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thenas-heart · 3 months

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“Now I’m Covered in You”

pt 2 to “Fall in Nashville”!!

Summary: after last night, you and Julien decide to go on a hike.

Content: smut!!, f!reader, fluff?, exhibitionism, switch reader (?), getting caught, soft dom julien, hair pulling

(this is the longest story i’ve written and i’m drained but i love it)

You had slept on the couch. Julien insisted on sharing her bed. As tempting as it was, you didn’t want to rush things.

It was around 7 when you heard footsteps in the kitchen, followed by a clinging of mugs.

“Fuck sorry,” Julien said in a hush. It drew a groan from you by the sudden noise. You walked to the bathroom, not wanting to look horrendous when Julien saw you.

After you spat out your toothpaste, you had a good look at yourself before walking back out. You looked great. Not only what you wore, but everything. Your hair was cooperating, and your eye bags didn’t look so sullen. Maybe it was the ego boost from last night, but you decided to not give it too much thought. You kept a hair tie on your wrist, just in case your hair decided to betray you.

As you stepped out of the bathroom into the kitchen, you smelt the coffee Julien brewed.

“Hey sorry about earlier, I made you coffee,” She expressed, holding out a mug in front of her. A huge grin appeared on her face as she handed you the cup. Just the sight of Julien made you weak in the knees. She wore a black tank top and shorts that showed off her tattoos and stomach.

“Thanks, the couch was a bit uncomfortable,” you admitted, heading to the fridge to add creamer to the coffee. Julien sat on the counter drinking her cup.

“Should’ve taken my offer.” She said under her breath, placing her cup down.

You made your way in front of Julien after fixing your coffee. Julien kept her eyes on you. She glanced at your eyes, then your chest, before meeting your eyes again. Her gaze seemed wanting.

“I know,” You put your hand on her knee. She hitched her breath as you started to caress it. “I just didn’t want to rush anything.” You revealed, watching her bite her lip.

“It’s getting harder not to kiss you right now,” she admitted, ignoring your reply. You felt your face flush as your eyes widened at her response. Julien eagerly leaned toward you, cupping your chin and kissing you gently. She took her time now being at the height advantage. She wanted to draw this moment out as long as she could.

You felt a fluttering sensation between your legs as Julien moved her free hand to your chest. It pulled a moan from you, which made her smile between the kisses. The two of you ached for more as she slid her hand from your breast to the inside of your joggers. You broke the sloppy kisses with another moan. Julien started tracing small circles through your underwear, driving you to whimper under her touch. Before the situation could escalate any further, you heard a faint gasp. The two of you flinched off of each other as you saw Pheobe and Lucy in the doorway, covering their mouths.

No one knew what to say, everyone’s faces became red as you all felt mortified.

“W-we just wanted some coffee,” Phoebe finally spoke out, finding humor in the situation.

Lucy gave a stifled laugh, ” We can just come back.” They both started to back up like they just walked in on a breakup.

Julien hopped off the counter, looking flustered. “We were just,” she cleared her voice, “hanging out.” She said, scratching her head.

Your jaw was agape from Julien’s awful lie. Lucy and Pheobe merely stood there with the same expression as you.

Julien continued to lighten the situation, “Actually, we're gonna go on a hike so uh, it’s all yours.”

Julien quickly walked past them as you followed her, refusing to meet either of their eyes. After you two left the kitchen, Julien grabbed the shoes you two wore yesterday to put them on outside. As you shut the door, you heard Lucy and Pheobe burst out laughing.

Julien handed you your shoes as she laced up her docs. “I can’t fucking believe they saw that.” She chuckled. You slipped on your shoes, holding your hand out to help her up after she finished.

“It was fucking funny though. Mortifying, but funny.” You laugh. Julien still held your hand. She leaned forward, having to stand on her toes to kiss you. You met her halfway, your other arm snaking around her waist.

The front door opened. “JB you left your-” Lucy caught you two again. “Oh my god! Nevermind!” Lucy said before shutting the door.

Both of you pulled away laughing, knowing it wasn’t as bad as earlier.

“Okay let’s actually go.” You say.

–

The trail Julien took you on was beautiful. She narrated how she found it and how she met Lucy and Pheobe. You two stopped by a massive stump that was shaded by neighboring trees. You sat on it with Julien standing between your legs. The two of you examined each other's bodies before speaking.

“Julien are you not cold or anything?” You question, creating eye contact. The weather was nice, but you wore a tank and sleep pants, and Julien only wore her shorts and the black tank.

“No, I’m fine. It feels good, despite being basically naked in the woods.” She joked as she began playing with your hair. You drew her waist closer to you. Lying your head on her toned stomach before meeting her eyes again.

“Jay, I need you.” You managed to get out. You felt that familiar sensation between your legs again.

Julien swallowed, “I need you too.” She replied.

You maintained eye contact as you pulled her shorts down and knelt beneath her. Her breath hitched from the cool air. She moved her hands to your hair, waiting for your next move. You started kissing her thighs, paying the most attention to her tattoos. You could hear her trying to conceal a moan which made you hum. You held her hips as you placed a kiss on her clit.

Julien’s hips jolted as she shuttered from the sensation. You pulled away before proceeding. Julien looked down at you, nodding to let you know it was okay. You smiled as you lifted her leg over your shoulder and moved one of your hands under her shirt. Julien tightened her grip on your hair before your mouth attached to her clit again.

“F-fuckkk,” Julien rasped, keeping her eyes on you. Not wanting to miss a thing. Her breath became uneven as you began kneading her sensitive nipple. You kept attacking her clit before letting go of her hip to run your finger along her entrance. A gasp escaped her throat after you inserted yourself into her. You could feel her body tighten as her hips began grinding against your face.

You set a rapid pace, all your focus on getting her there. You removed your hand from under her shirt to hold her in place better. She was a whimpering mess and you could tell she was close. You inserted a second finger and sped up your movements with your mouth. Julien felt close to release but needed the final push. You decided to be rougher, quickening your pace and curling your fingers until she came. Julien’s legs were trembling, her eyebrows furrowed, throwing her head back, letting her jaw hang. She instinctively drove your head closer to her body. You gave a muffled moan as you laid your tongue flat, letting her face fuck you. You kept your fingers in her, riding out her orgasm. You felt the build-up in your core from the situation, hearing Julien’s noises and her eagerness made you a mess underneath her.

After Julien came back down, you removed your fingers from her as she drew your head away, still holding onto you. Her chest was heaving and her face was red. She looked down at you again, as she shakily removed her leg from your shoulder. You two stared at each other for a moment before taking the fingers you used on Julien into your mouth and sucked. The both of you felt a tight flutter, as she moved her hands to your face and pulled you to stand. She eagerly kissed you as you wrapped your hands around her neck.

“You’re fucking great,” she praised between kisses. You pulled away to catch your breath properly again. You felt like you ran a marathon. Julien’s thumb ran across your face. She looked so gentle and focused. “You’re so pretty.” She added.

She fixed her gaze on the rest of your body and spotted the hair tie you kept on from earlier. “You had a hair tie this whole time?” She laughed. You both found it comical as she pulled up her shorts that had been left on one of her ankles.

“I forgot I had it,” you laugh. Julien started messing with the hair tie around your wrist, moving closer to you.

“We can still use it you know.” She says, darting a look at you. You feel your face return to a familiar blush as you knew what she was implying.

Julien let her words sit before leaning in and kissing you harshly. She was eager. Yeah she loved what you did to her, but she knew you were yearning for her touch. And you complied, melting into her. It wasn’t long until she had you pinned against the stump. She sat her knee between your legs and held onto your wrists. The kisses were short and needy. She needed to make you feel good.

She pulled away from you, “Can I?” she asked. Her eyes were hungry yet sincere. She wanted this badly but was able to stop if you didn’t want it.

You nodded instantly, “Please.”

Julien’s face lit up. She wasted no time attacking your neck. A soft moan left your mouth as she started to kiss and suck at your neck, undoubtedly trying to form marks. Her hands began roaming your body, finding their way to your chest. Your breathing got heavier as she started to pinch your nipples under your shirt and lifted your top, exposing your breasts. You wince slightly from the cold air as Julien started caressing the skin. Your hands found their way to her hair, your back arching to her touch. She wasted no time swirling her tongue around the hardened nipple. The action caused you to buck your hips and whine under her as she repeated the same action on the other side.

“Julien please,” you begged, trying to get friction from her leg.

She chuckled before removing herself from you to kneel under you. Julien took off your pants and underwear, pulling you toward the end of the stump. Her eyes flashed to you before attaching her mouth to your clit. Your jaw hung open, spewing moans and praises as she started sucking harshly.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck” you whined, bucking your hips to her touch. Julien hummed, resting her hands on your thighs, spreading your legs to give her better access. She switched between sucking on your clit and tounge-fucking your entrance. Her hips started to twitch against the stump as your moans got her off.

Julien pulled away for a moment and started to leave kisses on your clit, before putting your leg over her shoulder and attacking your entrance with her tongue from a new angle.

“P-please don’t stop” you whined, holding her hair harshly. From the new angle, her nose was pressed against her clit. Pushing you closer to the edge. “Julien, I-I’m so close,” you add, out of breath.

She decided to get you there as fast as she could, pushing her middle and ring finger into you, not skipping a beat. The feeling forces you to come shortly after, not being able to handle the overstimulation.

You cried out her name as you came down, removing her fingers from you. Your chest was heaving as she stood over you catching her breath as well.

“Fuck, Jay.” you manage to say, your legs trembling. You prop yourself onto your elbows, looking at the mess she left. Julien smiled, holding her hand out to help you up.

After getting up, you quickly put your pants back on and fixed your shirt. You looked at Julien who was rocking the ‘just had sex’ look and you knew you looked the same.

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thenas-heart · 3 months

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hii! just wanted to let you know that your work is incredible, i love reading everything you put out.

could you write some headcannons on jb with an anxious reader that’s maybe overwhelmed by everything that’s going on in her life? <33

THANK YOU SO MUCH!! oh my god you don’t know how happy that made me!! i’m so glad you like my work! i love your stuff as well, lovely! you’re work is immaculate *chefs kiss*

of course i can write that!

‼️RPF ‼️

HC - julien x anxious reader

- julien knows you suffer from anxiety and knows how to stop it before it gets worse

- julien has been able to notice when you’re spiralling / about to go into an anxiety attack. from scratching at your arms or running your hands over your collarbones / neck in an agitated manner she is quick to step in

- in public spaces it’s almost the same as well. you’d immediately grab onto juliens hand or hold onto the back of her coat / shirt as she guides both of you through the crowds to somewhere more quiet.

- big crowds were never your thing. claustrophobic if you will. it’ll make you panic and go into an anxiety attack so julien tries to avoid it as much as possible.

- “just hold onto my hand princess. you trust me right? i won’t let anything happen to you” and she sticks to her word.

- will try to find a quiet place for you to relax and calm yourself down

- getting anxious at home can be a bit more different opposed to in the public eye.

- you end up breaking down one night from an exam you’re studying in college. the pressure of your grades and the weight of the exam sits heavily in your stomach.

- julien was quick to notice. you hunched over the small desk in the corner. julien noticed you weren’t really studying more staring into space.

- not getting a reply from you, she was quick to place a hand on your shoulder. moving quickly into action.

- “c’mere baby, how about we rest for a bit? we can study together later”

- gathering you into her arms moving to the bed she bundles up together with you and the blankets

- unable to really form much words you just end up letting out tears. jb understand though. “take your time, let it all out”

- about of praise, reassurance too. you always need to be reassured. it helps ground you and bring you back

- “i love you so much baby. you’re doing so well”

- rubbing your back, hands in your hair, gentle kisses to your lips, cheek, nose, forehead everywhere.

- you end up tiring yourself out but calming down a bit more, feeling ready to talk to julien

- my god is she patient. you could be here all night refusing to talk and julien would be ok with it. she’d rather take all the time in the world to make sure you’re ok than you being uncomfortable or still anxious.

- jb knows what it’s like to have anxiety. the unsettling pit of dread and fear in your stomach. she wishes she could take it away from you.

- you end up having a heart to heart with julien for a couple of hours. sharing what made you upset.

- julien tries to help, asking what she can do to help you in the future, what can she improve.

- she knows these exams are taking a toll on your mental health. deciding once you’re finished the last of your exams she’ll treat you to a nice weekend away. some time together without the worry or fear of exams or in the public eye.

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thenas-heart · 3 months

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soft dom top jb headcanons pleek i beg

🫶❤️

RPF AND SMUT (sort of) YOU DONT LIKE IT LEAVE

soft!dom julien

-julien is so gentle all the time, even if you ask her to be rough with you she physically can’t. She loves you too much, you’re too precious to her and she worries she’ll hurt you

-she loves to make you beg, she definitely gets off on words

- “you want it baby? Beg for it.”

-“please baby? Please. I need it, I need you.”

“Cmon j, please? Please julien, I’ll take whatever you give me. Just need you. “

-she’d be a puddle, she tries not to show it but you definitely see the blush across her face when you beg

-probably uses not getting to give her anything as a punishment. As long as she gets to please you first, it definitely hurts you more than her.

-she LOVES to give, but when she’s sad she wants you to take control

- she loves being in control most of the time though, might even have a mommy or daddy kink? I could see it giving her a sense of power like that

-when she’s strapping you she is so gentle, so much more than if she’s fingering you/eating you out

-“can I put it in, honey? Tell me if it’s too much”

-she’ll be so lost in her own pleasure, the base of the strap hitting her clit just right. But she’ll always choke out a “does this feel as good-oh fuck- ah! F-for you as it does f-for me?”

-“need me to slow down honey? Pull out a little? Anything. Just let me know you’re okay”

-might even have hand squeezing codes for that, like squeeze for slow down and twice for pull out a little

-traffic lights, definitely makes you use those all the time. Doesn’t matter what you’re doing. If it’s sexual she wants your full consent at all times.

-you would never have to use red, yellow maybe once or twice.

-you’re in a relationship with her for a longtime and she definitely picks up on what you like and what’s too much

-could make you feel amazing even with her eyes closed, you might even blindfold her as a test/game to see if she’s knows you that well..and she does.

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thenas-heart · 3 months

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julien baker but crushing headcannons

(like how it started and how she acted before confessing)

also sorry if this is ass and pls request stuff bc I need inspo

you guys had a couple of mutual friends and where in the same groups and stuff and you kinda always caught her eye

Lucy probably noticed her staring right away and teased her about it

had Lucy and phoebe help her plan outings (still just friends) where they would run off so you two could be alone. like oh how convenient that Lucy and pheobe had to bail last minute and there's a hefty cancelation charge at that restaurant oh noooooo

she would have been super nervous to ask you out and probably had been planning about it and fantasizing for a while about how she would do it

has written so many songs about you because she can't get you out of her mind and especially writes a bunch when she's away from you and can't sleep

when you and the Boys where hanging out in a group and queerness came up, julien could barely contain her joy when you mentioned that you also like women she probably couldn't stop thinking about you and was just in the clouds for the next 10 minutes

whenever she has to go somewhere she would always bring you a souvenir back. ranging from a simple hoodie or beanie to some obnoxiously ugly nick-nack that julien thought was funny

before you knew she liked you she would constantly flirt with you as a joke (wasn't a joke) and lay it on really thick (she was testing the waters)

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thenas-heart · 7 months

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light me up - eddie munson x fem!reader

horny thots brought to you by me and @onegirlmanytales thanks for your help with this one 💕

18+ ONLY MINORS FUCK OFF!

warnings: cockwarming, unprotected penetrative sex, riding, praise kink, creampie, uh… smoking kink?

You hated smoking.

You had your entire life, but that all suddenly seemed to change when you started dating Eddie Munson. Maybe it was the way his plump lips wrapped around the cigarette, or how the smell mixed with his earthy musk ignited your senses. No matter what the reason was, he quickly realized the effect it had on you. The male seeming to light one up every chance he could find just to rile you up. And it worked every damn time.

Which was why when he pulled out that worn pack of marlboro reds you clenched your thighs together. As if on instinct. Your boyfriend instantly noticed the action, a small smirk tugging on his lips. He grabbed one out of the pack, placing it between his lips before he motioned you over to him. You quickly crawled into his lap, skirt riding up as you straddled him. When he handed you his lighter you looked at him confused, his hands now occupying the bare skin of your thighs.

“Light it for me sweetheart?”

You fumble with the lighter for a moment, nodding as you hold the flame up to the end of the cigarette. You watch as the embers ignite, Eddie inhaling as you gently set the lighter back down on his nightstand. He tilts his head back, blowing the smoke towards the open window and away from you. His chocolate hues lock onto yours, mischief sparkling in them.

“Good girl.”

You can’t help but whimper, feeling the dampness in your panties from his words alone. Eddie takes another drag from the cigarette as squirm on his lap, your own eyes focused on his lips. Only he could make something as simple as smoking look so damn sexy, and the cocky bastard knew it too. One hand is still resting on your thigh, slowly inching up higher until his digits are pulling your underwear to the side. He groans at the wetness he finds, gently teasing you with his fingers.

“Hm, you need me that bad huh sweetheart?”

You feel your face flush, mumbling a quiet ‘yes’ as your hips grind down onto his fingers. He chuckles at your actions, but promptly removes his hand causing you to pout. He raises a brow, taking another drag before setting resting the cigarette on his ashtray. You continue to rock your hips against the bulge in his jeans, begging for any kind of friction. An idea seems to form in your boyfriend’s head, grabbing your hips to stop you from moving further.

“Since you’ve been so good baby… How about you sit nice and pretty on my cock until I’m finished? How’s that sound?”

You nod your head immediately, hands reaching to unbuckle his belt. Eddie picks his cigarette back up, continuing to smoke as you free his cock from the confines of his jeans. He groans softly as you grasp the base of it, pulling your underwear to the side as you sink down onto him slowly. Your eyes flutter shut, a moan escaping you as you feel him stretching you open. Once you’re fully seated he curses quietly, feeling you clench around him. As much as your body is begging you to move, you refrain. Knowing Eddie would be so quick to not let you cum if you misbehave.

The cigarette is almost half gone at this point, but he is seemingly dragging this on longer than necessary. But he likes to make you wait for it, he loves turning you into a needy mess. It’s one of his favorite sights. Your eyes meet his, leaning your face closer. It causes you to shift slightly, whimpering as his cock pushes deeper into you.

“Kiss me Eds. Please.”

If you couldn’t bounce on him like you desperately needed to, the least he could do was give you that. Blowing out some more smoke he leans forward, capturing your lips in a sloppy kiss. He tastes like nicotine and peppermint and you only want more. Slipping your tongue into his mouth he groans, both of you fighting for dominance. Which he quickly won, playfully sucking on your tongue with a wet pop as he pulls away.

“Just a little longer sweetheart…. Being so good for me.”

Despite the praise he’s given you, your impatience is starting to naw at you. But you merely nod watching as his lips continue to wrap around the stick. When the white has all but vanished you feel yourself clench around him, eagerly awaiting his next move. Eddie blows the last puff of smoke from his lips, smashing the cigarette butt into the ashtray. His hands cup your cheeks, crashing your lips together desperately as his hips thrust up into you. The movement is so abrupt it surprises you, gasping into his mouth. But it’s all the permission you need to grind yourself back down onto him.

Your hands are wrapped around his neck, holding him even closer to you. You couldn’t seem to get enough of him, or him of you. Eddie’s thrusts were brutal, hitting that spot inside you repeatedly that had you crying out loudly into his mouth. His calloused hands are gripping your hips, helping you bounce yourself on his cock. Your thighs were beginning to burn from the effort but you didn’t dare complain. Eddie’s lips are trailing down your jaw, tongue darting out as he sucks harshly on your skin.

“God look at you, such a dirty girl. You like watching me smoke don’t you?”

You whine in response, your words seeming to fail you. But your boyfriend wasn’t having that, grabbing your cheeks and forcing you to look at him. His hips slowed, driving you absolutely crazy.

“Need you to tell me sweetheart…”

Eddie keeps your gaze level with his, dragging his cock in and out of you so slowly you wanted to cry. His pupils are blown so wide you can barely see the irises anymore. You knew you had to tell him, or he’d continue torturing you like this.

“Y-yes! Fuck— you’re sexy Eds. Just please!”

It’s all you can manage with how scrambled your thoughts are, but he takes mercy on you. His hips resume their previous pace, his middle finger now brushing over your lower lip. You open immediately, taking it into your mouth and sucking on it. You make sure to get it nice and wet, tongue swirling around the digit. Eddie groans, removing it before sliding his hand into your panties. You clench harder around him as the digit encircles your clit, nails digging into the nape of his neck.

“That’s it… fuck. Gonna stuff you so full baby.”

His words are what finally finish you off, crying out his name as your orgasm rocks through you. Your legs are shaking, collapsing against his chest as he continues to fuck you through your high. Curses are tumbling from his mouth, feeling him spill himself inside you. He continues thrusting himself into you, fucking his release even deeper into you. You whimper, his hips finally stilling at the sound. Eddie leans back against the wall, letting you nuzzle your face into his neck.

