowing Robin to pull you up by the wrist.

—

1 Voicemail

Steve. It’s Hopper. No leads yet. Munson’s driver has been vetted, and the building security staff. We’ll have patrol cars out front as well as guys posted near the exits. I’d been packing if you got it. I don’t think Brenner’s affiliated, but we’re taking all necessary precautions. Joyce wants pictures. Stay safe.

—

A valet opened the door and Steve hopped out of the large SUV before you, extending a hand to help you down and onto the pavement of the function hall. You teetered a little on your heels as you began to ascend the stone steps, but Steve ensured the crook of his elbow was there to stabilize you.

Cameras flashed, and you clung to him like a life raft, a panicked look etched across your features. 

“Relax. I’ve got you,” he muttered into your hair when you reached the massive front doors.

Coming to a coat room, your worn leather jacket was slipped from your bare shoulders, and your white invitation was exchanged for a numbered stub that Steve slipped from your fingers to stash in the inside pocket of his tuxedo.

You didn’t wait for him to proceed into the massive event space, marble pillars standing hundreds of feet tall on either side of you.

Say what you will about Eddie Munson, but the man had style.

Your dress was the perfect shade of burgundy to match the rubies dangling from your earlobes. It billowed with each step, yet maintaining enough structure to hug and accentuate every beautiful curve. The silk garment left your shoulders bare, the expanse of your beautiful skin exposed and gathering goosebumps as you entered the vast space.

Steve suffered the same goosebumps when you’d both stepped out from your designated dressing spaces, you in your dress and heels, he in his all-black ensemble. The two of you just took a breath to stop and stare, a moment suspended in time. 

For half a second, he was tempted to sweep you off your feet, to crash his lips into yours and never let you go. He took two strides closer. You did the same, fingers tangling with nerves or excitement or anticipation, that familiar glint of mischief in your eye. 

“Alright, I’ll say it,” Robin sliced into the moment. “I’d fuck both of you. Right now, if you’d like?”

You laughed, head thrown back, dark lipstick accentuating your sparkling white teeth. He’d pay to feel them sink into him. 

Now, he remained two strides behind, giving you space to relax, to take in your surroundings, to lead the charge. 

Your name was called from nearby, and he watched every muscle in you tighten and release when you looked over to find Martin Brenner, host of the gala, with his hand outstretched to you. 

You accepted and allowed a kiss to the height of your cheekbone.

Brenner introduced you to a handful of guests surrounding them. Steve tried to memory-bank their names and faces. All of them older, none of them had blue eyes. 

“This is my date, Steve Harrington,” you extended your hand now, and your bodyguard fell into place beside you, shaking hands and offering curt nods.

“You work in the music industry, do I have that right?” Brenner sized him up, squared shoulders and pursed lips.

Steve spared a glance your direction, felt himself tighten at the fear in your gaze.

Brenner shrugged, let a smug smile slip onto his features. “Background checks. We want to ensure our get-togethers are safe. I’m sure you understand. You’re in security, right?”

Steve nodded, tight-lipped. “I appreciate your diligence.”

Brenner’s smile widened at this. “Good man. Your job must feel grueling, all of those late nights, traveling the world. Have you ever considered settling down? Maybe taking a stationery position somewhere? I’m always looking to expand my security team.” He nodded to indicate men with earpieces scattered throughout the floor.

Your fingers gripped Steve’s bicep tighter. He smiled and shrugged. “I tend to thrive in chaotic circumstances.”

Brenner seemed to appreciate his response, but glanced over his shoulder with a nod. “Well, it was fantastic seeing you both again. Hopefully I’ll catch up later. More guests to greet. Please, help yourself to some drinks.” And he was off.

—

Several champagne flutes had found their way into your hands and then abandoned on tables, still full, while you met and greeted dozens of Chicago’s elite. Steve recognized a few faces, elbows he’d knocked before, and tried to impress you, when he could, with introductions. He couldn’t help but delight in the way your timid smile grew with each compliment.

“You’re doing great,” he managed to whisper between senators and lobbyists.

That smile had his stomach doing somersaults. 

“When I saw your piece, I cried,” another woman said, clutching your arm with diamond encrusted fingers. “I’m serious. I thought, ‘that’s it. That’s my city.’ Your work is amazing. Isn’t her work amazing?”

Steve nodded and smiled. “Her eye is incredible. I feel the same way every time I look at it.”

“It’s not enough that her work has to be beautiful though, I mean, will you look at her?” The woman’s secretary pitched in.

“Isn’t she breathtaking?” He agreed. The soft candlelight wrapped you in warmth, reflecting off smooth skin and the sheen of your dress. If only they knew what you looked like in a t-shirt, hair tossed to the top of your head, sipping a lavender latte.

“You’re a very lucky man.” 

“I am,” he nodded.