You stay like that for a while, until both of your breathing has calmed down. Eddie was still nestled inside you, but neither of you wanted to detach yourselves just yet. It made you feel closer to him, if that was even possible. You could feel the mixture of both of your arousals dripping down your thighs, but neither of you seemed to care.

“Fuck baby… I’ll smoke a pack a day if it means I get to fuck you like that every time I light one up.”

You feel yourself flush, lifting your head from the crook of his neck to meet his gaze once more. Lightly smacking his shoulder in a playful manner. He just grins, dimples making an appearance on his cheeks. You press a chaste kiss to his mouth, rolling your eyes at him fondly.

“You already smoke almost a pack a day Eds.”

. ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ. ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ. ݁ ˖ ࣪ .

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thenas-heart · 7 months

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like a mötley crüe song

eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: a lesson in smoking leads to some more interesting lessons… (5.0k)

warnings: smut (oral - m receiving, fingering - f receiving, grinding), best friends to lovers, afab!reader, eddie calls r “girl” sometimes. mdni.

“Fuck,” you sigh, messing up the chord again.

The rain patters violently against the roof of the trailer, mocking your shitty playing. You scowl and grip the chip between your fingers tighter.

It’s a nice night despite your frustration. The storm outside the trailer’s window is electric and fierce, but calming in the comfort of Eddie’s room. An old lamp sits near his closet, bathing the otherwise dark space in a broken golden hue.

You’ve been fiddling with the guitar in your lap for the last half hour, struggling to get the song right. It’s like your fingers aren’t working properly, the tempo is all wrong, and there’s one note that you can’t seem to get right.

You blame your struggle on the intoxicating smell of weed and the sight of your best friend sprawled out on his bed. He’s shirtless with a freshly rolled joint pinched between his fingers and a mug resting at his side to act as an ashtray. It’s mind-numbing how pretty he is when he’s doing something so mundane.

“‘S that Mötley Crüe?” Eddie’s voice is groggy, set deep in his throat. Smoke leaves his mouth as he speaks, blooming from his lips and curling around in the air like wildflowers growing in spring. It thins out and disappears just as quick as it came.

“Yeah, She Goes Down or at least it’s supposed to be. I can’t get this part right.” He hums, lips wrapped prettily around the joint. You ignore the shivers rushing up your spine and turn back to the instrument on your lap.

It’s Eddie’s guitar you're using. He’s protective of it, rightfully so considering Wayne saved up for a year to get it for his birthday. It was really no surprise when he wouldn’t let you use it at first. But after months of whining and desperate pouting, he reluctantly gave in.

He lets you use it whenever you want after seeing how gentle you are with it and how excited you get when you learn a song. Sometimes he’ll even teach you a song, hands wrapped around yours to show you the chords. It’s not ‘cause he wants you to get better, he doesn’t really care for that. He’s just selfish and wants to see your toothy grin when you get it right.

You pick at the strings again, playing the same chord until that sour note ruins it again. You scoff and remove the electric guitar from your lap, gently getting up from the floor and placing it back on its mount.

“I’m never gonna get it,” you sulk, kneeling to the right of Eddie’s bare chest and tossing the pick he got you somewhere in his sheets. It’s a pink one from the record store on Main Street with a few crooked hearts Eddie drew on. He thinks you’re exaggerating when you say it’s the best birthday gift you’ve ever gotten, but it tops the gift card your parents get you every year with flying colors.

You watch his tummy rise and fall with his breaths. You’re jealous of how comfortable he looks right now, laid out and eyes closed. Your own eyes linger on his skin, admiring the dark tattoos you’ve memorized over the years and the way they contrast his pale complexion.

You’re not oblivious. You know your best friend is attractive, panty-wetting and jaw-droppingly attractive. You’ve seen the way people stare at him, hungry eyes and bitten lips, and though you would never admit it, you get a little upset when you catch them.

But, then again, you can’t blame them. He’s alluring in an awkward, boyish way, the kind that makes you want him so bad it hurts. He’s lean, but not scrawny. His hands are large and littered with veins that crawl up the sides of his arms. His pouty lips and puppy eyes give him an innocent charm that contradicts his otherwise rough aesthetic. He’s everything you could ever want and more.

So yeah, you’re not oblivious, but your best friend is. He doesn’t notice when someone’s checking him out, not even when it’s you who’s doing it. You’re not sure if this trait of his is a blessing or a curse.

You trace a patch of dark ink on his hip. It’s a stick and poke you did on him in sophomore year. With a clean needle and suspicious ink, you tattooed a tiny bat. It’s messy compared to his professionally done tattoos and is missing a few spots of ink, but Eddie always tells you it’s his favorite ‘cause you did it. You press your fingertips into it until he’s hissing and trapping your fingers in his right hand.

“Don’t get all pouty, sweetheart. I’ll teach you later,” he mutters, bringing the blunt back to his lips with his other hand.

You pull your fingers out of his tight grasp and hold him properly, fingers lacing together, his thumb smoothing over your knuckles. You know touching and sitting so close probably isn’t normal in platonic relationships. Wearing nothing but a strappy shirt and tiny shorts while he’s shirtless probably isn’t too normal either.

But your friendship with Eddie isn’t normal. It’s crooked and jagged, distorting platonic boundaries. You’re always too close, too doting, too much. It’s not just friendship, it can’t be. It’s more than that.

His other hand comes down to rest on his chest after taking a big puff, fingers lifted to keep the burning stick from hitting his skin. You watch the way he exhales, letting the weed out through his nose.

“Can you teach me how to smoke too?” The question leaves you before you could even think about it.

“Really?” His eyebrows are arched in surprise, amusement lazily tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Yeah please,” you sweetly smile and pick the joint from between his fingers, careful not to burn him. It feels weird in your hand, almost unnatural yet exhilarating.

It’s not like you’ve never gotten high before. Eddie is your closest friend, so of course you’ve tried weed. But you’ve only had it when he makes you his ‘famous special brownies’ or invites you to try Rick’s new edibles, never though a joint.

He sighs, “Smoking’s bad for you.”

“So is getting high,” you shrug and bring it close to your lips, waiting for his instruction. Warmth travels down to your core when he mutters “brat” under his breath, feeling fuzzy without even having any drugs in your system.

“Suck in the smoke and then inhale through your mouth.” Your head goes dizzy when you wrap your lips around the blunt, right where Eddie’s mouth had been seconds ago.

Weed fills your mouth, tasting flowery and bitter on your tongue. You inhale, but start choking the second it slips down. It burns your throat red and raw, aching while you cough violently into your elbow. Tears itch in against your eyes while his heavy hand comes up to smooth circles down your back, encouraging you to breathe.

You catch your breath with his hand in yours and swallow tightly to try to ease the burn. Eddie takes the roach in your hand and flicks it into the mug. “Sorry, sweetheart, I’m sorry. I should’ve eased you into it.” You nod through a few leftover coughs and wet lashes.

He’s looking at you softly, toffee brown eyes gazing into your watery ones. “Still up for learning? I’ll teach you better this time, we’ll go slow.” You’re embarrassed but determined, nodding while picking up a new joint from the tin box on his nightstand.

“We’re gonna do a shotgun this time ‘cause it’ll be smoother, you know that is?”

“Blowing smoke into someone’s mouth,” you say, but the rise of your tone makes it sound more like a question.

You’ve seen Jonathan do it to Nancy. He’d exhaled cigarette smoke into her mouth before trapping her in a fiery kiss. You feel your face get hot at the thought of doing that with Eddie, breathing him in and then tasting the weed on his lips.

Your heart bursts when he grins at you, “Yeah, smart girl. You sure about doing this?”

You’re nodding ‘cause your words fail you, brain too weak and flustered to come up with a response.

“Good, c’mere,” he sits up with his back against the headboard. You’re really not sure how he wants you, so you just shuffle closer until your thigh is against his and your knees at his hip. He takes the joint and sticks it between his lips, nodding to his lighter sitting on the bedside table.

You lean across him and take it, gently playing around with the mechanism while his fingers trace little shapes on your thighs. “You’re gonna exhale for me while I take a hit, and then you’re gonna inhale through your mouth when I let it out, okay?” His voice is honey, flowing thickly and sweetly into the room.

You don’t answer, instead lean over to light the blunt, watching the fiery red tip burn. His eyes drop between you two, risking a glance at your tits. They’re pushed up at the edge of your strappy shirt, the hem sitting low on your chest. You don’t notice, too entranced with the way his mouth inhales the smoke so smoothly.

He pulls you towards his face with a firm hand at the back of your neck. His eyes flutter shut while you let out a dramatic exhale to let him know you’re ready.

He plucks the joint from his lips and leans into you. Even with your eyes closed, you can tell he’s close to you, so painfully close. It takes everything in you to stop yourself from pushing forward and kissing him breathless.

When he softly blows out, you inhale completely and let the weed fill up your senses. The smoke glides through your throat much smoother this time, and you’re exhaling without a single cough.

You’re feeling fuzzy by the end of it, fingertips tingling against Eddie’s hand.

“That was good, babe. Wanna try it yourself?” You shake your head, take the joint, and put it up to his lips.

“No, can we do another shotgun please? Just to be sure,” you say, though the last part comes out as a weak whisper. Part of you genuinely wants to make sure you won’t cough and embarrass yourself again. The other part of you wants to be close to him, close enough you could almost taste his lips. He nods and takes a hit, chest rising as his lungs fill up.

You lean close when he squeezes your hand and take a breath when he lets his out. Your head is floarting, buzzing with a pleasant dizziness that pulses shivers down your body. You’re not sure if it’s because of Eddie or the weed or both, but you love it regardless.

He’s grinning when you exhale successfully, blowing the smoke between your bodies.

“Alone now,” he sticks the joint between your parted lips when the weed dissipates. You do as you practiced, taking in the crisp smoke and breathing in as much as you can. He’s squeezing your hand again when you let it out nicely.

“That’s my girl. My turn,” he whispers with a toothy grin and takes a puff, sweet and smooth. Your muscles feel blissfully loose and heavy as you take a few more puffs and listen to the rhythm of the rain hitting the roof.

The drug in your system makes it hard to pry your eyes off his mouth, pink and pouted. It’s even harder to stop yourself from kissing him right then and there.

And maybe it’s the drugs or desperation, but when Eddie presses his lips around the blunt for one last drag, you break.

Without warning, you pull the cigarette from his mouth and kiss him.

You get the smallest taste of him, lips smooth with smoke, before you realize what you’re doing and pull yourself back.

You’re flush with embarrassment, “I’m so sorry, I-”

But before you can continue, he’s bringing you closer with a firm hand on the back of your neck and kissing you with burning passion. His lips are parted over yours, plush and soft against you. Warmth bursts in your chest as he deepens the kiss, the taste of weed on his tongue adding to your intoxication.

He’s pulling away much too soon for your liking and smushing the joint in the mug. You can’t resist the wait, so you’re pressing your lips to his again. His sweet mouth nibbles and bites your own. He’s groaning in pleasure, hands coming down to squeeze your waist to get you closer, fingers digging harsh enough for you to have bruises in the morning.

You’re pulling into him for more until it’s hard to breathe with him clouding your senses. You stop, watching him chase after your lips through heavy breaths, eyes shut, and messy hair.

He looks beautiful, and you need more.

“Can I suck you off?” Your voice is weak, breath heavy and tickling his skin.

“Wha-?” His shock is evident by the way his jaw tilts, mouth parted.

“Please, baby. I wanna try it,” you pout. Your hand comes down to his thigh, touching him lightly.

He whimpers shakily, “Yeah, yeah okay.”

And then you’re shuffling down on his bed, popping the button on his jeans. The sight of his happy trail has you clenching your thighs together.

You inch his jeans down, knuckles brushing against him, eliciting a trail of goosebumps. You toss them somewhere on the floor once they’re off and admire his position.

He’s still laid out, comfortable as ever, but there’s a certain look to him now. Anticipation and excitement sit pretty on his face.

“You sure?” You’re mumbling as your hands roam upwards towards the bulge in his underwear.

“God, yes.”

And that’s all you need to pull the waistband down his hips. His cock springs up, finally released from the tight confines of his jeans. You’re almost entranced as you stare at him.

He’s so pretty, tip aching for your touch against his stomach. His soft, pale skin smooths into a pretty pink at his slightly curved tip, veins marked all throughout him. His dark bush sits softly at his base, curling around the skin there. He’s long, so long, that you question how you’re going to get him down your throat. Your mouth waters.

“You just gonna stare at me?” His voice is thick through heavy breaths.

“You’re pretty, Eds,” you grin at him in response before shifting up to settle between his legs and lean down.

“Thank you, baby,” he blushes, and you giggle ‘cause the pink on his face matches his tip.

You press a wet kiss on his slit in response. His breath hitches as you grab at his base and tease a little more, giving him tiny kitten licks on his sensitive head until he’s practically whimpering.

His sweet noises spur you on as you lick up from his base to his head a few times until he’s wet enough to touch. You wrap your fingers around him and stroke, twisting your wrist when your hand moves down.

“Is this your first time doing this?” Your stomach flutters at the thickness of his voice, smooth honey dripping into his tone again.

You look up at him, cheeks red and lips parted. He looks beautiful like this, under your control.

“Yeah, am I doing okay?”

He grunts, “More than okay, feels so fucking good. Use your mouth, sweetheart.” You nod, skin burning red-hot at his praise.

You put him in your mouth, his tip heavy where it sits on your tongue. His taste is new to you, musky and salty yet indescribably good. His whimpers start up again when you begin to suck him gently.

“Now, use your tongue a little,” he tuts. You hum and slowly swirl your tongue around him, pausing to tease at his slit and pick up drops of precum.

“You’re taking me so well, taking my cock so perfectly.” He groans, hips bucking forward just enough for the back of your throat to start throbbing. He’s breathless as you continue going lower and lower, trying to take all of him in you.

You can’t stop the whine that escapes you when his fingers tangle in your hair to keep you against him. He’s not necessarily pushing, just holding you. A dense cloud of ache and smoke forms at your core, sending storms of pleasure to your entire body.

Your eyes itch with tears as you try not to gag. His head is so deep, and it burns your throat like the weed had when you took your first drag. He senses your discomfort and pets your hair gently while muttering a small “breathe through your nose, baby.”

One last push has your nose slightly nuzzled in his bush, lips wrapped tightly around his base. There's more of him, an inch or so you can’t take. He doesn’t seem to mind, mumbling, “That’s it, that’s my good girl,” through heavy panting.

You look up at him through your wet eyelashes. He’s flushed, more than ever, and leaning up on his elbows, watching you take him through hooded eyes. The sight goes straight to that warm cloud between your legs, the pleasure making you forget what you’re doing until you’re gagging slightly.

He tuts as you regain your composure, focusing on your breathing so you don’t pull back. Tears roll down your cheeks as you take him, head bobbing up and down his length while your hand spreads drool that’s collected on his base to his heavy balls.

He wipes your tears with a tender finger, watching you continue to take every bit of him. His eyes and taste on you are intense, burning with want and something else you can’t quite place. Maybe it’s because of the way he’s looking at you, the way he smells, the way he tastes, the way his weed makes you feel, or maybe it’s because you’re nearly choking on his dick. But you’re finding it hard to breathe, hard to keep yourself from gagging around him. So, you swallow, his tip snug against the back of your throat.

He’s pulling you off with a firm grip at the back of your head and a sex-dripping moan.

“Wha-“

“Was about to fucking cum, angel,” he says.

It’s hard to speak while your heart pounds, partly because of your lack of air and partly because he looks so pretty and flushed, but you manage. “Wanted to taste you,” you pout, leaning your head against his thigh so prettily he thinks his heart is going to burst.

“Next time, sweetheart. I wanna play with your pussy, okay?”

Next time. Next time Next time. Your head spins until he’s tapping your cheek to bring you back.

“C’mon, let me take care of you.”

You get up and lay down, head against his soft pillow. You watch his muscles tense and turn as he puts the forgotten ashtray-mug on his bedside table and turns to you. He’s between your legs now, and the switch in position gives you a slight whiplash that only drugs and arousal and Eddie could produce.

He bites his lip at the sight of your tits stuffed in your thin shirt.

“You’re wearing too much. Wanna take this off?” He’s gentle, not prodding, as his fingers dance along the hem of your small shirt, thumbing at a loose thread there. You nod desperately, already lifting yourself to help him get the fabric off.

“Use your words,” he tuts while pushing you to lay back down.

You whine out a pathetic “yes, please,” under your breath.

You swear you see his dick twitch when he pulls it off, discarding it somewhere on the floor.

His eyes are black, blown with lust as he admires your bare tits. Your breath shudders at the cold air, nipples hardening beneath him. He sighs like he can’t fucking believe the sight before him.

“You’re so fucking precious. You have no idea what you’re doing to me,” he mutters, hands coming up to cup your tits.

You giggle sweetly, “I think I have an idea.” You push your hips up slightly to brush Eddie’s dick against your skin. He shuts you up with a bite to your tits, smirking with his skin between your teeth when you squirm.

He leaves a mark there, licking and sucking until there’s a patch of purple on you. You like the fact that your best friend is marking you up, taking you as if you were his and he were yours. It makes your blood run scorching hot under your skin.

He takes your whimpers and gasps as a sign to keep going, pressing bruises into your chest while ignoring your pebbled nipples. It’s only when you grasp his hair and push him down that he starts suckling where you want him, tongue teasing your neglected buds.

He moves his mouth to your other tit, teeth gently brushing against you. That feeling in your core gets stronger, growing until you’re begging for more.

“Need you to touch me, please.” A bite lands on the side of your tit, Eddie completely disregarding you. You squirm, inching further up the bed. “Eds, please, I need more.” It’s like your body is going to give out if you don’t get him where you need him.

He leans back with one final kiss pressed to your sternum and admires you: the way your legs are spread for him, eyes filled with tears, and lips red with lust.

“Can I take your shorts off?”

You sigh, “yes, please.”

So he does, pulling them off you as you lift your hips to help him. He’s met with the sight of white cotton panties, simple and soft with a tiny bow at the top. They’re an innocent pair, one you probably wouldn’t have worn if you knew the night would go like this. But he revels in it anyway, looking like he could devour you.

As your legs move back to their spread position, he marvels at the messy in your panties and the patch of wetness soaking the thin fabric. Softly, his hands trail over your thighs, inching closer and closer until the tips of his fingers reach the area where your cunt meets your thigh.

One of them comes up to thumb over the dainty bow before pulling your panties to the side to expose your sopping cunt. Watching his pretty lips fall apart at the sight of you feels almost as good as the feeling of his eyes on your core. His fingertips tracing your slit with a barely there pressure that has you whining for more.

“Look at you. You’re so fucking pretty,” he mutters under his breath, fingers spreading your folds. His face is twisted into a dazed expression, heavy and relaxed with the feeling of you.

“Please, touch me,” you say with a whine in your voice that only he can evoke. He tuts while his fingers brush over your sensitive clit. You jolt, hips twitching and aching for more. He’s slow to feel you, fingers languidly trailing down to circle your entrance and back up to toy with your clit.

“Y’so warm, sweet girl.” He whispers, now pressing down on your clit with enough pressure to have you moaning. The cloud of ache in your belly turns violent against his calloused fingers.

“You’re doing so good for me, baby.” His breath is heavy. You string together some pathetic words, something about “so good” and “faster,” but he seems to understand as his fingers rub your clit at a pace that has you tipping over the edge embarrassingly quick, the cloud in your tummy bursting into waves of vibrating pleasure.

His fingers keep rubbing at you through your orgasm, only slowing down when your swallow breath turns deeper. Your blood runs hot in your veins, sizzling with leftover pleasure.

“You okay? Wanna keep going?” His palms slide up your thighs.

“Yeah- yes please, I’m okay.”

He leans down to press a chaste kiss on your lips. “Good, sweetheart. Can I try something?”

You nod, but bring him down to you with a hand on his shoulder to kiss him again. It’s nothing but teeth and giggles when your lips meet, too excited to properly kiss. He pulls away with a wet smack and brings his sight back down to your soaked cunt. With hungry eyes and bitten lips, he fixes your panties, putting them on properly.

You start, “Eddie, what are you-”

But then he sticks his cock in the small space between your hot cunt and pearl-colored panties before you could finish. He’s placed his body toward that space where your pussy and your thigh meet and pushed his cock to sit in the gap under your panties. Your core is covered by soaked fabric and his thick cock, goosebumps blooming where his skin touches yours.

“Oh,” you mutter breathlessly, the tip of his cock sitting heavy over your clit.

A gutteral noise escapes his lips as he rutts himself painfully slow against your warmth and the smooth fabric, supporting himself with two strong hands on either side of your head. Sparks dances as he itchs forward, pressing against your throbbing bundle of nerves. Your arousal and cum coat his cock and your panties, serving as lubrication and encouragement for him to speed up.

Your body is positively on fire, the tips of your fingers and bottom of your tummy aching in desire. He feels so good against you, rubbing your sensitivity with his bulbous tip. Sparks float behind your closed eyes, exploding like fireworks each time he presses against you just right.

“Shit, baby, w-was just doing this to tease you. Feels too- mmm fuck, too fucking good, though. I’ll fuck you another day, yeah?” It’s pathetic how you moan, his lustful voice sending your already muggy brain reeling. He doesn’t seem to care for an answer, eyes stuck on your tits.

He adjusts your panties over himself, a thumb coming down to tighten the space his cock penetrates. You watch as his tip tightly presses against the soft cotton, precum wetting the fabric even more.

The friction grows against you as his thrusts pick up in speed. His lips capture yours in a heavy kiss, his tongue taking the lead. As you feel yourself getting closer to the edge, it gets harder to kiss him back. Instead your lips spread open, spilling dirty whimpers into his mouth while accepting the pecks he presses on you.

“So close- don’t stop,” you beg with a hand wrapped around his wrist.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” The pained tone in his voice and the pinched pleasure in his face expose just how close he is, heavy breaths and groans accompanying each rock of his hips. Your nails rake across his back, gripping where ever you can.

Your blurry eyes trail over him and catch on the silver of his chain. It’s a dainty piece, his signature when it comes to jewelry. You watch it bounce along with the feeling of his cock against you.

The chain disappears from your sight as he leans towards you. As if he’s memorized your body in the short time he’s gotten to explore it, his mouth nips at the sweet spot on your neck while a hand comes up to toy with your nipple. Unexpected and sharp- the final thrusts until you’re squeezing your eyes shut and cumming.

His hand squeezes your waist, chipped nails digging at the hard enough to press bruises for you to find tomorrow. He works you through the rest of your orgasm, prolonging the sparks rumbling at your core.

Before waves of sensitivity and overstimulation wash over you, Eddie cums. Warm spurts of him coat your sticky pussy and drenched panties. He groans, face dropping into your neck.

He’s quiet as he catches his breath, inhaling the scent of sex and smoke and you. You do the same, running a hand up and down his back where you were previously scratching. You wince when he moves, softening dick catching on your sensitive clit.

“I‘m sorry, so sorry sweetheart. I’ll be right back,” he mutters.

You watch as he walks off to the bathroom and returns with a wet washcloth. He takes off your soiled panties and cleans you up gently. When he’s done, he lays on the bed facing you. You copy him, turning on your side until you’re face to face.

“Was that okay?” Kind fingers come up to brush your hair away from your face.

“More than okay,” you mutter back, reaching up to catch his hand between your own and lace your fingers together against your chest.

“You’re beautiful, you know that?” His words tingle on your skin, raising warmth to the surface. You lean your head down to kiss his knuckles in a shy response, hoping he can’t see your flustered state.

He lets out an amused huff before reaching over your shoulder with his free hand. He picks up your pink guitar pick and shows it to you with a crooked smile on his lips.

“Want me to teach you that song? What was it again? Don’t remember,” he says, fingers fiddling with the pick.

You groan, already seeing the humor in this and the endless teasing you’re gonna get.

“It was She Goes Down…”

You watch Eddie’s lips break into a smirk, smiling like it’s the funniest thing in the world. “She Goes Down, huh? Yeah, you do.”

You kiss him to shut him up.

2K notes · View notes

thenas-heart · 7 months

Text

𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐊𝐄𝐑 𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐌.

virgin eddie munson x experienced fem reader

summary: you go into the boys locker room with a plan to steal the polaroids your now ex boyfriend took of you to show off to his friends, but the last thing you suspected was to be met with Eddie ‘the freak’ Munson and his very big friend.

warnings: smut ahead, 18+ minors dni, no use of y/n (use of pet names), non consensual sharing of nudes, reader technically cheats, big dick eddie, slight fingering, oral (m receiving) unprotected p in v, cream pie, fluffff.

authors note: I feel like I haven’t written a one shot in awhile, so…hope you like. As always thank you to my lovely beta’s @take-everything-you-can & @xxhellfiregirlxx <3

wc: 3.4k

You are fuming, absolutely seething with rage.

You couldn't believe your boyfriend, scratch that ex boyfriend would do this to you. How could someone swear to be ‘so in love” with you but turn around and do this? It just didn’t make sense, but you only have yourself to blame.

All of your friends warned you about Andy, said he was a pig and would just use you as another notch for his belt, but you wanted to believe you were different or that maybe you could’ve changed him. Instead you allowed him to take very x-rated polaroids of you, that he in turn showed to all of his basketball buddies, who told their cheerleader girlfriends, who then told you he’d spent all of gym bragging and showing them off in the locker room.

So…you’d devised a very impulsive and hell bent plan; while they were all outside running the annual mile, you decided you would sneak into the locker room, find Andy's locker, then you would break into it and steal the polaroids back. It was a fool proof plan… or so it seemed in your frenzy of rage.

But as you walk into the quiet, cold, sterile room filled with green lockers. You quickly realize you're not alone.

“Oh my god!”

“Oh fuck!”

Was said in unison as you and Eddie ‘the freak’ Munson locked eyes, but they didn't stay connected for long as yours roamed his body, all the way down to the biggest cock you had ever seen in your life. Not that you’ve seen so many, but you’ve had your fair share of hook ups and I mean c’mon you're not a prude, you do watch porn.

But, even so… his cock was still bigger than anything you’ve come in contact with, albeit on screen and off.

“I’m so sorr–”

“What are you do-”

You both say again, voices overlapping as Eddie catches the wide eyed stare you're giving his flaccid manhood.

He quickly covers himself with his hands, his cheeks pinkening in embarrassment.

Eddie was rather dense when it came to his size, considering he was a virgin and he’s been using the locker room while it was empty since he started at Hawkins High, not wanting to give the jocks anymore fuel for their relentless fire. He didn’t have much to compare it to, nor did he want to participate in any dick measuring contests. The only porn he had hidden under his bed were his dirty fantasy magazines but all the dicks in there were monster cocks, literally.

“What are you doing in here?” Eddie huffed in annoyance as your eyes continued to burn a hole into his now covered groin.

“I um, I–” You couldn't even find the words to explain why you were in the boy’s locker room, not one that would make any sense to him, anyway.

“You what, huh? Spit it out.” Eddie didn’t mean to snap at you, but he was already in a foul mood. He had been present when Andy was showing off your goods to his ogling friends, who all agreed he was a ‘lucky guy’.

Eddie patiently waited for them all to retreat out and onto the track so he could finally shower and get dressed back into his all black attire. Eddie, oh lovesick Eddie had been nursing a mammoth sized crush on you since your freshman year. So, to say he couldn't help but roll his eyes and clench his fists at not only the thought of all these other dudes getting to see you, but also the fact that you even picked a shit stain like Andy Clayton to give an ounce of your time to, really pissed him off.

“I came to try and get something back from my ex.” You bashfully murmur as your eyes once again find the metalheads.

A remorseful look passes over Eddie's face at your revelation, as you both continue to stare at each other you quickly notice his wet hair has been dripping down onto his tattooed chest, the scene makes your breath hitch and you want so badly to clench your thighs from the heat that's been ignited in your center.

Eddie’s confidence begins to grow as he notices the flush of your cheeks and the way your breathing went ragged as your eyes wandered.

“Ya’ know, if i didn't know any better i'd say you’re checking me out?” He declares with a cocky smirk.

“What? I-I’m not-” You stutter before shutting your eyes tight, as if it’d shield you of your utter humiliation. You quickly exhale in an attempt to rid yourself of the mix of arousal and embarrassment that has simultaneously filled your body.

“Okay, I was… but I didn’t mean to, I'm sorry.” You whisper as your eyes meander the tiles under your black loafers and white slouch socks.

“You didn't mean to check out my dick?” Eddie says in bewilderment as his brows raise, disappearing behind his shaggy, wet bangs.

He’s surprised he has the confidence to stand so close to you with his dick literally in his hand, but watching you stutter and squirm has got to be the highlight of his whole high school career.

Well this and that time he, Gareth and Jeff left that flaming bag of shit on Mr. Higgins doorstep. Yeah, watching that old fuck struggle to put out a burning bag filled with dog shit was definitely up there.

“I mean, I did mean to, it’s just– nevermind, I'm sorry. I’ll leave.” Your words fly out of your mouth before you begin to turn and leave, back out the way you came without fulfilling the mission you were on just five minutes ago.

You didn’t even make it two steps before Eddie was gently grabbing your bicep, his hands no longer covering his cock that now grows hard between his scrawny thighs.

“It’s just what?…Color me curious sweetheart.” He says as his calloused fingers slowly run down your arm and back to his side.

Sweetheart, you liked hearing him call you that. Jesus, what is happening?

“Well um, your dicks like really big.” You say as your eyes fall back to his package, you lick your lips at the sight of it twitching at your words.

“Really?” The way he questions you is confusing because there is absolutely no way he doesn’t know he’s hung like a goddamn horse.

“You’re joking right? You’re gonna act like you don’t know your cock is massive?” You say with a tilt of your head.

His eyebrows shoot back up in amusement, the cocky smile on his face a complete rival to his rapidly beating heart.

You move closer into his space, looking up into his innocent looking doe eyes.

Eddie Munson is anything but innocent, right? I mean he sells drugs for fuck sake! You’ve even heard about him grabbing a cheerleader's tit during a drug deal, of course she was trying to get him to lower the price, but still…well now that you come to think of it, that's really the only sexual thing you’ve heard about him. There’s no way he could be a… yeah right.

“Can I ask you a question?” You whisper as you move in even closer, moving a now damp, stray strand of hair behind his reddening ear.

“S-sure.” He whimpers when your long nails lightly scratch down his jaw, which he quickly covers with a cough.

You bit at your lips trying to hold back a giggle at the noise that went straight between your legs.

Okay, fuck those pictures! What better way to get over a guy than to get under a new one…right? Especially one your ex hates…who has a huge cock…I mean this shits a no brainer… you’re gonna fuck Eddie Munson.

“Are you a virgin?” You question sweetly as you ‘innocently’ play with the hem of your plaid dress, the white turtleneck underneath making your already hot and bothered body, burn more with the intense electricity radiating between the both of you.

“I uh, how’d you know?” He sighs as his shoulders drop in exasperation, not at you but at himself for being so fucking obvious.

“Well, with that third leg I never would’ve guessed…but you have this innocence in your eyes that’s kinda telling.” You giggle as your eyes meet his still hard cock, and all you wanna do now is wrap your hand around it and watch him lose his mind.

Eddie throws his head back and laughs into the open air of the now humid locker room. He whispers third leg to himself, nodding his head as if he was hearing that term for the first time. He was.

“Do you wanna stay a virgin, Eddie?” You whisper as the tips of your fingers gently trail over the patch of hair on his lower stomach, just above the spot your hand is aching to touch, that he’s aching for you to touch.

Two things in this moment make the metalhead equally lose his mind, he might actually cum untouched if he’s being honest. Your hand is so close to his throbbing cock, just a few centimeters down and you’d be brushing against his pink, sensitive tip. And hearing you say his name. Wait, you know his name.

That alone is an aphrodisiac for him.

“No, I-I don’t.” He admits before swallowing hard, his damp Adam's apple bobbing at the motion.

“Can I kiss you?” He surprises himself as the question leaves his mouth.

“Please.” you whine with desperation, making Eddie groan as his lips find yours in a frenzy.

Your fingers slowly trail down, finally wrapping your dainty hand around the sheer girth and length that is Eddie’s cock.

Another whimper falls from between his pretty lips, but this time it's unashamed and without a cough to cover it up. No, he wants you to hear what you’re doing to him.

“That feel good, baby?” You murmur into his mouth between the smacks that echo off the barren walls.

“Fuck, yeah mhm, it does.” He rushes out awkwardly, making you giggle into the kiss.

He wraps his arms around you, in an air of confidence and pulls you in closer, chests now flush as your hand continues to softly tug at his cock.

“Do you wanna fuck me, Eddie?” You whisper as you lean your forehead against his, wet bangs be damned.

“I’ve wanted to fuck you for a very long time, princess.” He admits without much thought.

You break away from him, eyes boring into his as you take in his confession. You step back and Eddie’s heart shatters as he curses himself for opening his big, stupid mouth and scaring you off. But before he could get down on his knees and grovel for you to just ignore him and stay, keep paying attention to him. You take his hand and lead him to the wooden bench towards the back of the locker room.

He follows you like a lost puppy before you’re gently pushing at his chest, a silent instruction for him to sit down. He quickly takes the hint, clumsily plopping down onto the stiff wooden bench.

He looks to you for direction, those innocent eyes blinking up at you and goddammit if it doesn't chip away at the walls your now ex boyfriend has helped you build. But, that's a thought for another day.

You fall to your knees, cold tiles digging into your skin as you wrap your hand back around his cock in a wildness that you’d never felt for any of your previous partners.

“Holy shit.” Eddie spits out in disbelief. This has to be a wet dream, there's absolutely now way this is happening to him…he’s never this lucky, and in typical eddie cynicism, he looks around to make sure no one is filming or waiting to pop out and laugh at him or better yet, to tell him this was all some elaborate prank, get the freak all riled up just to leave him high and dry.

The thought is quickly extinguished when you wrap your lips around the head of his cock, gently sucking before you're removing your soft, pillowy muscles that are now coated in his precum, you alluringly flick your tongue across them gathering it all, just to get a good taste of him. His soul just about leaves his body and you've barely even started.

You take him back into your mouth, but this time without mercy as you relax your throat, slowly moving down inch by delicious inch as you try not to gag, his tip now bullying your uvula like his own personal punching bag.

“Oh, oh fuck, please. I-I…” He stammers as his hands flex and clench beside him, too afraid to run his fingers through your hair like he so badly wants to.

You fuck his aching cock into your throat, bobbing your head up and down, over and over before you’re popping off of him, placing a sweet kiss to his tip then standing back up onto your feet, your knees burning from the pressure that was placed on them, red indents now take their place leaving very little mystery as to what you’ve just done.

“I need your cock so bad Eddie.” You moan into his mouth before kissing him, it’s deep and needy and you never want to kiss anyone else like this for as long as you live.

“Use me, please. J-just fuck, just use me pretty girl.” Eddie whimpers, before he begins attacking your neck, sucking hard before soothing the skin with his tongue. You couldn’t care less if he leaves marks, in fact you want him to mark you up, make you his.

You thread your hand into his still damp hair, pushing him closer as he begins to suck at a particularly sensitive spot, just below your ear.

Eddie places one last tender kiss there, before he removes his face from your neck. He confidently lifts the hem of your dress up and over the tops of your thighs, exposing your slick soaked, red panties. The metalhead swipes a finger over the thin, lace fabric that clings to your hips.

“Can I take these off?” He asks as his eyes continue to bore into the growing wet patch in the center of your covered slit.

“Mhm.” A high pitch whine escapes from the depths of your throat at how harshly he tore them off from between your legs. Needy boy.

“Fuckin’ aye.” Eddie murmurs to himself at the sight of your glistening cunt right in front of him, so pretty and wet just for him. He wanted to run his fingers through the damp, trimmed coils on your mound but quickly decided against it, he didn’t want you thinking that was weird.

“H-have you ever seen a pussy before?” You chirp up, bashful as you grab his hand and move it towards your soaked slit.

He clears his throat before answering- “just in magazines.” He admits as his cheeks tinge a pretty shade of pink.

He’s embarrassed by his revelation, but you can’t help but think that’s the hottest thing you’ve ever heard.

You work his fingers through your slit, rubbing at your own clit with his hand and it all just fuels that fire growing deep in your belly.

“Oh!” You moan as your eyes gently roll back, you swipe his finger through your wetness again, “you feel that? Feel how wet you make me Ed’s?” You whisper as your eyes now hold his.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful! I-I need to fuck you or im gonna cum. You can’t just talk to me like that, princess.” He mutters as he loses all resolve, not that he had much to begin with.

“Yes, sir.” You whisper into his ear before you’re placing a gentle kiss there. You turn around, hand grabbing onto his still hard cock, you lower yourself into his lap, pink tip already prodding at your hole as your back becomes flush with his chest, you lay your head back against his shoulder and burrow it into his neck, both of you moaning in unison as you sink onto him, slowly.

He’s so big it’s like he's ripping you in half, but you welcome the burn. The pleasure and pain of it all makes your cunt drip even more, further creating less pain and a whole lot more pleasure.

“Mmf.” Eddie moans into the side of your face, as you’re finally seated flush in his lap, cock buried deep inside your aching pussy, you clench around the intrusion, making Eddie gasp and whine.

You smile back at him before you’re doing it again.

“Fuck, do you want this to be over before it starts? Huh?” He says threw his teeth, as he grabs your chin to reprimand you. And you want nothing more than to play further into that dynamic.

Andy was a shit lay compared to this, Eddie Munson a virgin is fucking you better than your ex, and if that doesn’t speak volumes as to how the relationship was. The thought makes you feel stupid.

Before you can fester anymore on your dumb mistake, Eddie begins to fuck up into you, all his patience seeping through the air vents that you now realize are on and blowing, creating a chill throughout the room and goosebumps to trickle over your body.

His big hands grab at your waist, roughly bouncing you up and down on his cock as he follows the same rhythm. You’re both moaning into each other's mouths as you bring your hand to the nape of his neck and holding on, as you get absolutely railed in the boys locker room.

Not only is the location turning you on but the thought of being caught by anyone, especially Andy, has got your cunt dripping and making a mess of the metalheads balls.

“Shit, you’re so wet and warm and so fucking tight, baby.” Eddie huffs as his words begin to spill out with no filter, theres no fucking way he can think about what he’s saying before he says it with you clenching around him like that.

“I remember the first time I fucked my fist thinking about you; you wore that little jean skirt with those fucking red cowboy boots a-and the tightest little white shirt, I could see your nipples perfectly. Didn't even bother to wear a bra, just wanted everyone to see, didnt you? Mmm, bad girl.” He starts his confession out whiney and whimpering until he gets to the bad girl with a growl and an extra hard snap of his hips that make your eyes cross in complete carnal delight.

“That’s so fu-ucking hot that you think about me when you jack off, fuck.” You stutter as your body continues to be used as Eddie’s personal little fuck toy.

“Yeah? But I don’t have to do that anymore do I? You’re gonna let me fuck this tight little cunt whenever I want, aren’t you baby?” The confident rasp in his voice is a complete 360 to the awkward, innocent boy he was just seconds ago. But, the way your pussy tightens around him tells him you fucking love it, so he files that information away for next time.

“Yes, yes whenever you want Eddie!” You wail as your legs begin to shake, your cunt clenching around him as your nails dig into his thighs that continue to slap up into the backs of yours. The sounds were filthy, but they egged you both on as your highs so quickly approached.

“Ed- I’m cumming, oh my god!” You sob, fully convinced someone has had to have heard you both by now. But you don’t care, how could you when the most intense pleasure was coursing through your body, turning you into a twitching mess.

“Fuck, me too baby, wher-” He doesnt even get to finish, before you’re begging him to cum inside you. Of course he obliges, eyes rolling back into his head and cock throbbing as his heavy load shoots deep inside you.

“Goddammit.” He whispers into your neck after you've both come down from your panting highs. The breath he exhales tickles you, making you giggle. His arms wrap around your front, holding you tightly before burrowing his head deeper into the skin between your jaw and clavicle, he blows a raspberry and you can't help the shriek that leaves your mouth as he continues to tease you.

“So, you want help getting those pictures back?”

7K notes · View notes

thenas-heart · 7 months

Text

'can i borrow your bed?'

perv!eddie x reader

summary: you just got your first vibrator and are eager to try it out, but your house has thin walls and no privacy. luckily, your best friend eddie has graciously offered his room to you.

warnings: masturbation (f and m), use of a dildo (obviously), mutual pining, a lil bit of voyeurism.

a/n: here you go, lovelies. especially @prettyboyeddiemunson who encourages my dirty thoughts and @izzyxplr (if anyone else wants to be tagged in future stuff just let me know) <3

You knocked on the door. It was the first time in years that you'd done that. Wayne insisted on you just walking in and making yourself at home, and as for Eddie, he was either listening to or making music way too loud to hear your tapping. One time, you had to go to his open window and throw an empty soda can at him to get his attention.

You prayed he'd have just as hard a time hearing you today.

As you waited for Eddie to answer the door, you wondered if you had time to go back to your car and drive off. It was too much to ask. He'd just said yes to be nice, but really he was uncomfortable. It had come up after you'd both been smoking... maybe a little more than you should have. You were pent up, irritated.

"You know, I haven't had sex in over a year."

He'd burst out laughing.

"Poor you, Y/N. Me neither."

"I'm so frustrated I actually bought a vibrator. Not that I've had the chance to use it."