“Ladies, will you excuse us? I think I need a little air.” You tugged at his forearm, and the woman chirped and cooed goodbyes.

When you finally stepped into the hallway, breeze brisk from outside, you rounded on him.

“Why did you make me sign that NDA?”

Steve blinked, whiplashed at your change in demeanor. After the first exchange, he noticed your shoulders relax, that light come back into your eyes. Now, you were all harsh angles and spat words. “What?” He shook his head.

“I gave you the SD card and told you to come find me, as in, come talk to me, as in, I’m interested in you, Harrington. I thought I made it pretty fucking clear. And then I met Eddie and started talking to him, and he told me I had to talk to his security guard to sign the NDA, and I don’t know I guess a part of me really hoped you would talk me out of it and convince me to go home with you instead, but you didn’t.”

Steve glanced around the hall at on-lookers before gripping your hips and pushing you back into a more secluded corner. 

“Don’t touch me,” you huffed.

He released you immediately, hands threading through his hair while his brain tried to catch up with everything you’d said.

“And now I’m getting death threats and am terrified for my life, and Eddie Munson is in love with me, and I can’t even reciprocate even though he’s the most genuine, sweetest man I know because part of me is still holding out hope that you feel the same way about me as I do about you.” You hissed, glancing over his shoulder to ensure no one could eavesdrop on this onslaught of confessions.

Steve felt his jaw go slack, but only in the way he can feel his hands go numb if he’s been laying at a weird angle on an airplane. Everything buzzed and his ears popped and his heart thundered in his ears.

“So why did you make me sign the NDA?”

He didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how to respond, couldn’t find words past. “I don’t know.”

You were trembling, breath shallow as you slipped one hand into his, the other tucked up under his lapel. “Do you feel..” You glanced up at him through long, thick eyelashes.

He swallowed, nodded, allowed his hand to caress the small of your waist. Your smooth dress caught on calloused fingers.

“So kiss me,” you tilted your head, breath warm on his face.

He traced circles into your hand with his thumb.

“Steve,” you breathed. “Kiss me.”

Your name cut through the air too loud, too disruptive, ripping through you.

“The woman of the hour, have you seen her? I heard she came out this way. I simply must compliment her on her work.”

Steve’s blood ran cold at the sound,  and he turned on his heel to find a man in an all-white tuxedo, a menacing grin splitting his features. 

“Oh, Harrington, right? Good to see you.” Jason Carver extended his hand. 

---

[A/N: Dun dun dunnnnn. I think I might be in love with him. Steve. Just for clarificaiton. xoxo]

[sunflowerxthoughts]

rockstar! eddie x nepobaby reader???? idk probably reader would a daughter of two famous actors or singers and they meet on a carpet, fall in love and started dating in secret and 💞💓💓💖💘⭐️😭💌 sound so perfect probably i would cry

It's taken me so long to write this but I'm actually turning this into a series!!! This seems like a really nice universe to explore, so I'm writing some hcs now of their story and you guys will get the full fics next. I need a name for the series so you are more than welcome to give ideas!!!! That being said as always my content is +18 only and requests are open. Thanks! And thank you for this request, love! 💖💖

First thing first I can imagine reader being the kid of a famous musician in the rock/metal scene and the mother being an actress. An only child but not too spoiled, I think her parents wouldn't really hand her everything in a silver platter.

However nepotism is nepotism so when she starts to show an interest in acting it's not that hard to get a job, even if she asked to be treated like the others.

Eddie and reader meet at a red carpet for an event involving dad's band.

Both of them are like holy shit how are you even real.

Of course they exchange numbers but for the public eye it ends there. Just two kids being besties.

H O W E V E R

They really click. Text constantly, they send each other silly selfies, they tell all about their days, some text that almost cross the line between friends or more.

So naturally both Gareth and Steve tell him to just ask reader out.

Eddie is like no.

And everyone just ???????????

He is just scared of the outcome but of course readers says yes. Only he forgets to tell the boys so like no one know.

NO ONE.

They are like teenagers, sneaking in and out, booking hotel rooms to have silly little dates under silly little names.

And of course the first person to find out is reader's dad and poor Eddie is scared shitless. But he loves Eddie and agrees to keep it a secret because how could he say to his little kid.

So now they get secret dates and family dinners with r's family and Wayne.

Fast forward to a year later, both happy, the friends know, everyone is cool with keeping it lowkey and then they get papped.

And shit goes down. Like everyone loves the couple but they are both so angry their little bubble of privacy got destroyed.

And the fans!!!! They are so happy but so ready to harass the tabloids to leave them alone.

And suddenly the two are doing red carpets together, looking so in love. And of course they are photographed out and I'd like to think they do like Emma and Andrew or Joe and Sophie just trolling the paps in the best way possible.

All in all it's a very sweet but dramatic relationship.

But he knows they are IT for him so he is willing to absolutely kick anyone's ass for them. And he does.

More coming soon.