Eddie had perked up at that. You parents were always home, either one or the other. And that thing was loud. It was borderline pornographic; even the buzz of it turned you on. The only reason you'd told Eddie about your little problem was the slim chance that he might take pity on you. God, so desperate you'd take a pity fuck from your best friend? Then again, you'd accept any reason he had for him to touch you.

One thing had led to another, like most things did with the two of you, and the night had ended in Eddie offering you the privacy of his own room. And you'd accepted.

Eddie opened the door, looking as if he had been in the middle of something. A thin sheen of sweat covered him. He had his dark curls pulled back into a messy bun, strands clinging to his throat. He was wearing a beaten white tee, the sleeves ripped off, and a pair of stonewashed jeans torn at the knees. He flashed you a smile.

"You're early. Are you that eager?"

It might have been just a joke -- everything was a joke with him -- but you still felt your cheeks heat up at the accusation. It was all you could think about that morning, your new vibrator weighing heavy in your bag. You had a little knot in your belly, which flipped and clenched with anticipation. Every bump in the road to his trailer sent shocks through you and made you clench your thighs.

"I, uh..." You cleared your throat.

Eddie stepped aside, letting you in. "Sorry," he laughed, shutting the door behind you. "Didn't mean to make things awkward. You're still alright with this, yeah?"

You nodded. "Only if you are."

He shoved one hand in his pocket while the other gestured over his shoulder with his thumb. "Well, I'm planning a long walk around the neighbourhood. See whose Christmas decorations are still up and all that. And I'll be in good company." He withdrew a new pack of cigarettes from his pocket. "So, take as long as you need."

"I'll keep the door locked until I'm done. Deal?"

He seemed so nonchalant. So cool about something that was very much not cool. You gripped the strap of your bag with both hands as he nodded and tugged his sneakers on.

"Deal," he said. "And relax, will you?"

"Huh?"

Eddie grinned and opened the new pack. "You're shaking like a leaf, Y/N. If you wanna have a good time, you have to relax. Nobody's walking in on you, okay?"

You took a deep breath. He was right. "Okay."

He put a cigarette between his lips and stepped outside. You heard the door lock behind, and it shook in its frame when he tested it to make sure it was shut firm. You wasted no time, stepping out of your shoes and heading to his bedroom.

It seemed you had interrupted something. You'd never seen Eddie's room so clean. His records were in their sleeves and placed in boxes, his cassettes stacked, and the bed -- God, it was made. You half expected to throw the comforter back to find rose petals and a bottle of champagne. Tingles rushed through you. He really did care about you having a good time.

You undressed, first quickly, stumbling out of your skirt. Then you took a breath. Relax. You undid your shirt, spending time on each button, feeling your skin as you exposed inch after inch. You shivered under your own touch. Over a month of trying to find the privacy. Finally, it was time.

You sat down on the edge of his bed and slipped one hand into your bag. It wasn't large or gaudy. You wanted something compact, subtle. Something gentle for your first toy. And this was perfect. You turned it on and off, testing the three intensity settings, your thighs clenching at the sound of it. You flopped down onto your back. Head against his pillows. You forced yourself to put the toy down beside you, feeling yourself first. Hands skating up your sides, down your thighs, over your tits, scratching your nails over your bra cups.

Hopefully, it's a long walk.

Shit. Shit shit shit.

It had been five minutes and one cigarette before Eddie came sprinting back to the trailer. Sure, he knew that Y/N was in there and needed privacy. But what if Wayne came back early? He had a key and every right to be there. Eddie cringed at the thought of his uncle walking in and hearing... that. Y/N would never forgive him.

So he came running back, deciding to guard the trailer until you unlocked the door. He parked himself on the front step, elbows on his knees, and waited.

Eddie tried to think about his plans for that night. The guys were getting together for a practice sesh at five, and he still needed to finish hammering out the last details for Hellfire's next session. They'd leveled up, and he wanted something to test their mettle.

But the more he tried not to think about you in there, the more his mind turned to it.

How could he say no to you? It was a terrible problem to have -- one he never had to worry about, given how often Wayne was gone. More than that, you were his best friend. And even more than that...

Eddie rubbed his chin. The thought of you laying in his bed, writhing, moaning, pumping that vibrator in and out of your hot, soaked --

He shut his eyes. No. He wouldn't think about that. It wasn't right, in fact it was selfish, using the opportunity to think of you that way. Not that thinking of you that way was anything new to him. But just the thought had desire stirring deep in his belly, his face heating up. He stood up, stretching. Maybe he could walk around the trailer, keep his mind off of it.

But as he rounded the far side, where his trailer faced the woods that stood between the park and the main road, he heard it. That singular buzzing that made his heart stutter and his cock twitch. Unmistakable. He found himself beside the window to his bedroom, the thin drapes drawn but the window cracked open to let out the stifling heat.

Eddie stopped. It was wrong, so, so wrong. But that only made it more fun. He had his back to the trailer, and turned his head just a fraction of an inch. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see your silhouette, stretched languid on the bed.

And you were... Oh, God.

You let the tip brush your nipple, which stiffened to a hard peak at the vibrating touch. You let out a gasp, your free hand playing with your other tit as you circled your nipple with the vibrator. It was on the lowest setting, and already it sent thrills through you. It wasn't the same, but you imagined someone's tongue teasing your stiff peak. Licking, flicking, twisting, biting.

His ringed fingers on your sides, keeping you still.

Fuck. You didn't want to think about Eddie. But you were surrounded by him. His clothes, his music, is scent. You turned your head, your nose pressing into his pillow, inhaling the smell of his shampoo. God, it was wrong. But it felt so good.

You couldn't hold back any longer. One hand grazed down your body until you reached your clit, two fingers spreading your folds. You were already so wet, but you needed more. You brought the vibrator to your lips and dipped it into your mouth, wetting it, as far as your throat would allow. You moaned around it, pretending it was him.

And the second you withdrew it, you touched it to your clit and gasped.

Electric shocks shot through you, a wave of pleasure rising and crashing over you. You let out a groan that turned into a sigh. You spread your legs wider, lifting your clitoral hood and grazing it again, this time just on the side. You couldn't control the moan that fell from your lips. You cunt clenched around nothing, begging for something to squeeze.

Soon, you promised yourself, forcing your ass back down onto the bed -- when had you lifted it? You circled your clit, one way and then the other, pausing where it felt the best. Knots tightened and undid in your belly, your heart racing. It felt as good as an orgasm, and you weren't even close to finishing.

Everything fell away from your consciousness. All you could focus on was that feeling, that buzzing, clenching, gushing, convulsing between your legs.

Eddie had his back against the trailer, palming himself through his jeans. He'd tried to resist, to keep that one boundary uncrossed. But the second you shoved that toy in your mouth and moaned around it, he went from semi- to rock-hard in less than three seconds and had to relieve some of the pressure.

He bit down on his lip, forcing back a groan as he rolled his hips, grinding into his hand. You had your back arched, your chest heaving, perfect tits catching the slat of sunlight that peeked in.

"Oh my God," you exhaled, the pitch of your moans growing higher, higher. "Oh my God, ohmygod..."

Eddie tipped his head back, eyes shut now. He didn't have to watch anymore -- God help him if he was caught. All he needed were the sounds you were making. Your quick, gasping breaths. Your groans, your cusses, your panting. The buzz of the vibrator as it went up one setting.

"Fu-fuck!" you stammered. "God, yes."

Eddie wanted to burst in. To bust open the door and climb on top of you, to show you that if you thought that was good, his mouth could do even better. He licked his lips and squeezed his erection through his pants, aching for more friction.

"More," you gasped, begging yourself to push further. Eddie turned his head and opened his eyes.

You slid the vibrator between your folds, and with a little stinging that quickly turned from pain to pleasure, pushed it inch by delicious inch inside of you. You couldn't decide whether to spread your legs further or squeeze them together. Your knees buckled, your orgasm rapidly approaching.

Your toes curled, one hand clenching the sheets as you dipped the vibrator in and out, slowly, savouring the filthy, wet sounds.

You didn't mean to picture him. But being stretched like that, laying back in his bed, knowing that he knew just what you were doing at that moment, you couldn't help but imagine him leaning over you, grunting with every slow, hard thrust --

"Eddie," you whispered, turning back to muffle your cries in a pillow as white-hot pleasure exploded in your belly and rippled out from you, making your whole body go fuzzy. You slammed the button, forcing the vibrator to its highest setting as you rode out wave after wave as it crashed over you.

All at once, it was too much. Your whole body twitched, overstimulated. You turned the vibrator off and, slowly, pulled out. Wetness gushed between your legs and -- unbeknownst to you -- pooled on the bed.

Lick it. God, please lick it. Half of him was ashamed of the thought, but the other half chanted it like a prayer. Eddie covered his mouth, biting a knuckle as you lifted the vibrator to your lips once again, swallowing it.

"Fuck," he breathed.

You laid there for a few moments, and he could hear you catching your breath. He slipped a hand into his pants, fighting back a moan at the contact and readjusting himself so that he didn't have an obvious boner when you answered the door.

It felt like hours before you unlocked the door, and he was halfway through another cigarette, sitting on the step, when you did. He glanced over his shoulder. Cool, be cool.

"Was it everything they say it is?"

You nodded, and did that cute thing where you tucked your chin down to hide your smile.

"Thanks again," you said, but he barely heard you. You said your goodbyes, and your legs wobbled as you walked back to your car.

If it were up to him, you wouldn't be able to walk at all.

The second you drove off, he stamped out his cigarette and went inside. It was cooler in the trailer, but his skin was burning hot. His shirt was off before he even got to the bedroom. He went over to his records, ready to put one on to mute the sounds he'd make just in case Wayne came home.

Then he stopped. Eddie's gaze slid to his bed, a record in his hands. There was a wet spot on his bed.

Fuck. This was bad. Disgusting.

His pants and boxers pooled at his feet, one knee on the bed, one hand balancing him while he stroked his cock. His tip was bright red, swollen, and soaked. The bed was still warm in places, especially the wet spot. He ground into it, one hand gathering the sheets to rut into them.

Eddie shut his eyes, imagining you cumming around his cock. Soaking it. He let out a high-pitched moan, gnawing at his lower lip at the thought of you licking your juices off of his cock.

He had both knees on the bed now, holding the sheets around his erection, moving his hips as if he were slamming into you. He replayed your moans in his head, every oh God and more. Just minutes earlier, you were here, soaking his sheets.

That thought undid him. Eddie choked on his next moan, hips stuttering as thick ropes of cum shot out, ruining his sheets even more. He let the sheets fall, looking at the mess he'd made but not seeing it. All Eddie could see was you, laying underneath him, mouth open and tongue out.

Let me lick it. God, please, let me lick it.

13K notes · View notes

thenas-heart · 7 months

Text

PRICE OF FAME (PART 7/?)

AHHH HERE SHE IS, i hope you enjoyyy hehe <3

————

18+ — MINORS DNI

pairing: rockstar!eddie x journalist!reader

summary: you and eddie are back to square one...maybe

contains: enemies to lovers trope, themes of sexism/misogyny, smoking, drug and alcohol use, sexual themes, some jealous!eddie, brotherhood, mentions of eddie's dad being shitty, mentions of a sick family member (reader's grandfather), flirting, and eddie being a sorry mf <3

word count: 4.2k

| previous part | next part |

| series masterlist | -main masterlist- |

Eddie very rarely finds the time to go to the studio by himself.

With the busy lifestyle he’s now adopted, he mostly gets his writing done on the road or when he can’t sleep. And Eddie can’t sleep tonight. He doesn’t want to sleep tonight. He can’t seem to find it in himself to give his body and mind the few hours of rest they plead for because Eddie— Eddie fucked up.

The studio is quiet— because nobody in their right mind comes to a recording studio at three in the morning— and Eddie begins to wonder why he even came here if he can’t write a single lyric. Every line that crosses his mind is too little, too much, too mundane— it’s all wrong. Everything is wrong, and Eddie wants to scream.

Eddie takes another hit of the burning cigarette, rubs his eyes in exhaustion, and places his used journal to the side in exchange for his guitar.

He sits on the couch, the quiet room filling out the whirlwind of unsaid words in Eddie’s mind. He strums a soft tune on the wooden instrument, eyes closed and legs propped up on the coffee table. It takes Eddie a few moments to open his eyes when he hears the door open, and he has to blink a few times to clear the fog of fatigue from his eyes.

And Eddie doesn’t even have the energy to roll his eyes and scoff at the sight of Gareth.

He keeps the cigarette between his lips and goes back to plucking his guitar strings, ignoring the shuffling sound of Gareth walking over.

Gareth is quiet for a long time until he clears his throat, “This is good.”

Eddie opens his eyes again and glances over at the brown-haired boy. Eddie’s face pinches in confusion before Gareth raises the journal, and Eddie huffs out a laugh. “No, it’s not.”

Gareth shakes his head, “No, it really is. I like this line,” he points to Eddie’s messy handwriting.

“It’s not going anywhere. I’ve been here for almost two hours.” Eddie brushes it off.

Eddie resumes his peaceful strumming, and Gareth— Gareth just can’t let it go. Because he misses his best friend more than anything in the fucking world, and it hurts. This hurts. The quiet and the unsaid— it hurts.

“I’m sorry.”

And Eddie thinks, fuck, not now.

“Man—” “No, Eddie I… I fucked up.” And Eddie glances at Gareth because Gareth sounds… Gareth sounds like he’s on the verge of something, something that Eddie has rarely seen from his friend.

“I really fucked up, man. And you don’t have to forgive me, but I don’t want you thinking I don’t regret it— because I do.” Gareth looks at Eddie. Clear eyes, so wide and full of what Eddie can only imagine to be sorrow. “I should’ve never done that to you, and I sure as hell shouldn’t have told her— especially because I hadn’t told you.”

And Eddie is so tired of being angry. He’s so tired of feeling the gaping and missing piece of his best friend— and sure, he wishes Gareth never went behind his back and fucked his ex, but he mostly just wishes things would return to normal.

Eddie is silent for a moment, and Gareth almost takes it as an answer, but Eddie finally says, “Did you really love her?”

If Gareth is shocked, he does an excellent job of not showing it. He only swallows and shifts in his seat, “I thought I did… I don’t know, maybe?”

He’s being careful, Eddie knows, and he can’t blame him for it.

“Do you still talk?” Eddie can’t help but ask because he needs to know. He needs to know so he can prepare himself for whatever bullshit he’ll go through later if he ever sees Chrissy again.

To Eddie’s relief, Gareth shakes his head, “No. Not since… no.”

Eddie nods and says nothing else while mindlessly playing his soft tune.

Gareth shifts beside him, glances down at the journal in his hands, and hums, “So… you gonna tell me who this is about?”

Eddie jokingly glares at Gareth and leans forward to set his guitar down. “S’nothing.”

“That’s a lie.”

Eddie raises an eyebrow at his friend, and Gareth takes a deep breath. “Look, man,” he places the journal down, “I’ve seen the way you look at her. And Jeff said he saw you—” “That motherfucker.” Gareth softly laughs but shrugs either way.

Eddie drags a hand over his face and sighs, “I don’t know, it’s… complicated.”

Gareth hums, like he doesn’t believe Eddie, “All I’m saying is if you like her as much as I think you do,” he gestures to the journal, “Then you better act quick.”

And Eddie knows Gareth is right— which is annoying, but he thinks he needs to hear it now more than ever.

Eddie’s not sure when he closed his eyes and dozed off, but by the time he opened them, it was the next day, and Jeff was standing over him with a sly grin. Eddie’s face is twisted in morning confusion and annoyance at Jeff’s proximity, and something heavy is leaning on his side and— “I see you and Gare-bear have made up.” Jeff tips his head to the right of Eddie, and Eddie glances over to where he’s motioned to find Gareth fast asleep with his body leaned against Eddie’s side.

Eddie groans and grimaces as he turns his head, a painful pinch resting at the top of his spine as he shoves his hand against Gareth’s shoulder, voice dry and scratchy from sleep as he speaks, “Shut the fuck up.”

Eddie’s arm tingles under the weight of Gareth, and he grunts, pushing harder at his shoulder, “Gareth, get off me, man; I can’t feel my fucking arm,” Eddie grumbles, shoving the boy off of him, grimacing when Gareth grunts in protest.

Jeff snickers and looks around the room; sheets of paper are scattered across the coffee table, empty beer bottles are strewn on the floor, and a guitar with a busted string lies on the other couch. “Jesus, did I miss the party?” Jeff teases, kicking at an empty beer can as he walks over to the sheet of music on the soundboard, picking it up and glancing over the words.

“What’s this?” Jeff wonders aloud. Gareth opens an eye to see what Jeff is talking about and shifts in his seat as he answers, “Eddie’s apology to the journalist.”

Eddie wipes drool from his mouth as he sits up, leaning over to sift through the rubble for his pack of cigarettes, “Birdie.” He mumbles as he shoves a stick between his lips and lights the end. “Yeah, Birdie.” Gareth sleepily mumbles.

Jeff laughs as he reads over the half-assed written letter. “How drunk were you two shitheads?” He wonders, eyebrows raising at one particular sentence. “And what’d you do that made you finally realize you’re an asshole?”

And Eddie thinks Jeff is asking a lot of questions right now, and Eddie doesn’t have the mental capacity to digest any of them. Gareth snickers beside Eddie, shaking his head with a shrug, moving through Eddie’s cloud of smoke to reach for a beer can, shaking it to see if there’s any drink left before sipping on whatever's there before speaking, “What didn’t he do?” He jokes.

Eddie kicks his heel into the brown-haired boy’s shin, ignoring the spew of curses Gareth sends his way. Jeff tosses the paper back onto the soundboard and turns to the two boys, “Does this have anything to do with her trying to drop the article?”

Gareth shrugs, uninterested in whatever Jeff is insinuating, but the question seems to wake Eddie up quicker than the slow-burning stick between his fingers. “What are you talking about?”

Jeff looks at Eddie as if he’s asked him what two plus two is, “You don’t know?”

Eddie tilts his head, a confused look on his face, irritation lingering on his tone, “Know what, Jeff?”

Jeff’s eyebrows raise, and he lifts his hands in surrender, “Look, Naomi and Birdie were talking at breakfast, and she told Naomi that she’s thinking of dropping the article.” “What do you mean dropping the article, Jeff?”

Jeff gazes at Eddie like he’s lost his mind, “Honestly, man, I don’t know why you’re freaking out when this is literally what you wanted ever since she came along.” He points out, calmly sitting in the desk chair by the soundboard. “I mean, yeah,” Eddie stresses, “But that was before— fuck,” Eddie rubs a hand over his face as he plops back into the plush couch with a heavy sigh. “Before?” Jeff wonders aloud.

“Don’t worry about it.” Eddie snaps.

Gareth snickers again, glancing at Eddie’s depleted state before glaring at Jeff, “Before Eddie fell in love.” He childishly giggles. Eddie glares at his friend, finally finding his shoes and hastily shoving them on, “I’m not in love with her, you fucking idiot,” He swats at Gareth, “I just…” Eddie glances between his two friends before sighing, rubbing his hands over his face again and resting his elbows on his knees. “It’s complicated, okay?”

“Didn’t seem that complicated when I walked in on you two.” Jeff points out, to which Gareth’s jaw drops as he turns to Eddie, “No fucking way. You boned the journalist?—” “Birdie.” “—And Jeff walked in on it? You didn’t tell me that last night!” He exclaims.

Eddie grimaces at Gareth’s words and the fact that he won’t just say your name because, for some weird and obnoxious reason, it pisses Eddie off. “Because it wasn’t like that.” Eddie shakes his head. Jeff makes a face, and Eddie rolls his eyes, “It wasn’t,” Eddie repeats, “Not that it’s any of you fucking losers' business.”

Eddie tries so hard not to seem distracted when they start working on their last song of the album. He tries to put his entire mind, body, and soul into the words and the chorus, but he can’t. Eddie’s mind is somewhere else, wasting away trying to find a way to say sorry and get you to change your mind about abandoning your project because, sure, Eddie’s an asshole when he wants to be, but he has some inkling of remorse and human feelings. He has the ability to feel sorry and know when he’s crossed a line, and clearly, Eddie is far beyond the line.

Eddie’s stomach churns when he thinks about the last night: the look on your face and the tone of your voice, the unmistakable sniffle as you wiped away a stray tear. And Eddie really is a jackass, isn’t he?

Making a kind girl like you cry, telling her she’s ruined everything when all she’s done is stay true to her task. It’s Eddie who’s led you astray, who’s tempted you and poked and prodded until you cracked— and, god, Eddie feels sick to his stomach.

Eddie remembers how that feels. To be pushed and shoved to your breaking point, to where someone breaks you down to the point of giving up. Eddie knows that feeling so well; he dealt with it for so long as a kid before Wayne took him in. Eddie remembers how useless he would feel, how his father would tell him he was stupid and naive for thinking he could be something. And it’s difficult to ignore those harsh words when it’s repeated over and over in your ear, and Eddie can’t believe he let himself do that to you.

Eddie’s kind of frantic when he walks up to you at rehearsals.

He’s fidgety, and he’s aching for a cigarette, and his heart is racing in his chest because Eddie’s not the best at apologies, but he’s also not very fond of the idea of you not being here anymore. As much as Eddie hates to admit it, he likes you being here— because watching you, hearing you, and seeing how you move about a room is addicting. It’s a movie, a show that gets better with every episode, and Eddie has tried so hard to lie and say he can’t stand the show, but fuck, he’s hooked.

You look tired today, uncharacteristically quiet and reserved, making Eddie all the more nervous to break the slight trance you seem to be in. Your lashes flutter as you blink up at him when he approaches you in the backstage hallway, “Can we uh— can we talk?”

You don’t seem eager when he asks, and you don’t sound it either when your eyebrows furrow in distress, and you shake your head, “Honestly, Eddie, I’m not in the mood—” Eddie shakes his head, tone sincere and eyes holding no trace of mischief, “No, I promise it’s not…” Eddie trails off, and you raise your eyebrow, growing impatient with his hesitance.

“It’s about the magazine.” He rushes out. You look confused and unconvinced— and there’s so much going on in the background; staff calling out demands, crew members scrambling to get things done, and Eddie just can’t fucking think. “Well, it’s about you, but it’s also about the magazine— can we step outside?”

Eddie looks away in embarrassment because Eddie doesn’t get flustered very easily these days— there’s not much to get flustered over when you’ve seen it all— but again, Eddie doesn’t do this often— and his neck is heating up, and he knows his cheeks are turning an embarrassing shade of red because you’re looking at him like he’s the biggest idiot known to man.

Eddie drags in a steady breath, teeth digging into his bottom lip, and he grumbles lowly enough for you to hear, thumb brushing the tip of his nose once before speaking, “Come on, don’t make me beg.”

You scoff at that, arms crossing over your chest as you push past him and storm towards the exit, and Eddie follows with a shaky breath.

When Eddie steps out into the alleyway of the venue, you’re leaning against the wall with a deep frown etched across your lips, and Eddie’s fingers twitch for the pack of cigarettes in his pocket. You glare at him, “What’s wrong with you?” You snap. Eddie looks at you silently for a moment, confusion written across his face as he speaks, “Huh?”

You glare as you speak, “You’re being weird.”

Eddie rolls his eyes and clears his throat, shifting on his feet before he starts, “Listen, I uh,” he scratches the back of his neck, “I know we don’t get along and shit but just…” Eddie ignores it when you roll your eyes, “Don’t drop the magazine because of me.”

You’re silent then, for much longer than Eddie would like you to be, and Eddie is thoroughly confused when you scoff, “Excuse me?”

Eddie stuffs his hands in his pockets and glances around the empty alleyway, “Look— believe it or not, we actually kind of need this, and the boys will fucking kill me if I screw it all up, so just… I’m sorry, okay?”

And technically, it’s the truth. It might not be the whole truth as to why Eddie has pulled you aside, but at least there’s some truth to it… right?

You don’t seem too appeased with Eddie’s half-assed apology, considering the way your face doesn't even flinch for what seems like decades. “Well, for starters, I’m not dropping out of the magazine,” and Eddie doesn’t want to unpack the reasoning behind why the tension in his shoulders eased, “And the only reason why I had even debated doing so is because my grandfather is sick, not because some douchebag artist pissed me off.” You snap.

Eddie feels like an ass.

No, he feels worse than an ass, whatever that may be. Eddie feels like he’ll maybe just go back to the hotel and sew his mouth shut because the one time that Eddie tries to fix things, his tongue flaps and spews out bullshit, and then he’s further in the ground than he was, to begin with.

Eddie’s not sure what to do or say because, honestly, he didn’t even think of the possibility that he’s not the reason for you dropping the magazine, and Eddie only then realizes how selfish of a mistake this was. “Can I be honest with you, Eddie?”

Even though you sound and look like you could stab him right now, Eddie thinks you’re absolutely breathtaking. Your eyes are so alive beneath the light of day, and a gentle breeze carries your scent to wrap around Eddie in a dizzying manner. His heart races, and Eddie feels… small.

He hasn’t felt this way in a long time, like he’s damaged things to the point of no return, and it’s all his fault— and usually, it never actually was Eddie’s fault, but this… Eddie can wholeheartedly admit he’s at fault for the agitated look you’re giving him— and Eddie doesn’t know what to do.

Still, Eddie nods— because what else can he do?

“I think we should keep the one-on-ones to a minimum. Better yet, let’s just stop it as a whole.”

“What?”

You take a deep breath, gaze dancing away, seemingly anxious to flee the scene as you speak, “I don’t think this is benefiting either of us— this back and forth. I have work to get done, and honestly, there’s nothing more that I need from you aside from when I interview the band as a group— and seeing as you hate me and I hate you, why don’t we just make our lives easier and stay out of each other's way?”

This isn’t how Eddie imagined things going.

Eddie imagined he would say sorry, and you would give him a pretty smile, and things would go back to… well, not normal, but perhaps something a little better than normal. This is worse than normal. This is so left field of what Eddie had imagined, and Eddie can’t bring himself to say anything.

So, instead, Eddie nods, mumbles a quick agreement, and says nothing more as you leave.

Days pass slower than usual, and you find ways to get busy outside of drafting the magazine. You take frequent walks in Central Park to clear your mind and spend many nights talking to your family over the phone.

Your grandfather is old, and it’s no surprise to the family that he’ll soon see the end of his days, but your mom immediately told you no when you said you would be coming home after getting word of his current state. You weren’t particularly close to your grandfather; you really only saw him once a year around holidays, but you felt the need to be there for your mother, to offer her a shoulder to cry on. However, your mother, ever the sweet lady she is, insisted she would be more than okay with the support of your father and younger sister and demanded that you stay in New York to finish your project.

Still, even though you called home every night, you felt the distance with each goodbye. It ached to be so far from your family at such a time, but the world won’t stop just for you, and time is of the essence in your line of work.

Despite the somewhat gloomy past days you’ve had, each show has given you a moment to breathe and take your mind off the stresses of life. There are two shows of the residency left now, and the boys of Corroded Coffin seem more pumped than ever for the two big nights.

You usually spend time before the show loitering in the green room or waiting out in the crowd, but today, you’ve chosen to have front-row tickets to the chaos that is Corroded Coffin’s dressing room.

There’s a thick fog of smoke dancing through the room; tobacco, weed, and alcohol drenching the walls with their smell as the boys and crew members share drinks and blunts and jokes. You, Jeff, Gareth, and James are gathered in front of the vanity— away from most of the chaos to enjoy light conversation— with Jeff and James sitting in the tall vanity chairs while you and Gareth stand between them both.

“I think we should play something off the new record tonight,” Jeff suggests. Gareth, who’s busy messing with his hair in the mirror, finds the time to respond, “I kind of wanted to do something old. Maybe even a cover?”

James raises an eyebrow, reaching forward onto the vanity desk for a black eyeliner pencil, “You guys are on in like fifteen, man. The stage crew is not gonna be happy about that.” James points out, inspecting the small item before popping the cap off. Gareth snickers as James attempts to apply the eyeliner, “When are they ever happy? Poor guys have to put up with our bullshit every day.”

Naomi comes to stand behind Jeff, draping her arms around his shoulders and resting her chin atop his head. Jeff smirks at her through the mirror, and she smiles, “You agree, right? We should play something new tonight?” Jeff asks his girlfriend, to which she shrugs and glances at both band members, “I don’t see why not. It’s the second to last show, and I’m sure the fans would love it.”

You look over to James as he curses to himself when the pencil tip breaks off. You snicker, not thinking twice, when you step forward to place a hand on his shoulder, “You’re pressing too hard.” You mumble as you gently grab the pencil from him. James watches as you turn to grab the pencil sharpener, shaving off the empty end of the stick until you can see the soft pencil again, “Aw, you’re gonna help me out?” He presses a hand to his chest as you roll your eyes. Whatever conversation Jeff, Gareth, and Naomi are having, you pay no mind to it anymore. “Shut up, take a seat.” You nod to the vanity chair.

James takes a seat, and you shake your head as you step forward, tipping his head back for a good angle as you say, “Remind me again how you’re an artist and still don’t know how to apply eyeliner correctly?” You mumble as you begin softly applying the makeup to his bottom lashline. James smirks, “I can’t be good at everything.” He jokes. You roll your eyes, “Yeah, yeah. Just look up at the ceiling, please.”

And in the corner of your eye, you catch him— Eddie.

He’s watching you and James with the sharpest gaze you’ve ever seen— angry and daring, and it only falters when you turn to look at him. You don’t know why, but your heart seems to rise to your throat, and there is an annoying twist in your stomach when you see how his jaw ticks in anger. You don’t notice it until Eddie’s gaze flickers down, and you suddenly feel the warm heat of James' hand pressed against your waist.

Your body heats at the attention, and you shy away from Eddie’s accusing gaze, returning to your task. Your eyebrows are furrowed in concentration as you apply the makeup, and you try desperately hard to ignore the way James is gazing up at you or the gentle squeezes he gives you when you shift. What’s even harder to ignore is the hole Eddie is burning through your head— and god, why do you feel like this?

Why do you, for some odd reason, wish it was Eddie beneath you? Why do you wish it was Eddie’s hands touching you? Why do you wish Eddie’s brown eyes were gazing at you? Why do you wish it was Eddie’s warm skin beneath your fingertips?

Your body and heart want Eddie for selfish reasons, but deep down, you and Eddie both know it’s best not to venture down the short path you’d started. But that doesn’t mean you don’t think about it. That doesn’t mean you don’t think about what it would be like to have Eddie in all the sinful ways you’d both tasted.

You don’t hear James the first time, but your attention snaps back to him when he gently squeezes your hip, “Huh?” You blink.

James chuckles as you pause your task and gaze down at him. His gaze dances all around your face for a moment, pearly white teeth digging into his smile before he speaks again, “What are you doing tonight after the show?”

And god, why the fuck is James looking at you like that?

You shrug, “Um, I— I don’t know why?” You ask, finishing the last few touches on his makeup. James shrugs, watching as you stand up straight and put the cap back onto the pencil, “I was thinking maybe I can take you out? Like a date?”

You almost choke at that. Your eyes are wide as you blink at James, heart racing and mind a whirlwind of thoughts— and Eddie is still watching you.

You open your mouth to respond, but before you can say anything, Richie bursts through the door with a grin and an exclamation of two words.

Show time.

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part eight

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a/n: ANNNDDD HERE WE ARE, if you've made it to the end and see this, thank you for reading, ilysm and i appreciate any for of feedback, i love to here ur funny, sweet, and smutty thots <3 ALSO A BIG THANK YOU TO @siennamagee FOR THE IDEA OF THE SCENE WITH JAMES, ILY STINK <3 LET THE GROVELING BEGIN !!

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cutie lil taglist: @mastermindmiko @whataboutbibi @ryanmxrie @ihatepeanutss @tlclick73 @motherfckerrr @emxxblog @jesssssmaybankk @eddiesguitarskills @bibieddiesgf @chloe-6123 @micheledawn1975 @demxnicprxncess @emma77645 @sidthedollface2 @daddyhetfield @s-u-t @hereforshmut @mmunson86 @welcometohellsock @lma1986 @birdsinmywalls @animechick555 @sheneedsrocknroll92 @spideydreams00 @lorosette @prestinalove @sirensleepingsoundly @nabiiturner

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thenas-heart · 7 months

Text

PRICE OF FAME (PART 6/?)

HIII this ones a bit spicy, but buckle in, decided to take a little turn in this part so don't hate me <3

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18+ — MINORS DNI

pairing: rockstar!eddie x journalist!reader

summary: eddie realizes his true feelings for you just a little too late

contains: enemies to lovers trope, themes of sexism/misogyny, smoking, drug and alcohol use, sexual themes, more jealous!eddie, masturbation (m), mentions of oral (f receiving), and eddie being a dick <3

word count: 4.2k

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| series masterlist | -main masterlist- |

A 4/4 kick drum is beating in Eddie’s head when he wakes up.

Eddie still hasn’t learned his lesson when trying to outdrink Jeff, so he fails every time, no matter what, because Jeff is a fucking canteen of a human. Eddie does stupid things when he gets as drunk as last night, but the good thing about being blackout drunk is you remember nothing, so there’s not much to regret and cringe about.

There’s a show tonight, and Eddie has to take Wayne to the airport, so unfortunately, Eddie can’t spend the day recovering in his bed, and he’s forced to drag himself out of bed and rinse off the sour smell of alcohol and sex from his skin.

Breakfast has definitely passed, and Eddie curses the crew for not waking him up because his stomach growls as he turns the shower on. As Eddie prepares to hop in the shower, he thinks over what little events he can remember from yesterday because why not torture himself with the embarrassment?

A particular memory doesn’t hit Eddie until he’s halfway through his shower, but god, when it does, Eddie can’t stop thinking about it. Kissing you and pressing into you so close he could’ve sworn he felt the racing beat of your heart against his chest. The feeling of you beneath his fingertips, your hips grinding down onto his with those sinful and pretty sounds falling from your lips and onto his. The taste of your skin bursting in every inch of Eddie’s mouth and the overwhelming desire for more, more, more.

Eddie can’t help it with his head pounding and spinning with the lustful memory of you. He can’t help it when his hands stop doing the job of washing his body and start roaming instead. Can’t help it when his mind starts making up all these different scenarios of him fucking you as he wraps his hand around the base of his cock, stroking up once and running his thumb over the head.

He hisses at the sensitive touch, eyes fluttering as he adjusts his grip and begins stroking himself. The shower wall is cool against his back when he shifts to lean against it, the sharp contrast of the cold wall and steaming hot water hitting his chest and rolling onto his cock, sending shivers up his spine.

Eddie lets his mind wander. He thinks about you and how he wants to pull more of those pretty sounds from you. He wants to lick into your mouth and sink his fingers into you so he can taste your moans as he plays with you. He wants to see how wet he can get you with just his fingers before you’re asking for more. He wants to unwrap you like a present and lay you down to part your thighs and sink to his knees, part your folds, and marvel at the way you drip and throb for him. And Eddie wonders if you would let him taste you. He wonders if you would let him suck pretty marks into your thighs until you’re whining and begging him to give you something.

“What do you want, princess? Gotta tell me what you want first.”

Eddie doesn’t even get far enough to think about sinking his cock into you before he’s cumming in spurts, white sticky ropes of cum splattering onto the shower floor as he curses and moans, chest heaving and wet hair sticking to his flushed cheeks. And Eddie’s cock is always sensitive in the morning, but he can’t seem to stop stroking himself with the image of you in his mind because fuck, he wants you, even if it’s almost painful.

And he hates that.

He hates that he wants you. Hates that he thinks about you all the way through his second orgasm— hates that he doesn’t stop thinking about you even after the fact. He hates that he thinks about you as he finishes showering and gets dressed for the day. He hates Jeff for barging in and ruining whatever could’ve happened between you two yesterday. He hates that he remembers thinking about you when he was fucking Lany into his hotel bed last night. And he hates that he can still smell her on his sheets because all Eddie wants to smell, see, hear, and touch is you. And he fucking hates it.

Yet, his chest blooms when he sees you at rehearsal. He gets that weird feeling in his chest where warmth spreads like a firework and bounces around his insides— and he gets so distracted that he fucks up a chord on the riff he was playing. No one seems to notice, so he pays no mind and keeps watching you.

And Eddie thinks about what Wayne told him this morning as they shared a quick hug before final departure, “Don’t chase that girl away, son. She’s good.”

Eddie chose not to think too hard about what Wayne meant by that.

He’s thankful he decided to wear sunglasses today because Eddie can’t seem to take his eyes off you. You look good, the way you styled your hair is different, and you’re wearing flared jeans that wrap around your ass and thighs perfectly with a fitted white top that hugs you in all the right places; Eddie, for some selfish reason, wants to believe you wore that to grab his attention. Mission accomplished.

You wander off somewhere near the end, and Eddie tries not to seem too eager when rehearsal wraps up, but he makes a beeline toward Richie and asks where you went.

Richie is too busy to ask why Eddie’s asking about you, but his questioning tone isn’t hidden when he tells Eddie you went to the snack room.

Eddie’s chest does that weird thing again when he walks into the room, fingers itching at the memory of how it felt to hold your hand. You’re standing over the snack table with your back facing Eddie when he walks up, clearing his throat to grab your attention. He frowns when you don’t turn around, but then Eddie realizes you have headphones covering your ears, so he gently taps your shoulder.

You seem startled when you turn to him, wide and pretty eyes blinking in realization as you remove your headset. “Were you saying something?” You ask.

Eddie says the first thing that comes to mind, “What are you listening to?”

“Oh,” you blink, “Um, Cass Elliot.”

Hippie shit.

You turn around to grab water from the table, and Eddie thinks this may be a bad idea because he doesn’t even know what he wants to say to you. Usually, Eddie is the one to give short and dead responses because he can’t stand you, but for the first time since he’s met you, the roles are reversed.

“Think we can finish that interview? Before the show, maybe?” Eddie asks. And god, this is embarrassing— he needs a smoke.

You turn to him again and shrug, “Nah, I think I've got enough on everyone now. I really only need the group interview now. See you tonight!”

And then you’re gone.

And Eddie thinks, what the fuck?

This isn’t how things are supposed to go. Eddie is the snippy one, and you’re the sweet one that’s way too nice to Eddie despite his disgusting attitude and bitchy personality.

Eddie’s bothered for the entire day, catching glimpses of you talking to band and crew members and James— fucking James.

Eddie wants to believe what you said yesterday, “No, nothing is going on between me and James.” but does James know nothing is going on between the two of you? Because it doesn’t fucking look like he does. Not when he keeps leaning in to talk to you, or when he shares a bag of chips with you, or when he’s practically attached to your hip for the entire day.

It’s pathetic, really, the way James is fiending for every second of your attention, and it pisses Eddie off that you’re buying into it. Showtime rolls around, and Eddie does a few lines with the band to get himself amped up before stepping on stage and playing like hell. Eddie keeps his eye on you throughout the show, and he pays the price when he sees James teaching you how to use his camera, wrapping his arms around your frame and whispering instructions in your ear as you test out taking pictures of the stage. Eddie’s chest stirs with something he doesn’t quite enjoy, and it only intensifies when he sees James drop a hand to gently rest against your hip, watching as a smile stretches across your lips in excitement when you show him the picture you’d captured.

Eddie pops a string when he sees it happen, cursing into his mic, shoving his guitar pick between his lips, and angrily removing the guitar to quickly swap it out with the spare one handed to him from the side stage. Eddie plays the rest of the show with an angry heat running through his body, and he thinks you might be doing this on purpose. Flirting around with James right in his face to make him jealous, and Eddie swears he won’t fall for whatever shitty plan this is, but fuck, do you play dirty.

You never join the band in their post-show shenanigans, but tonight, you decide to tag along for some reason— or rather, someone.

Fucking James.

Eddie thinks he should just fire him at this rate. Get rid of the problem at the root and burn the stem so it never returns because fuck James. He makes you laugh, he’s gentle with you, and he can sweet talk like a motherfucker, and Eddie knows that because he’s been on the receiving end before— he’s well aware of James and his undeniable charm. And he can’t believe you’re falling for it.

Eddie takes endless shots, trying to blur out the distasteful sight of you pressed against James’ side in the booth, talking about god knows what. The night ends relatively early since everyone is a bit tired from the day and the longer day they have planned for tomorrow, so everybody is in their respective rooms by the time the clock strikes one in the morning. But Eddie can’t seem to fall asleep— especially not with the knowledge that James definitely didn’t go to his room but instead followed you into your room. Eddie doesn’t like that.

Eddie paces his room for some time before he breaks and finds himself knocking on your door. You don’t answer for a moment, and Eddie suddenly thinks he might be strong enough to knock down a heavy oak wood door. Maybe Eddie shouldn’t have smoked before coming here. He always swears the weed will take the edge off, but in reality, it makes him dumber and more impulsive than before, as seen a few days ago when he was right in the same position— knocking on your door at an ungodly hour of the night.

Eddie raises a hand to knock again, but he’s relieved of the job when you swing the door open in nothing but a white robe, drops of water running down the sides of your neck and dripping between the valley of your chest. Eddie wants to drink up every last drop.

“Is James in here?” Eddie asks.

And maybe Eddie shouldn’t have started with that because now you look like you want to punch him in the throat. Your eyebrows furrow as your face twists in a look of annoyance, “You seriously have a fucking problem, Eddie.” You snap.

“Excuse me?”

“Why do you always come here in the middle of the night to ask me stupid questions?” You ask.

Eddie glances over your shoulder, scanning the room for any signs of a dark-haired and tattooed man, but he finds none and seems to find some ease in that. You step into his line of sight, raising your eyebrows questioningly, and Eddie blinks. “I thought you two weren’t a thing.” He says, and you roll your eyes.

“This again? Honestly, why do you care, Eddie?” Your tone teeters on the edge of impatience, and Eddie steps closer, the clean scent of your body wash invading his senses. “Are you?”

“No. I already told you, again, not that it’s any of your business—” “Does James know that?” He cuts you off.

You blink at Eddie in confusion, “What?”

Eddie’s getting tired of repeating himself because he knows you can hear him loud and clear, and you’re just avoiding giving him an answer. Eddie steps closer, practically inside your room and towering over you, and he can’t help it when his eyes dart to your lips and the clear view of your damp chest. “Does James know that you’re not into him?” He repeats.

You gaze up at Eddie, eyes narrowing as you repeat your question from earlier, “Why do you care?”

“You’re doing this on purpose,” Eddie grumbles, fingers curling into the palms of his hands to restrain from reaching out and touching you. And you’re making it so hard, standing there and gazing up at him with these eyes that dare him to do something— reach out, touch me, feel me.

You tilt your head as you speak, a sly grin dancing across your lips, “Don’t tell me you’re jealous.” You mock.

Eddie laughs softly and humorlessly, “Why would I be jealous of him, princess?” He hums, stepping closer once again, forcing you to step back into the entryway of your room to make room for Eddie to step in fully. His gaze falls again, and you run the tip of your tongue along your bottom lip, “Does he know what you feel like?” Eddie asks. “What I feel like?”

Eddie mindlessly shuts the door behind him, the air thickening with tension in the room as he inches a little closer. So close and yet not close enough. “Yeah. Does he know what your pretty moans sound like? Does he know how you taste, hm?”

You’re sharing breaths now, so close to one another that your lips are brushing against his as you speak, “Do you know how I taste?” You tease. Eddie hums, “Not the best part.”

He presses his lips to yours, soft moans leaving you both at the sudden contact as he finally reaches out and lets his hands roam your body. The robe you have on is thick and soft, but it’s not what Eddie wants to touch. He wants to feel the warmth of your skin and squeeze and grab at the soft and thick parts of you until you moan for more.

You blindly stumble further into your room, lips busy moving against one another with tongues fighting for dominance. And Eddie thinks you give the most addicting kisses he’s ever had; every movement is right and sends bursts of colors behind his eyelids, sloppy and wet but so fucking good to the point where he wishes he could kiss you forever.

“The best part?” You manage to say between kisses. Eddie hums in distracted confusion, advancing to kiss you harder as you drop onto your bed. Eddie towers over you, palms sinking into the plush material of the comforter. “What’s the best part?” You ask.

Eddie’s lips curl into a smirk, smattering kisses down your neck as his fingers dance across your robe to the loose knot holding it closed. He moves back to kiss you as he tugs on the fluffy, thick string, and you gasp against his lips when his cool fingers sneak into the open robe and skim across your warm stomach. “The best part,” Eddie begins, leaning down to nip at your jaw as his hands roam your bare skin. “The best part is what’s sitting between these pretty thighs of yours, sweetheart.” He sucks at the skin of your neck, and you mewl as his fingers squeeze at your thigh, pushing your knees apart to open you up for him.

And Eddie has every intention to fuck you right now. He’s been dreaming about what it’d be like to lick into your sweet cunt, to sink his cock in you and watch as every coherent thought melts from your brain, to make you cum over and over until you’re begging him to stop.

But suddenly, you’re pushing Eddie away, a shaky palm pressing into his chest as your thighs squeeze shut, “I-I can’t,” you shake your head, “You have a girlfriend.”

And well, this is news to Eddie. “I have a what now?”

Your lips are pouty and cute, and Eddie wants to go back to kissing you, but you’re wriggling your way out from beneath him and padding across the floor to your desk. Eddie sits on the edge of your messy bed, palming his neglected cock as he watches you grab a newspaper and walk back over to him. He tries his best not to stare at the sway of your breasts beneath your open robe or the cute little panties he gets a glimpse of, but he fails and throbs beneath the palm of his hand. You stand in front of him with a frown, handing the paper to Eddie as he gazes up at you with wide eyes and swollen lips.

Eddie isn’t sure what this is, and the only thing running through his mind is the incessant need to get off, but he humors you anyway and snatches the paper with a look of boredom. You adjust your robe back around your body and cinch it tighter than before, and Eddie mentally mourns the loss of his moment to finally see those pretty tits you’ve been teasing beneath those tight shirts of yours. He flips the newspaper upright and grazes over the page until he sees it— “Corroded Coffin lead singer, Eddie Munson, new girlfriend debut!”

It’s a blown-up picture of Eddie leaving the club, a drunken and sly smirk plastered across his lips with a pretty little redhead he likes to frequently fuck wrapped around his arm— Lany.

Summer of ‘87 Corroded Coffin went on their very first tour. It was three months long, only covered about four states, and was mostly a shitshow, but the boys were just happy to have booked an actual tour— something bigger than The Hideout.

Groupies didn’t come around until about halfway through the tour— and look, Eddie had his fair share of men and women by that time, but it was different when they were practically throwing themselves at Eddie, and he didn’t have to work for it.

Lany was Eddie’s first groupie. Sweet and pretty with a silky smooth voice and a wicked mouth that blew Eddie’s little inexperienced mind. Lany and her group of friends tagged along with Corroded Coffin for the rest of their tour, and when Eddie asked Lany where he could find her, Lany simply responded with a sweet, “I’m never where I should be, you know that. I’ll find you when you go big.” And a kiss.

And she did. Eddie didn’t see Lany for years until their second world tour and they were now on their fifth, so it’s safe to say, Lany is a fucking veteran of a groupie.

But Lany isn’t Eddie’s girlfriend.

Far from it, actually, and Eddie’s not sure why the paparazzi are all of a sudden interested in whatever groupies he’s fucking because they usually could care less. Nothing is interesting about Eddie Munson fucking a random girl nobody knows, so who gave them the idea that they’re not only fucking, but dating?

Despite the confusion reeling through Eddie’s mind, something else overtakes and he snickers, glancing up at you with a smug grin, “You been reading up on me, sweetheart?” He teases.

Your expression switches to one of annoyance as you snatch the newspaper out of his hands, ignoring the smirk plastered across his lips as you huff, “No, I— it came with the room service I ordered.” You fold your arms over your chest.

Eddie’s teeth dig into his lower lip as he stands up and steps toward you, tilting his head tauntingly as he speaks, “And you read it, and what? Got jealous?”

Eddie has you trapped against the edge of your desk now, and his fingers skim the warmth of your fingers as he takes the paper from your hand. “This is fake news, princess.” He says with a mocking glint in his eye. He tosses the piece onto the desk and you glance at it, a frown etched deep into your lips.

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Eddie assures you, leaning forward to smear kisses across your jaw. You shift beneath him, finger coming up to dig into the flexing muscle of his arms as he snakes his hands around your hips, pulling you closer. “She’s at every show. And you go out together all the time.” You point out beneath a needy breath.

“Because she’s a groupie, sweetheart. She goes everywhere I go, that’s kind of the point.”

Eddie rucks you up against him, sucking another bruise into your skin and reeling at the noise you make. “That’s mean…” You mumble, and Eddie laughs against your skin. “It’s not mean if it’s the definition.” He argues.

“So what, you got jealous of a groupie? You want a chance to be my groupie, hm? That’s why you’re upset, princess?” He noses at the skin below your ear before licking the spot and smiling when you shiver against him. Then, for the second time tonight, you’re pushing Eddie away with a disgruntled look. You shake your head, trying to collect your thoughts as your chest heaves in hidden excitement from Eddie’s teasing. “I’m not— I’m not some groupie, Eddie.”

And Eddie looks at you like you’ve just said the sky is blue, “I’m a journalist. I came here to work and you…” You pause and blink at Eddie as if thinking over your following words, “You’re just getting in the way.”

And Eddie doesn’t like that. He doesn’t like the way it sounds or the way you said it or the way it makes him feel. He hates it.

“Getting in the way?”

“Yes, Eddie, you’re getting in the way,” You snap, irritation heavy within your tone. “I’ve been patient with you this entire time, but you just— you’re such a fucking asshole. I mean— none of this should be happening— this,” you gesture between the two of you, “shouldn’t be happening.”

Eddie’s face pinches in defense, “Nothing is happening here, birdie.”

And you scoff, shaking your head as you speak, “Then why are you here, Eddie?”

And this is the first time either of you has pointed out the obvious mix of feelings stirring between you both, and it makes Eddie’s skin run cold— because he doesn’t know. He doesn’t know why he’s here. He doesn’t know why your words are upsetting him. He doesn’t know why he hates it when James is around you. He doesn’t know why every time he thinks of you or sees you he gets that warm rush in his chest— he just knows it’s there.

And it scares Eddie. It scares Eddie to realize that he was wrong about you, to realize that you aren’t all those mean things he said about you, to realize that maybe he likes you a lot more than he’d like to admit. It scares him.

Eddie shakes his head like the words are in there but can’t seem to say them, and he hates it. He hates feeling this way. He hates knowing that he fucked this up way worse than he’d thought because you’re looking at him like you never want to see him again. And you have every right. Because Eddie has put you through more than enough, and honestly speaking, there isn’t a single way Eddie sees this turning in his favor. He’s ruined everything before anything could even happen.

And Eddie hates that.

Your arms slink around your body to protectively shield your frame, and Eddie can visibly see you shrinking into yourself, and he can’t believe he’s the reason why. It hits Eddie like a fucking freight train. All the weeks of tormenting and mean games Eddie has played with you, it’s all bullshit. It was Eddie’s way of protecting himself, and in the end, he only ended up hurting the most delicate and kind person he thinks he’s ever met.

“I think you should go.” You softly say.

And you can’t even look Eddie in the eyes, and Eddie wants to scream. He wants to pull you in, spew out apologies, and beg for any sliver of forgiveness you can give, but you— you’re too far gone. Eddie pushed you off the ledge and watched you drift away, only to cast a rope at the last second. But Eddie’s rope is too short, and you’re gone.

Still, even though Eddie knows he’s done enough damage, his pride wins him over, and on his way out, he turns to say his last piece, “You know, everything was fine until you came along. This is exactly why I didn’t want you here.”

And you both know what he’s talking about. The mixed feelings and the drama— all of it. None of it would’ve happened if you never came along, and even if Eddie thinks he wishes you never happened, he knows he feels the opposite. You both know it.

And if Eddie sees the tiny glimpse of you wiping at your face, he doesn’t mention it. He only leaves you with his words and the slamming of the door.

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part seven

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a/n: HELLO U MADE IT TO THE END! I HOPE THE GIRLIES ARENT TOO MAD W ME, IK EVERYONE WANTED READER TO HAVE HER MOMENT SO WE GOT A LITTLE SNIPPET OF IT HERE BUT ITS ONLY THE BEGINNINGGG !! as always, thank u for making it to the end and i always love to hear how you feel about it !! <3

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cutie lil taglist: @mastermindmiko @whataboutbibi @ryanmxrie @ihatepeanutss @tlclick73 @motherfckerrr @emxxblog @jesssssmaybankk @eddiesguitarskills @bibieddiesgf @chloe-6123 @micheledawn1975 @demxnicprxncess @emma77645 @sidthedollface2 @mvnsonslvt @s-u-t @hereforshmut @mmunson86 @welcometohellsock @lma1986 @birdsinmywalls @animechick555 @sheneedsrocknroll92 @spideydreams00 @lorosette @prestinalove @sirensleepingsoundly @eddielives1986

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thenas-heart · 7 months

Text

PRICE OF FAME (PART 5/?)

HEHEHE THIS ONES PACKED W LOTS OF... STUFF, ENJOYYYY!!!

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18+ — MINORS DNI

pairing: rockstar!eddie x journalist!reader

summary: eddie doesn't think he hates you anymore and you can't figure out eddie's game

contains: enemies to lovers trope, smoking, drug and alcohol use, sexual themes, masturbation (f), maybe a little kith (hehe), flirting, and eddie being a jealous boy <3

word count: 6.5k

| previous part | next part |

| series masterlist | -masterlist- |

The four-day break seems to go by in the blink of an eye, and before you know it, it’s show day again.

As always, everybody is busy and filled with pre-show jitters. Although Eddie and Gareth have yet to speak with one another and resolve their dispute, breakfast is not as tense as last time, and you assume the time away from each other has aided in that realm. But then again, you have an inkling that Eddie is only putting up a nice front for Wayne since it’s his last day in New York.

Eddie is stiff and rigid throughout the morning, taught as a guitar string and vividly battling something he has yet to announce. He’s quiet at breakfast and only speaks when directly addressed, and he doesn’t taunt any back and forth that could transpire between him and Gareth. Jeff’s girlfriend joins the table for the first time, and you sit beside her.

Naomi is kind and bubbly with tight, curly brown strands that smell of honey and lime whenever she brushes past you. She’s from a small town in Georgia, where she spent most of her life before going off to college and getting a bachelor's in fine arts. She tells you about her most recent projects and showcases and even invites you to attend if you’re ever in town, and you take her number to keep in contact.

Jeff has radiant energy throughout the meal, and you think he and Naomi make a fine couple with how they seem to complete each other.

After breakfast, you make a few calls for work and fill in Anna on your progress. She informs you that they’re working on setting a date for Corroded Coffin’s photoshoot for the magazine and should be in contact with Richie sometime soon. When Anna asks how the trip has been so far, you lie and tell her it’s been seamless and fun.

You never told Anna about Eddie hating your guts, and you don’t even debate telling her that you’ve somehow stirred the pot between two of the band members or that you kissed the lead singer.

You’re still having a hard time convincing yourself that it was even real.

For a moment, when you woke up this morning, you thought you’d dreamt of kissing Eddie, but no dream ever feels as vivid as that.

You could feel the warmth radiating from Eddie’s body, the coolness of his rings stinging your cheeks when he placed his hands over your jaw to pull you in. The taste and smell of weed mixed in with the worn-down scent of his cologne from the day. And the kiss was so quick, and you were so sleepy you barely had enough time to memorize what his lips felt like or how the feeling of his warm breath against your upper lip sent shivers down your spine.

It left you in a daze for most of the day. Every time you remembered what had happened, your heart raced and the back of your neck heated— and you wanted to ask Eddie what the fuck that was about, but Eddie was nowhere to be found.

After breakfast, Eddie practically falls off the face of the earth. Nobody hears from or sees Eddie, and he doesn’t even show up for rehearsals, which is when Richie becomes suspicious.

“Has anybody fuckin’ seen Eddie, for the love of god?” Richie exclaims. Off to the side, the bass player plucks a deep tune in boredom. Standing center stage, Jeff looks at Richie and shakes his head before glancing at the other two members. Gareth sits behind his drum set, twirling the thick drumsticks between the knuckles of his fingers, lower jaw promptly working a piece of gum as he shrugs. His eye looks better, you note.

And that’s another thing. Gareth has been avoiding you like the plague. You didn’t talk to him much before, but now it’s as if you don’t even exist, and fuck is it making your job more complicated than it already is. How are you supposed to write about Corroded Coffin when half of the said band hates your guts?

Wayne had been spending the day at the hotel, preparing to fly back tomorrow morning, so you doubt he knows where his nephew went. Richie asked an assistant to check if Eddie was being a hermit in his room, but to nobody’s surprise, Eddie wasn’t there either.

By the time 8 o’clock rolls around, the doors to the venue have opened for fans to flood in, and Eddie is still yet to show up. You stand in front of the barricade, a perfect and obstructed view of the stage where you can see everything, including the hustle backstage.

Wayne has opted for a seat next to the sound booth in the crowd, claiming he’d rather not spend the next few hours standing on his feet, “When you’re older, you’ll understand.” He claimed.

You enjoy the opening act, bopping along and singing to the lyrics you know, and before you know it, the band is leaving, and the clock for Corroded Coffin’s appearance is ticking— still, no word from Eddie.

You’re busy watching the stage crew set up Corroded Coffin’s display when a familiar face approaches you. “How’s the article coming along?”

James, one of the three tour photographers for Corroded Coffin. You sat next to James on day five of breakfast. James is kind, and with your little snippets of conversation, you’ve come to peg him as not exactly what you’d expect.

James’ skin is littered with tattoos, sleeves up both arms with intricate ink slithering up his neck. You’d ask him how many tattoos he has in total, and he’d confessed that he lost count a long time ago and has now resulted in just throwing out a random number when people ask, to which you laughed.

He has jet-black curly hair that you’ve only seen at breakfast because he likes to slick it back most days, and he has piercings in each ear and one on his right eyebrow.

He’s a character, James. Intimidating from the outside, but nothing but soft, fluffy teddy bear warmth on the inside.

“It’s… well, it’s going. I’ve still got a bit of work to do, but so far, so good.” You nod. James smiles and nods, “I’m excited to see the final product. I won’t lie, after we spoke at breakfast, I did a little digging,” he responds. You raise your eyebrows in interest, “Digging?”

“Yeah, you know, looked at some of your past work and whatnot— which, by the way, the piece on the Cocteau Twins was insane,” He exclaims. Your eyes widen, “Really? Not many people talk about that one; I didn’t think it got around.” You laugh.

James tells you about his favorite pieces of yours he read, and he asks questions about each one of them. What your favorite interview was, who were you most excited to write about, and which of your works is your favorite piece so far.

You eventually end up talking about James and his current projects aside from the tour. He tells you about the new exhibit he’s partnering with in downtown LA. It’s an immersive piece, something new in the art world where the audience, for the first time, will get to experience art in a more tangible way. It’s more interactive and fulfilling for those who struggle to grasp the full context behind the art, and James seems more than excited about it when he tells you to stop by if you have the time.

However, before you can respond, the lights in the venue dim, and the crowd roars.

This has always been your favorite part of a show, that moment when the lights cut off and the arena comes to life with a shared excitement. It’s exhilarating and pulls you to the edge of your seat, no matter how often you’ve seen it.

Through the smoke-filled venue and the dark atmosphere, you can see each of the boys file out onto the stage, Gareth spinning his drumsticks between his knuckles as he steps onto the drum riser while the other two grab their instruments. Three members are on stage, and you remember that Eddie has been missing in action for the entire day.

The crowd grows louder when they see the shadows of the boys on stage, screaming their names and chanting in anticipation. And as he shreds the first chords to the opening song, you worry that Eddie really might’ve skipped out on tonight’s show.

You’re happily mistaken, however, because soon you see another figure step out, and the crowd goes deafeningly loud.

Beside you, James smiles and shakes his head, “Shit never gets old,” he yells over the screams.

And your heart is racing for some reason as you watch the tall figure walk in the darkness, curly mane of hair akin to a halo as he steps up to the mic, electric guitar strapped across his body.

He leans into the mic and says a few words, words you don’t even hear due to how loud the crowd is, but you feel the gruffness and bass of his voice booming through the speakers, and you nearly mistake it for your heartbeat.

Because when the song finally starts and the stage lights go up, you’re at a loss for words.

Eddie is gorgeous, undeniably so; he always has been, and you never thought he wasn’t. The only thing that got in the way of Eddie’s beauty was his shitty attitude towards you. But this… the way Eddie looks tonight— you’re a speechless and wavering mess of mixed feelings.

Tonight, Eddie is beautiful.

His hair is down as usual, curly and healthy strands sitting pretty atop his shoulders, and he’s opted to play the show in nothing but leather pants and his usual boots.

His upper body is on full display, broad shoulders, and muscles flexing with each strum of his guitar, back muscles working overtime as he trashes along to the music. He’s covered in a thin sheen of sweat, tattoo-covered skin glistening beneath the lights, and you want nothing more than to run your hands down his chest and watch the way it smudges beneath your fingertips.

When the second song finishes, Eddie’s chest is heaving as he pauses and looks out into the crowd, scanning the rows with a lopsided, smug grin.

You can hear faint pants leaving his lips as he leans into the mic, jewelry-wrapped fingers hugging the fret of his guitar. He gazes in silence for a moment, listening to the cheers of the crowd that pull the corners of his mouth into a wider grin. And you don’t even notice the rest of the band on stage because all you see and hear is Eddie.

You hold your breath when his eyes find yours, and your knees nearly buckle at the sight of his dark eyes shining beneath smudged, black eyeliner.

“Fuck,” he breathes with a smile, softly laughing when the crowd screams at his voice, “Do you look good tonight, New York.”

And he’s saying this and looking at you.

He is staring at you like he can see through to your soul, and it makes your head dizzy with a whirlwind of emotions and greedy wishes.

You don’t even realize you’re holding your breath until Eddie finally looks away from you and into the crowd, “Are you ready to have a good time, New York?”

Eddie has never, in all his years of living, played as well as he did tonight.

He’s not sure what exactly caused this; maybe the fact that Wayne is in the crowd tonight, or perhaps because he’s still pissed with Gareth, or maybe because he can’t stop thinking about kissing you, or probably because he hates the way you and James won’t stop fucking talking to each other.

Eddie doesn’t know why it pisses him off to see you laughing and enjoying the company of James, but it does. It ticks him off to no end, and he can’t help the feeling that brews in his chest when you lean forward to hear James over the music or when James innocently squeezes your bicep to get your attention before he says something.

By the middle of the show, Eddie has had enough. He’s four shots of tequila in, and he’s feeling bold with the crowd's energy, so when his infamous guitar solo in one of the songs comes, he doesn’t stand center stage as usual.

No, Eddie makes sure to walk over and stand right in front of where you and James stand and play his solo like it’s the last time he'll ever play.

It’s a sinful view, and the crowd goes wild, the big screens zooming in on his skilled fingers dancing across the frets, the flexing of his wet torso, the flutter of his lashes when he closes his eyes and tosses his head back. His lips are slick and parted in ecstasy from the adrenaline high.

And Eddie can feel your eyes on him. Can feel the heat of your gaze burning through every inch of his body, rolling over every movement he makes and taking him in like he’s a prized possession in a museum. He thrives off of it, and he plays harder.

When his solo ends, Eddie doesn’t bother looking at the crowd or James or his band; no, Eddie only looks at you, making sure you understand what he’s trying to say through his eyes. And for a moment, Eddie wishes James would turn the camera away from him and capture your beauty instead— because you look like an angel under red lights.

Eddie has only allowed himself small moments to appreciate the sight of you, but now, he is greedy with the upper hand he has. He takes in every piece of you; your hair, your eyes, your lips, the delicate necklace kissing the skin of your collarbones— and Eddie wants to run his tongue up the side of your neck and hear you whimper for him. Wants to dig his teeth into your skin until you keen and whine and beg him for more more more.

The skirt you’re wearing, god, it’s fucking short, and Eddie imagines the way your skin would feel beneath his fingers, pressing into the fat of your thighs and marveling when the skin gives way to the pressure. Hot and messy fingerprints all around your hips and ribs. Teeth bearing marks across your stomach and chest. Eddie is dizzy with lust and need, and he feels like a fucking animal writhing and waiting to pounce.

Greedy, greedy, greedy.

He wants it all.

The rest of the show goes back and forth like that. Eddie catches glimpses of you and James talking and takes it upon himself to direct your attention back to the stage— back to him. Near the end, James finally focuses on his fucking job and busies himself with taking pictures instead of flirting with you, and Eddie walks off the stage feeling satisfied.

The band does their meet and greet backstage and signs a few autographs before they can do their usual post-show rituals: drinking, playing games, and making plans to go out.

Despite his love for post-show rituals, Eddie wants nothing to do with it tonight because he can only focus on you.

You’re standing with James and a stage crew member, talking about something Eddie could care less about, given how he cuts into the conversation, “Can we talk?”

Your eyes are wide and bright when you turn to him, shocked by Eddie’s ability to even acknowledge you, and Eddie thinks about last night and how your lips felt against his. “Um… talk?”

Eddie’s still high on post-show energy, and he doesn’t like that James is standing so close to you, so he takes a leap of faith and wraps a hand around your wrist, gently tugging with a short nod, not even waiting for an answer before he turns and drags you out of the green room.

He doesn’t know at what point his fingers traveled down your wrist to slip between your warm and gentle fingers, but he becomes hyper-aware of it as soon as you both step out into the hallway, the slam of the door echoing behind you, “Eddie, where are you taking me?”

Eddie glances back at you, fingers subconsciously squeezing yours, “Dressing room. I wanna do the interview.” He answers.

You halt at his response, heels digging into the cement floor and tugging Eddie back, “What?”

The heat of your palm is burning through Eddie’s skin, and he’s not sure if he’ll be able to stop himself from what he wants to do if he continues touching you, so he lets go. “The interview.”

You shake your head and squeeze your eyes, “No, I heard you, but… I mean,” you pause, “why? And why now? This can’t wait until—“

“Look, if you don’t want to do it now, that’s fine, but I’m not doing it any other time.” He doesn’t wait for an answer before turning around and continuing to walk towards his dressing room.

You silently watch for a moment, clearly confused by the sudden change of heart, but you nod either way and follow after him.

Eddie hardly pays any mind to you when you walk in behind him, busying himself with walking over to the bar cart and pouring himself a glass of the first bottle he sees. Glancing over his shoulder, Eddie notices you awkwardly standing near the door and snickers. “You can take a seat, sweetheart; I didn’t bring you here to, like… chew you out or something.” He jokes.

He makes you a glass despite not asking, and when he turns around, you’re now seated on the light brown couch in the middle of the room, hands fiddling in your lap as you silently wait for Eddie.

He sits on the opposite side of the couch and places the second glass on the coffee table, wordlessly nudging it toward you before leaning back in the seat and taking a long sip.

“Where’s your cute little journal?”

You’re confused.

You don’t understand the game Eddie is playing, and it’s driving you insane the longer you look at him, leaned back against the plush couch, smug smirk kissing the rim of his glass as he takes a slow sip, brown, hazy eyes glazing over your nervous figure. The sheer button-down top he now wears is fully unbuttoned to reveal his sweat-glistening torso, leather pants hug his thighs, snug and tauntingly, the button popped open and zipper pulled down to show the sinful sight of a trail of hair that leads to places you’ve been trying so desperately not to imagine. You don’t mean to stare, and you catch yourself when he shifts his hips upward to get more comfortable, the sight of his lower stomach flexing and tattoos coming alive on his skin sending shivers up your spine.

You clear your throat and turn to grab your journal out of your bag. You haven’t had the time to buy a new journal after you ruined the binds by tearing out those pages for Eddie, so you must handle the remaining structure carefully.

You take a deep breath and flip to a clean page, clicking your pen once before glancing at Eddie, “Okay, I guess we’ll… start.”

Eddie smirks, and you want nothing more than to wipe it away.

You open your mouth to ask your first question, but Eddie cuts you off, “I have a proposition,” he begins.

You look at Eddie, blinking once and thinking over if you want to indulge in whatever trick this is. You relent, “Okay?”

Eddie smiles triumphantly and leans forward to put his glass on the table, yours still untouched. He grabs the pack of cigarettes lying to the side, picking a single stick and grabbing the lighter before leaning back onto the couch, lighting the cigarette before shifting to face you. He drapes an arm across the back of the sofa, blowing out a cloud of smoke before speaking, “I get to ask you questions as well. Like a trade-off, for each question you ask, I also get to ask one.”

And it’s not as bad as you’d thought, really. Knowing Eddie, you had expected him to propose a game involving stripping or drinking of some sort, and you had prepared to immediately shut him down— but this, you can settle for this.

So, you shrug, “Okay. We can do that.”

Eddie hums in delight, taking another drag of the burning stick and nodding for you to begin.

“Okay,” you sigh, shifting to get more comfortable. In the distance, you can hear the chaos of backstage rituals happening, and you fight through the noise to focus. “We’ll start light. What made you choose music?”

Eddie twiddles the cigarette between his fingers, silently thinking, “I don’t know. I grew up with music, never went a day without it, so, in a way, I guess you could say music chose me.” He responds.

You nod, “What are some of your first memories with music?”

Eddie smiles and gazes up at the ceiling, and you watch as he seems to wander down a road of memories. “When I was younger,” he begins, “before my mom died, I remember waking up and going to the kitchen to watch her cook breakfast,” he pauses as if trying to see through the fog of time to explain it clearly.

“And she had this small green radio that sat on the window sill, and she would play all of her tapes; The Mamas and Papas, Jefferson Airplane, Sam and Dave— you know… hippie shit.” He says. “I knew Surrealistic Pillow like the back of my hand by the time I could talk, I swear.” He jokes, smiling when you softly laugh. He looks at you, a glint flashing in his eyes, and you can tell the memory brings him a joy he misses.

And you find yourself thinking back to a few days ago, when you were walking beside Wayne with Richie and Eddie a few paces back. You remember what Wayne had told you then; you remember the tone in his voice and the careful thought he’d used behind each sentence.

“Give him time,” Wayne softly says. You glance over your shoulder and catch a glimpse of Eddie and Richie sharing a cigarette. You turn back to Wayne when he adds, “You’re a nice girl, and Eddie… Eddie doesn’t know what to do with nice.”

You dig your teeth into the inside of your cheek, chest tightening at the pained gaze in his eyes when he speaks, “He hasn’t had much of that in his life.”

“I know you don’t owe it to him, but just give him some time… he’ll come around.”

Eddie glances at your empty page before gazing back into your eyes, “You gonna write something down? I’m not repeating any of this, just so you know.”

You nod, snapping out of your daze to begin writing. Eddie patiently waits as you jot down your thoughts and conversation, burning through his cigarette and watching your every move.

You look back at him when you finish, and fight the urge to shy away when you realize he hasn’t looked away from you this entire time. “Um, okay, tell me about—” “I believe I get to ask two questions now.” Eddie cuts in with a smirk.

“Oh,” you pause, “Yeah, okay. Go ahead.”

Eddie ashes his cigarette and grabs his drink again, “When did you start writing?”

And Eddie keeps surprising you. For some reason, you thought Eddie would ask something dumb, inappropriate, or condescending— nothing of this matter. You didn’t think Eddie was interested in actually learning something about you.

You sigh as you think, “Well, the first time I ever wrote for myself was around middle school; I had a diary.” You respond, and Eddie’s eyebrows raise in interest, “It was lilac with a gold lock on the pages, and I carried the key around on my necklace because I was so afraid someone would get ahold of it.” You shake your head as Eddie laughs.

“Now, what in god’s name was little middle school Birdie writing about in her secret diary?” Eddie pries.

You scoff, “Like I’d ever tell you that.” You roll your eyes, and Eddie makes a sound of protest, “Come on, it can’t be that bad.” He pokes. You raise an eyebrow and glance at Eddie, “You’d be surprised by what goes through the mind of a twelve-year-old girl on the precipice of puberty. I’m taking those pages to the grave.”

Eddie laughs loudly at that, head tossing back with the action. You find it beautiful, the way his neck stretches and his skin molds against his bones— kissable and enticing.

“Okay, well, aside from your secretive diary. What made you choose this,” Eddie nods towards the journal in your lap.

You hum and purse your lips in thought, “I’ve always loved writing. I loved reading too, still do, and I tried writing fiction, but there’s something about writing people’s stories that just… feels good.” You respond.

“I know how easy it is to become misunderstood in this industry, so I want to hear the truth and help the audience see things from a clearer perspective. I want to help create an understanding if that makes sense.”

Eddie nods, eyes soft and smiling within his gaze. “That’s neat.” He comments, and you smile.

He sips his drink before speaking, “So, how did you end up writing for Rolling Stone Magazine?”

You laugh, “A shit ton of groveling, I’ll tell you that.”

You reach forward and pick up your drink for the first time, taking a sip before speaking, “I’d been trying to get an interview for the longest time, and then I finally just gave up for a while, but then my friend saw an opening a few months later and sent in one of my writings and… I guess they liked it enough to hire me,” You shrug.

“But,” you hold up a finger, “I spent a good year just running errands and shit for the managers; it was awful,” you admit. “So, how’d you end up with the big guys?” Eddie asks.

“Well, I wrote a hell of a paper and blew their fuckin’ minds.” You jokingly say, smirking over the rim of your glass as you take a sip. Eddie softly laughs and takes a sip of his drink as you place yours back down on the table in exchange for picking up your pen.

“My turn,” You remind him.

He nods, and you glance at your journal, thinking about what you want to ask next. “I know in the past you’ve mentioned that you don’t particularly release songs about your life, but you rather opt to tell stories within your music,” you mention, and Eddie nods in confirmation.

“What’s the reasoning behind that?”

It’s a slightly more in-depth question, and Eddie has to take a few moments of silent pondering before he answers. “Well, for starters, I’ve always considered myself more of a storyteller. I like to create different scenarios and characters and find ways to bring them to life,” He begins.

You quietly jot down notes as you listen to him speak, “When I was in high school, I got really into Dungeons and Dragons, and I still love the game, but I guess you could say it stems from that— the storytelling aspect, I mean.”

“But as for why I don’t release more personal songs… I don’t know; I guess I just like to keep a part of my life private to some degree. However, that doesn’t mean these made-up characters and scenarios I sing about aren’t in some way correlated to me,” He hints, and you nod in understanding.

“That’s neat.” You copy his words from earlier, and you both smile.

You and Eddie go back and forth with questions for a bit, touching base with topics like childhood, friendships, current projects, and such. It’s nice to have a decent conversation with Eddie, and for a moment you forget that you’re even doing your job because interviewing Eddie feels like any normal conversation you’d have— lighthearted, smooth, and innocent. Until—

“Alright, my turn. This one’s good,” Eddie starts.

You’re both two glasses in, and your cheeks feel warm from the drinks as you gesture for Eddie to go on. Eddie gazes at you and studies you briefly before speaking, “What’s going on with you and James?”

You blink in confusion, “James?” You question. Eddie nods, “Yeah, James. The photographer.” Eddie explains.

Your face twists in slight confusion as Eddie sips his drink, “What about him?” You ask.

Eddie laughs, “What’s up with you two? Are you guys together or something?”

And there it is. The game that Eddie’s been playing all along, revealed in all its true nature.

Your eyebrows furrow in defense, annoyed with the sudden shift in demeanor, “Is that any of your business?” You question, and Eddie laughs, tapping his ring against the glass of his drink with a soft clink, “Sweetheart, it’s my business if I’m cutting the check.” He snickers.

You narrow your gaze at him, clearly irritated with his words. You don’t know why you ever gave him the chance. Eddie has only ever shown you his true colors, and he’s, more than once, told you that he doesn’t take you or your profession seriously. This has reminded you so.

“You don’t pay me,” you snap, “And I doubt you’ve even touched a check in the last three years.”

Eddie smirks, amused by your sudden frustration, “Maybe you have a point,” he relents, “But you still haven’t answered my question.” He points out.

You roll your eyes, “Why do you care, Eddie?”

Eddie shrugs, “I’m curious.” He smugly answers.

“I don’t ask you who you’re fucking, do I?” A lousy attempt at dodging the question.

Eddie shrugs again, “You could if you want to, I don’t mind. I bet you’ve been curious to know anyway, haven’t you?” He replies.

You don’t like the way that makes your insides squirm with heat.

And you could tell him the truth. You could tell him the simple and honest answer that, no, nothing is going on between you and James. But as you look at Eddie sitting across the couch, you can’t find a single reason why Eddie should even care or why he should have the satisfaction of an answer. “Ask something else.” You say.

Eddie doesn’t waste a second to spit out his next question, “Did you like the kiss?”

“A different question.” “Those are my questions, princess.”

God, you don’t even know why you’re putting up with this. You could easily just get up and leave, but you hate to give Eddie any room for thinking he’s won whatever stupid battle this is.

You shut your journal, refusing to stay another minute, going back and forth with Eddie. You stand and grab your bag, shoving your journal in before looking at Eddie and finally answering his original question, “No, nothing is going on between me and James.” You admit. And you think Eddie will leave it at that, but you're sadly mistaken.

“And the kiss?” He asks.

“What about it?” Your composure is beginning to falter and your frustration is seeping into your tone. Eddie’s eyes glint with mischief, gaze never leaving your fidgety frame as he speaks, “Did you like it?”

“No.”

A lie. A terrible one that Eddie can see right through.

You begin making your way to the door, but Eddie catches you before you can even lay a finger on the handle, turning you around to face him when he speaks, “You’re a shit liar.” He points out.

And he’s so close you can barely think straight with his overwhelming presence. You find your footing through the haze, gazing into Eddie’s eyes when you speak, “Did you ask me to come in here so you can answer my questions, or did you just want to waste my time?”

Eddie is silent for a long moment, eyes dancing between your wide and sharp gaze, darting down to your lips, the tip of his pink tongue darting out to lightly lick across his bottom lip. You can smell the smoke on his breath, reaching out to mix with your liquor-coated exhales.

“Did you like the kiss?”

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Eddie has you cornered now, pressed against a wall so tight you have no choice but to admit defeat, moving forward to press your lips against his liquor-slicked lips.

It’s hasty. Messy, greedy, drunk, and needy, and it rids your mind of all rational thought as Eddie presses himself against you.

Eddie kisses you like it’s the last chance he’ll ever get, pressing into you so close you’d think he’s trying to jump into your skin. And the taste of Eddie is addicting.

You crave for more, and you’re hesitant to push, but Eddie understands the second he feels your tongue lick against your lips. He takes it upon himself to push his tongue into the warm, wet cavern of your mouth, and you happily let him. All clear thinking has gone out the window at this point, and you let your bag slink off your shoulder to plot onto the floor, busying yourself with sinking your fingers into the curly strands of his hair and gently tugging at the root. Eddie moans against your lips, and you pant, your brain going dizzy at the heavenly sound.

Eddie’s hands are eager and hungry as they rest against your hips, sneaking up your torso to squeeze and grab at your skin. And he hates the fact that there are so many layers of clothes between you, and he wants them gone.

His hand travels down the side of your body and digs into the thick of your thigh, dipping lower to catch the back of your knee and hitch your leg around his waist. You keen, pitching your hips forward into Eddie’s, and he moans, greedily squeezing your skin and gliding up your leg. Cool rings send shivers up your spine when he slips under the hem of your denim skirt and kneads the fat of your ass.

If breathing weren’t a necessity, you would kiss Eddie forever, but your lungs burn with the lack of air, so you find yourself pulling away with a wet gasp, “I—“ Eddie presses a kiss to your lips, cutting you off before you can speak and you whine, fingers moving to dig into the soft material of his open shirt, “Eddie, I can’t… I can’t breathe, I gotta breathe,” You pant.

Eddie laughs, and you smile as he trails his kisses down to your neck, licking against the base of your throat before sinking his teeth into the skin. You moan, whiney and loud in Eddie’s ear and he hums in appreciation, grumbling into the skin of your neck as he speaks, “I wanna fuck you.”

His teeth scrape against your pulse, and you gasp, head dropping back against the wall with a soft thud as your nails dig into the skin of Eddie’s shoulder. “What?” You hazily blink.

Eddie moves back to see you, lust-ridden eyes darting all over your face. And he looks so pretty, hair messy, shirt skewed against his lean frame, lips swollen and pink from kissing, and you want him. You want him to a dangerous degree.

He kisses you, muttering his words against your lips as he squeezes your hips and pulls you closer, “I wanna fuck you.” Eddie repeats.

You pant, opening your mouth against his and preparing to speak, but you’re interrupted by the door opening, the two of you jumping at the sudden intrusion, your hand swiftly shoving at Eddie’s body to push him away.

And you think you might die because who better to walk in on you and Eddie practically devouring one another than fucking Jeff.

“Oh, shit, uh,” Jeff looks the other way as soon as he sees you and Eddie. You hastily pick up your bag and tug your skirt back down to a modest length from where it had ridden up to your hips.

You and Eddie are still breathing heavily from your extremities, and Eddie— fucking Eddie; he snickers when Jeff glances back at him and makes a lazy attempt at holding back a laugh. Your face and neck heat up in embarrassment as you shift in your spot, wanting nothing more than the floor to open up and swallow you whole.

“The car is here, man, let’s go,” Jeff snickers before leaving.

And truthfully, you don’t currently have the confidence to look Eddie in the eye and register what’s just happened between you two. So, you grip the strap of your bag and flee before Eddie can say or do anything.

You’re not sure how that happened, and you’re not sure why it makes your stomach twist in a way that makes you blush, but you like it.

And you can’t believe yourself.

You can’t believe that you spent the entire drive to the hotel thinking about how Eddie’s hands felt on your body, his lips against the skin of your neck, or how you could feel him pressed against your thigh, begging to be touched.

When you shower, you try to ignore the throbbing ache between your legs when you think of those words Eddie whispered to you. You try to ignore it as you get ready for bed and ignore the toe-curling sensation of the cool hotel sheets brushing against your hardened nipples when you slip into bed. You try so hard; you really do.

But you can’t help it when you begin imagining how Eddie’s hands would feel across your chest, the light and rough feeling of his calloused fingers ghosting over your nipples to watch as you writhe beneath him.

Fuck, you really try to ignore it.

But you can’t. It’s annoying, the way Eddie clouds your mind. And you feel like a bitch in heat when the only thing running through your mind and body is the burning desire to cum. And if you stuff your hands between your thighs and bring yourself to cum to the idea of Eddie and the feeling of him pressed against you with your name on his tongue, who’s to judge you but yourself?

Because despite everything your mind is telling you, you can’t help but find yourself wanting Eddie.

But all of that flies out the window the following day.

You’d decided to order breakfast to your room, and the hotel sends the daily newspaper with each meal, and you like to read it while sipping on a hot cup of coffee on your terrace. However, when you see the newsletter cover, you’re not sure you have much of an appetite for coffee.

A picture of Eddie from last night with a familiar red-headed girl wrapped around his arm and a caption that makes your stomach twist in knots. The caption, ‘Corroded Coffin lead singer, Eddie Munson, new girlfriend debut!” in bold and italicized letters.

And you don’t know why, but your stomach sinks. You should’ve known better.

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part six

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a/n: HIII YOU MADE IT TO THE END!! i know i said there would be drama drama in this part BUT it started getting too long for my liking, SOOO THE REAL DRAMA WILL COMMENCE IN PART 6 HEHE. THANK YOU FOR READING, AND AS ALWAYS, I LOVE TO HEAR YOUR THOUGHTS SO PLS LMK IN THE COMMENTS OR REBLOGS HOW YOU FEELLL <3

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cutie lil taglist: @mastermindmiko @whataboutbibi @ryanmxrie @ihatepeanutss @tlclick73 @motherfckerrr @emxxblog @jesssssmaybankk @eddiesguitarskills @bibieddiesgf @chloe-6123 @micheledawn1975 @demxnicprxncess @emma77645 @sidthedollface2 @mvnsonslvt @s-u-t @hereforshmut @mmunson86 @welcometohellsock @lma1986 @birdsinmywalls @animechick555 @sheneedsrocknroll92 @spideydreams00 @lorosette @prestinalove @sirensleepingsoundly

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thenas-heart · 7 months

Text

PRICE OF FAME (PART 4/?)

AHHH HERE WE GO, ENJOY!!!

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18+ — MINORS DNI

pairing: rockstar!eddie x journalist!reader

summary: wayne is in town and eddie thinks he kind of hates you... maybe

contains: enemies to lovers trope, smoking, drug and alcohol use, scary and sticky feelings, king richie being king richie, and eddie thinks you taste sweet <3

word count: 3.8k

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| series masterlist | -masterlist- |

Eddie’s going insane, he thinks.

There’s something wrong with him. Something seriously wrong.

It’s been two days since Eddie slept in your room. Forty-eight hours have passed since you so graciously offered him the peace and solace of your extra hotel bed, and Eddie has yet to stop thinking about you.

The morning after sleeping in your room, Eddie snuck out as quietly as possible to avoid any awkward conversation, even if nothing was particularly awkward about the situation. He didn’t want to have to thank you for letting him stay with you, and he knew that if he’d waited until you woke up, he would have to thank you. So, he escaped first thing in the morning, as any avoidant and coward-like person would do.

He spent all day with fleeting thoughts of you— remembering the sight of you smiling under the light of the TV, the sound of you laughing, the visual of you swallowed beneath fluffy sheets and pillows, pouty lips parted to let out the cutest, most annoying, and fucking nerve-grating snores that gently lulled Eddie to sleep.

He spent time wondering what you were doing, how you looked and sounded in the morning, and being annoyed with himself for depriving himself of the chance to witness that. He wondered if you looked for him when you realized he was no longer in the room— if you were annoyed that he left without saying anything, or if you didn’t care. God, why does he care? It’s not like you two fucked, he just crashed in your room.

That same morning, Eddie had the phantom of your scent all around him. Soft, inviting, and all things alluring, and Eddie wanted to sink his teeth into it and gnaw at it like some fucking teething dog. What the fuck?

There’s something wrong.

However, those weird and unwanted feelings have died down since Eddie hasn’t seen you in the past forty-eight hours. Granted, that’s probably because he’s been subconsciously avoiding you like the plague, which has been relatively easy, considering they’ve been on a short break.

Thankfully, Eddie had a solid reason as to why he fled your room so early that morning— to pick up Wayne from the airport. He took Wayne to a breakfast diner and treated him to a warm meal and coffee to ease the stress of traveling from his bones.

And Wayne has never been to New York, so Eddie took the time to show him around. Eddie’s been to the city many times, and he likes to think he’s somewhat of a pro now that he knows his way around the subway. Eddie swears learning the subway was easier than passing senior year, and that says something.

After breakfast, Eddie took Wayne to the Brooklyn Bridge, where they could see the Statue of Liberty in the distance. From there, they took a cab to Times Square so Wayne could witness the absolute chaos that is New York City. They spent some time in Times Square, watching street performances and snacking on greasy foods, and they had a good time until a few people spotted Eddie.

Wayne always tells Eddie he doesn’t mind fans coming up to them and enjoys watching Eddie interact with his supporters. Still, Eddie gets weary of crowds becoming rowdy around anybody he loves, so he tries to keep the interactions to a minimum when he’s out with company.

And Wayne isn’t much of an expressive person, but Eddie’s been around him long enough to read his microexpressions easily and understand that Wayne seemed to like New York so far.

Eddie hasn’t told Wayne about Gareth, partly because he knows he’ll get a long talk about how violence solves nothing, but more importantly, because Eddie doesn’t want to admit that Wayne was right about Chrissy.

Wayne never trusted Chrissy all that much. Chrissy was friendly, respectful, and all things socially acceptable, but she lacked in the caring department. Wayne didn’t like that Chrissy never supported Eddie’s dreams, never showed up to a single show, or didn’t even bother learning the lyrics to at least one song. She didn’t care to show up for Eddie, but Eddie was always there for her. Always.

Chrissy was greedy with love, and Wayne saw right through her innocent act.

And given that Wayne is quite the expert at seeing people for who they really are, Eddie doesn’t understand why he doesn’t see through your innocent act.

It’s Wayne’s third night in New York when you finally cross paths. You’d been passing by each other in the hotel lobby; Eddie, Wayne, and Richie leaving while you were on your way in— and Eddie was content with ignoring you, but god, you just couldn’t help yourself, could you?

“You must be the infamous Wayne,” You smile as you shake the older man’s hand. Eddie stands between Wayne and Richie as he stuffs his hands in his pockets while Wayne greets you, pursing his lips and rocking on the heels of his feet as you and Wayne share a short introduction— Richie snickers beside him.

“You three look fancy; what’s the occasion?” You wonder aloud. Wayne smiles, and Eddie doesn’t know when Wayne became so kind to strangers, especially annoying strangers. “Eddie here is treating us to dinner,” Wayne explains, reaching over to pat Eddie’s stiff shoulder. Eddie thinks that may be your indication to leave, but he’s sadly mistaken when Richie adds, “Have you eaten yet? Would you like to tag along?”

Eddie thinks the age is getting to Richie’s head because Richie must be out of his fucking mind.

His head snaps to glare at Richie, about to cut in until you speak up, “Oh! I couldn’t; I don’t want to impose.” You shake your head with a kind smile. Good, Eddie thinks. Don’t impose, stay far a-fucking-way.

But Richie— god, Eddie can’t believe Richie, “Ah, the more, the merrier,” he waves you off, “And the rockstar will pay for us. Who turns down a free meal?” Wayne jumps in, causing you to erupt in soft laughter.

Eddie has to end this, obviously.

“The reservation is for three,” Eddie chips in, and finally, the three of you acknowledge his presence, turning to him as he shifts on his feet. “And we don’t have time to wait for you to get ready.” He adds, pursing his lips and shrugging in an ‘oh well’ gesture.

If Eddie weren’t watching you so intently, he wouldn’t have noticed the tiny shift of you caving into yourself, but he does, and he kind of feels bad for a quick second. He doesn’t know why he feels bad because he wasn’t even lying. The reservation was for three, and with New York traffic, they should’ve been on their way roughly fifteen minutes ago.

You open your mouth to respond, probably throw in the flag and let the three men be on their way, but Richie opens his fucking mouth again, “Well, we can wait, and I’m sure you can pull some strings for a third chair, son.”

And Eddie could. He can definitely get a fourth seat because he’s friends with the restaurant owner, but Eddie doesn’t want to. And he sure as hell doesn’t want to pay for your goddamn meal, but, as always, despite Eddie’s wishes, Richie insists you tag along.

He, Wayne, and Richie end up sitting in the lobby waiting for you to get dressed in your room. Wayne and Richie are sitting on opposite sides of the couch, Wayne quietly flipping through a magazine and Richie mindlessly people-watching as Eddie impatiently bounces his leg and pouts in the seat across them. Wayne doesn’t bother looking at Eddie when he says, “You’re gonna leave a dent in the floor, son.”

Eddie glares at Wayne and Richie, “Why did you invite her?” He snaps.

Wayne flips the page of the flimsy book, heavily sighing and shifting in his seat, “This is the girl you mentioned at breakfast, right?”

Richie snickers and raises an eyebrow at Eddie, “You mentioned Birdie at breakfast? That’s interesting.” He jokes, to which Eddie grumbles a short and snippy, “Shut up.”

And yeah, maybe Eddie did mention you to Wayne, but it wasn’t… it wasn’t like that, okay? You just piss Eddie off, and now that he’s not on good terms with Gareth, and Jeff is too busy with his head stuck up his girlfriend's ass, Eddie has nobody to turn to for a good rant, and Wayne— well, Wayne was just there.

“Yes. But did you also hear me mention that I can’t stand her, or did you just stop listening after I said her name?” Eddie grumbles. Wayne smiles behind the magazine, and Eddie can hear it in his voice when he responds, “No, I heard it all… sounded like a load of bullshit.”

Richie laughs, but Eddie ignores it as his face twists in confusion at Wayne’s words, “Excuse me?”

Wayne closes the magazine and looks at Eddie, “Boy, did fame take away what little common sense you had? You don’t hate the girl.”

Before Eddie can respond to Wayne’s encrypted comment, you appear, pulling their attention, “Thank you for waiting; I hope I wasn’t too long,” you huff while hastily adjusting the strap of your bag over your shoulder.

For a moment, Eddie doesn’t remember what he was groveling about or that he kind of hates you.

And you’ve always been pretty. Eddie never thought you were ugly, and quite honestly, if you’d met under different circumstances and you weren’t a pain in the ass, Eddie might’ve fucked you. But Eddie’s hatred for you outshined your beauty… most of the time. However, that film of dusty and grey disdain has been clearing recently, and Eddie’s not sure if he should turn away or keep looking because you’re breathtaking.

He doesn’t know what it is. Maybe it’s the dress you’ve chosen and how perfectly crafted it is for you, how the colors compliment your skin in an achingly perfect way. Maybe it’s the way your eyeliner is slightly smudged and smoky from your rushed movements to avoid being late for the reservation. Or maybe Eddie’s just lost his mind right along with Wayne and Richie. For now, he’ll stick with the latter.

Eddie stands up with a loud huff, “Let's go. Before they give someone else our table.” He grumbles, brushing past you and walking off without another word.

Eddie misses the slight and amused smirk on Wayne’s lips.

Wayne, you come to learn, is funny.

You’d thought the ride to the restaurant would be awkward, given that Eddie clearly doesn’t want you here, but Wayne and Richie left no room for the tension to rise. They both told stories and jokes the entire drive, and by the time you arrived at the restaurant, your stomach was sore from laughter. Honestly, you’re not sure how Wayne raised Eddie only for Eddie to end up like… Eddie. Wayne is kind and inviting and all things opposite of Eddie. You almost believe they’re tricking you.

“Since when did you become a stand-up comedian, Wayne?” Eddie sarcastically asks as he opens the door to the restaurant. Wayne had just made a joke about how Eddie was a troublemaker in high school, which Eddie clearly didn’t think was funny, given the scowl on his face.

“I’ve always been a comedian, son.” Wayne pats Eddie on the back as he steps into the fancy establishment. You glance at Eddie and thank him for holding the door as you follow behind Wayne, Richie stepping in behind you.

Eddie was able to get a change of tables, so you were able to join, and you thanked him on your way to the table as the waiter walked you all to your new designated seats. Eddie either didn’t hear you, or he didn’t care to respond; either way, you don’t take it to heart.

Once you reach your table, Wayne and Richie take the seats on the other side of the table, leaving you no other option but to take the seat next to Eddie. Eddie scoffs upon this realization, and you subconsciously chew the inside of your cheek as you settle in the chair.

For the most part, dinner goes by smoothly. You suppose Eddie’s distasteful attitude diffused once the food satiated his hunger— and you think Eddie has the character of a toddler that’s missed their nap time, and a part of you thinks it’s cute, watching him huff and fuss until he’s happily eating. You try your best to focus on the plate of food in front of you and the conversations between the four of you, but you often find yourself glancing over at Eddie.

Because the way Eddie moves is like a movie.

Animated and smooth and all things annoyingly beautiful. The way he speaks with his hands, the way his hair brushes and sways back and forth over his shoulders when he shifts, the sound his rings make when clinking against the silverware. The way his cheeks carve lines when his lips stretch in a smile-soaked laugh, and his eyes widen when he gets excited while telling a story.

It’s captivating.

And a few days ago, you’d thought the wine was the cause for your unwanted attraction, but alas.

You blink away the haze of your short-lived trance and resume eating. Better to leave that road untouched.

Despite Eddie’s low expectations, dinner was good.

He had a nice plate full of food he couldn’t be bothered to learn how to pronounce and a glass of whiskey to wash it down. Wayne and Richie held a good conversation, though those two have always gotten along well since Richie entered Eddie’s life. Richie and Eddie tell Wayne all about life on the road, updating him on the craziest shows and sights, and Wayne informs Eddie about everybody back home.

The kids are soaking up their last weeks of freedom before college, and Max even got a nose piercing, “Somehow, that made her even more of a firecracker, that kid.” Wayne joked.

Wayne says he doesn’t know much about the older half of them, but he runs into one of them every now and then at the grocery store and such, and Eddie makes a mental note to call and check in before the holidays.

And then there’s you.

Eddie wanted to believe you were ruining the vibe of dinner, but you annoyingly made it… better.

You eased into the atmosphere as if you weren’t a complete stranger, asking questions about Hawkins and adding stories of your childhood in Michigan. Eddie had expected you to shy away for most of the dinner since they were mostly discussing things you weren’t there for, but you were as involved as the three of them, if not more.

And Wayne and Richie adore you.

Richie has always made it known that he has no problem with you, and some might even think the two of you have a relationship akin to a father and daughter. But Richie has always been that way. He’s always quick to accept people into their circle and give them a chance.

But Eddie didn’t expect Wayne to warm up to you as quickly as he did.

Wayne is usually wary of strangers, and just like Eddie, Wayne hates the media. Wayne witnessed the hell Eddie initially went through with the press— messy rumors and misconstrued words— and when Eddie almost threw in the towel for good, Wayne was there to wrap it back around Eddie’s knuckles and shove him back into the game. So, you can imagine the confusion reeling through Eddie’s mind when Wayne immediately becomes fond of you.

It’s annoying and stupid, and Eddie thinks you might be a witch because you have everybody under this weird spell that makes them like you.

After dinner, everyone decided to enjoy the nice weather on a walk back to the hotel. Even though Eddie would’ve much rather liked to call a car and make it back to the hotel in less than ten minutes, he can admit that it feels nice to just walk around in light conversation. He doesn’t get much of this anymore. Most days, Eddie is busy doing shows, writing songs, talking to the press, and rolling through each day, so he doesn’t have the time to have simple and lighthearted moments like these.

He’s walking beside Richie, blowing through a cigarette and listening to Richie ramble on about… well, Eddie’s not sure what Richie is talking about because he’s so focused on you.

A few paces ahead of Richie and Eddie, you and Wayne walk together, wrapped up in an intriguing conversation, considering how intently you seem to be listening. You’re watching where you’re stepping, but you routinely turn to Wayne and nod to let him know you’re listening, and every now and then, you even glance back at Eddie and Richie with a soft smile.

And you’re so fucking cute for that.

Eddie thinks he might admire you for that— for being so kind and attentive to Wayne. And you’re like that with everyone: kind and perceptive in a way that makes people feel like they matter, like every word they speak matters. But this… this is different, Eddie thinks.

He’s unsure what it is, but seeing how you interact with Wayne makes his chest warm— like he’s drinking tea on a cold autumn day. Like he’s spent the day shivering in a cold building only to step out into a sunny sky and thaw the cold from his ribs.

It’s endearing, watching you.

Chrissy was never close with Wayne in any way, shape, or form. And although Eddie would’ve loved to see Chrissy interact and get along with Wayne, it just never happened. Not because Wayne was adamant about hating Chrissy or because Chrissy hated Wayne but because they just… never clicked. (And yeah, maybe Wayne disliking Chrissy had something to do with that, but that’s neither here nor there.)

And Wayne is a big part of Eddie’s life. He’s the main reason why Eddie is where he is today and not following in his deadbeat father's footsteps.

Wayne is Eddie’s family.

And the fact that you can acknowledge that and treat their relationship with such respect and care— it makes Eddie feel things that he’s not very keen on feeling.

But the moment of admiration for you is quickly shattered when he catches a snippet of your and Wayne’s conversation.

“You’re a good journalist, I take it. Will I be getting interviewed for this article, too?” Wayne jokes, and you laugh, “If you’d like to, I'm sure I can make the time before you leave.” You respond.

And Eddie doesn’t like that. He hates that actually.

It’s nearly one in the morning when Eddie knocks on your door. They returned from dinner hours ago and called it a night, but Eddie is standing at your hotel room door, knocking at one in the morning. It’s a heavy and loud knock, enough to wake you out of the deep slumber you’d been in, given the way you grimace when you open the door.

You rub your eyes, blinking a few times before settling into a visible state of confusion once you realize the person in front of you is Eddie. You clear the sleep from your throat before sleepily blinking at Eddie and asking if everything is okay.

Eddie doesn’t waste time cutting to the chase, “Are you trying to get my uncle in your piece?”

And yeah, maybe the question could have waited until tomorrow, and maybe the question is dumb and not all that serious considering it was clearly a joke, but Eddie smoked a blunt and couldn’t stop thinking about you— and looking at you now, god, Eddie believes if he hadn’t smoked too much to teeter on the edge of paranoid, he’d kiss you. You’re so cute; painted toes digging into the plush carpet (he thinks he should ask if you’ve iced your ankle tonight), oversized shirt hanging over your body like a blanket, messy imprinted lines of sheets on your cheek from your slumber, and a cute little frown gracing your lips. Eddie’s chest tightens.

“…Huh?”

Eddie almost forgot you were stupid.

“Wayne. Are you interviewing him for the article?” Eddie repeats.

You blink a few times, glancing around the empty hallway and shaking your head, “Eddie, this— this couldn’t have waited?” Your voice teeters on the edge of whiney as you speak.

Eddie raises an eyebrow, and you huff, rubbing your eyes again before shrugging, “No, I— I don’t think so. I mean… he’s the one who offered to talk. I’m down to do it if he’d like—” “That’s not happening.”

Your eyebrows pinch together in confusion, “Excuse me?”

Eddie shakes his head, “Leave Wayne out of your stupid piece, okay? I don’t want you interviewing him, asking him stupid questions, and twisting his words. He doesn’t need any of that shit.”

And you blink up at him like you’re having trouble processing what he’s saying, and Eddie really wants to fucking kiss you.

Too much weed, he thinks. He should’ve never smoked that much after such a long T-break.

“Um,” you hum, taking a moment to register Eddie’s words before speaking, “Okay… I didn’t realize I had overstepped. I won’t interview Wayne.” You respond. Kind, polite, sweet, and all things that make Eddie’s brain waves spike.

You yawn into the back of your hand, “Can I— can I go back to sleep now?”

And you’re standing there, blinking up at Eddie with these soft and pretty eyes, and Eddie thinks… Eddie thinks, fuck it.

Now, Eddie hadn’t exactly planned to come here and kiss you. Or maybe he had; he’s not exactly sure at this point, but he can’t find it in himself to care because kissing you feels better than any drug Eddie could ever get his hands on.

Your lips are soft and sweet and taste like the lip balm you’d applied before bed. And here, this close to you, Eddie can smell the shampoo in your hair, the clean, scented body wash you use, and the fresh linen lingering scent of the hotel sheets, and it’s intoxicating.

You’re shocked at first; Eddie can tell from how still your lips are, but when you realize that Eddie is kissing you, god, Eddie nearly melts.

You kiss like nobody Eddie has ever kissed before. Like you’ve spent years perfecting every single move, calculated and precise and all things electrifying. And if this is how you kiss when you’re grumpy and sleepy, Eddie can’t imagine how you kiss regularly.

But he shouldn’t be imagining that, and he shouldn’t be kissing you, and he shouldn’t even be here, for fucks sake!

It takes nearly everything in Eddie's body and soul to pull away from you, and it pains him when he loses the feeling of your lips against his, but Jesus Christ, Eddie doesn’t know what came over him.

You look at him in shock, almost like you’ve seen a ghost, and Eddie doesn’t know what to do or say.

All he can do is turn around and go back to his room without another word, leaving you speechless and confused, with only the echo of his door slamming to aid both of your whirling thoughts.

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part five

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a/n: GASSSPPP A KISS ?? LMAOO NEXT PART WILL BE A BIT MORE DRAMA FILLED SO LOCK IN BESTIES! AS ALWAYS, I LOVE ALL AND ANY FEEDBACK SO PLS LMK HOW U FEEL <3

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